DXMachina (dxmachina) wrote,

  • Mood:

Dream a Little Dream of Me

I don't often remember my dreams, and even when I do they tend to get purged from my brain RAM pretty quickly after I wake up, so any that stick around tend to be especially memorable. Case in point, last night I dreamt I was sitting in a small lecture hall or meeting room of some sort. There were other people there, Veejane maybe, Suela maybe, and some of the other folks I saw at the wedding. I'm not sure what we were all doing there, other than sitting around chatting. I have no idea what we were talking about. (My dreams are rarely verbal. What speech there is tends to be more like Charlie Brown's teacher.) I don't think we were waiting for a class. It felt more like a hospitality suite thing, or the good feeling from the wedding reception. (The details are kind of sketchy. It was just innocuous stuff, easy to purge from RAM.)

Then the door opened, and two rough looking men entered the room. One of them turned and pointed a pistol at me. At that point I had a flash of insight that it was a dream, and I decided to wake up to escape getting shot. And I did. Sort of. I distinctly remember opening my eyes and looking at the ceiling of my darkened room, but then I closed my eyes, and I was right back where I started from, with the thug still aiming the gun at me. I opened my eyes again, but an irrational fear of the dark came over me, and again I closed them and drifted back to the dream. The dream was less distinct, though, and since I knew I was dreaming, I began to analyze what the hell was going on while drifting halfway between the dream and wakefulness. I'm not sure the analysis was all that coherent, but focusing on it seemed to bring me awake enough to dissipate the dream. Rolled over, went back to sleep, no problem.

The thing I remember about that sleepy analysis was that I couldn't understand the randomness of being in a situation where I was perfectly content, and then have it turn violent that way. My violent dreams tend to be more about invasions, with me standing alone with a non-working gun against hordes of Russians/Japanese/alien monsters. Street crime rarely shows up. (There is one time it did that I remember vividly, because in that dream a vagrant blew me away with a shotgun while I was in the drive-thru lane at a fast food restaurant. That was scary.)

Then, in the light of day this morning, I remembered that on my way to the airport Sunday, while I was refilling the rental car at a gas station, I was accosted by a man who told me he had just been released from Folsom, and how he wasn't going to rob or kill me, but could he tell me a story. I let him talk while I was filling the car. I have to admit I was nervous about it, and had it not been broad daylight with another person filling his car next to me, I might have just gotten back into the car and left. As it was, I let him rattle on, even though I couldn't really make out what he was saying. I finished filling the tank, and said I was sorry that I couldn't help. He just walked over to the next pump and started talking to another customer. I immediately got in the car, then remembered I'd left the receipt dangling from the pump, so I had to get out again to retrieve it. Very cool move, there. He did get to me a little. (Veejane will say this is my just desert for being cavalier about personal safety and situational awareness in seemingly empty garage access tunnels.)

I don't know if that was the source of the dream, but the circumstances are certainly similar. Tricky things these dreams.

Oh, and before I forget...


1. Copy and paste this: [font color="username"][b]username[/b][/font] into your journal.
2. Replace square brackets with html brackets

  • Readercon

    Friday was the first (and only, so far) truly nice day of weather we've had this month*. Saturday was warmer and more humid, and today is meet the…

  • The Heyday of the IJN

    The Midway Campaign — Jack Greene If a book can be awkward, this book about the first six months of the war in the Pacific is awkward. Start…

  • 2012 in Books

    Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read. — Groucho Marx Yes, I am behind my time, but it's only…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.