DreamsI feel surprisingly... well, manic this morning. So I will inflict my mania upon you all. You know the drill.I'm in the process of rereading Neverwhere. (Neil Gaiman. Read it.) This time, for some reason, since I saw NG live! in concert! a few months back, I keep hearing him read the words along with me. Not all of them. Just the ones dealing with Richard Mayhew. Most notably, "Ah." Peculiar. Dreams. (Yes, the subject of the email has something to do with the actual email itself. Will wonders never cease.) I know that dreams partake in some way of what is happenning around you much of the time. I know this. But. First dream I remember last night: Goth. No, Goth isn't the right tern. Gothishness, in it's own happy cheerful mellow way, is a nicey-nicey sort of lifestyle. Sure, there's the whole whining and despair and occasional fits of suicide. But it doesn't in any way involve pain for others. Except the whole sneering at those who aren't depressed thing, but that doesn't really count. So. It wasn't a goth dream in any way. Why I keep calling it a goth dream to myself, I don't know. I just do. Sue me. It involved. Oh. Let's see. An evil... store of some kind. Possibly a 7-11, but if so, one made out of old wood somewhere, with a very grainy counter. In which the graininess started to turn into words. It was this gradual buildup of communication thing. Evil book as well. Switch page to page and the text would change. So it was a nightmare, but not in any way I can describe. Mostly cause I don't remember more than occasional flashes. Still. Woke up. Immediately knew where I was and what had happened. Went back to sleep. Second dream I remember last night: Starcraft. Starcraft doesn't really describe it in any way, since it involved me wandering around a mall(?) underwater and trying to become a prince. Switching suits with those who attacked me now and again. Sharks. A side note on sharks: Sharks. Whenever my dreams involve water, they involve sharks. Big suckers. Fear sharks. Don't know why. No reason for it. It just is. I will never watch Jaws. So. Yes. Swimming. And then suddenly I passed the level. And went on to the next level where I wandered down a corridor catching the people going by and solving their problems (whereupon they vanished). Very princely. The Imperials were invvoled in some sort of surreal way. And I knew I could solve the problems, because this was only level 2, and so the problems couldn't be harder than level 1. There were just a lot of them. And then I switched to Starcraft mode, and got a report that there was trouble back at the base, and a piece of my base lit up. So I sent a squadron back to the base to check it out. But apparently the base had been taken over while I was gone, so they were wiped out. And I woke up. Deranged dreams. And I haven't even played much Starcraft recently. I feel good anyway. I will continue to feel good. Except I need to visit the restroom. Not that you needed to hear that, I'm just spontaneously in full disclosure mode. And in Action hero mode. You know, if The Pole is being closed off from me, that's my One True Love they're messing with. I may have to start stalking The Pole. And if that doesn't work, I'll have to assume it's been kidnapped. I may have to reach back into my old Special Forces training and hunt them down and destroy them and get The Pole back. (Not that I have Special Forces training. But if they kidnap my loved one, I will spontaneously develop always having had Special Forces trainng.) It must be the Brazilian music. Or the Catholicism, though I don't know what that could possibly have to do with anything, since the only reason it came up in conversation is that I reached into the grab bag part of my head for a noun, and that's what came up. A very useful place. Fireworks are stored up there. And mindworks, as well. That's how I sometimes get to sleep. Instead of reaching for one thing, I simply step entirely into the grab bag in my head, and things happen, and I watch, and fall asleep. Pleasant. Vaguely random generator-like. Cat. An animated cat of some kind. Semi artistically drawn. Not sylvester, though. More blobbish and well, oval. And it seems to be metamorphing into a two dollar koala. Why a koala would cost two dollars to be specific I don't ask, I simply accept. I zoom into it's DNA, which seems to be made out of legos. With little screaming lego people climbing it forever eternally. Occasionally one falls off. Into the Abyss. Where it lands on a giant flower. The Flowery Abyss. Better than the Firey Abyss, anyway. There.
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