Thursday, October 28, 2010


The dream starts out with me going with some guy, not Benn, but someone... to a Science World-y type place. Admission gates, arrows on the floor, high ceilings, concessions etc., fill this enormous circular room. The guy and I go and sit in this weird video game type thing, with a bench seat in it behind the control panel. Of course, because it's a dream and it's full of insecurities and frustrations, I don't fit in the damn seat. This is why I think it was some place for kids. Or perhaps I was immensely fat in this dream... Let's not think about it.

My mom arrives and the three of us head to a concession stand. The guy and my mom get hot dogs and try to pressure me into getting one too. I argue with them, saying that they'll make me sick. We all walk through a door and it leads to a mall. While they eat their hot dogs, I wander over to the Gap. Once inside, it's really Sephora. I start browsing around and I see that they have palettes for $20. I think of two ladies who would like them, so I get two, for Christmas. My mom arrives and we head to the till.

Once at the till, the till becomes a bar, and I'm waiting for some incompetent waitress to finish at her table so she can ring me in. Their table is obviously annoyed with her. She walks behind the bar, slips in something and totally gumbys to the floor. It's really pretty impressive. I ask if she's okay, and she assures me it happens a lot. Some other guy arrives near a till and starts to ring me in. He screws it up somehow and has to undo whatever it was that he did. He undercharges me, but then shorts me on change so it works out about right. Then he walks away, leaving me with these two things on the counter and for some reason, a huge thermos has appeared on the counter. I ask him for a bag and he says "oh sure" and walks away. My mom and I start exchanging looks of irritation. After a while, it's clear that he's not coming back. So I ask some other guy for a bag, and he says the same thing, but does nothing. I'm totally pissed now, and wondering why the hell these douchey shmoes are working at Sephora in the first place. They aren't the make up artist type of guys. They're the sport bar type of guys.

Then Marty, some local musician for some band I can't remember at the moment, gets in line and my mom says something about still waiting for a bag. Marty goes behind the counter (apparently he works there but today is his day off) and starts bagging my makeup, and empties out my thermos into a sink. I tell him that's my thermos and he puts it into the bag. He's totally nice and cool and my mom and I are just happy that someone competent has helped us, even more impressively, on his day off.

That's all I remember. It's not a very good dream, but it's the only one I remember.


That's my new word. It means frustration with daily blogging.

You see, the problem is that I haven't been able to remember any dreams for the last few days. I know I'm dreaming, but the faint traces left in the morning have been escaping me. I suppose this is how everyone else experiences dreaming.

Perhaps this is just one of life's ironies. I've always remembered my dreams. Until I wanted to. Bah.

So today, here are the fragments I've remembered from the last few days, in no particular order.

A blue flip flop.
Getting mad at a grey cat.
Losing my debit card. (This also happened in real life)
Watching myself walk downhill on a sidewalk, as if I were walking towards viewing-me.

That last one reminds me. Most of my dreams are viewed from the outside, as though I'm watching myself, with minor flashes of point-of-view. Personally, I blame television for causing my brain to think in scenes.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Legally Obligated Furniture

You know, I'm having a lot of trouble settling on a tense for recording my dreams. So I apologize for any variances in each post or throughout the blog itself. It's kind of an odd thing to be recording.

Okay, so the dream starts in my current apartment, and I'm apparently still living with my old roommate Nick. Which is silly, because it's a one bedroom... Anyways, our other roommate (again, one bedroom) has moved out in protest of our lack of furniture. (Reality note: up until last week, the only living room furniture I had was the worst love seat ever). For some reason, this is very upsetting to us.

Then my mom shows up with a rocking chair (this really happened last week) and the couch from her house (not real but I wish it were). Somehow my dining room gains chairs. Nick and I realize we could go get our roommate back. Out of nowhere, we pull a contract. We set up a meeting with the ex-roommate, and we trick him into meeting us. For some reason, we don't want to tell him what the meeting is really for, and there is a tone of subterfuge.

We meet the roommate, who by the way, is not a person I know in real life as far as I can remember, on a park bench. I carefully broach the subject of him moving back in, implying that he is legally obligated, as he left due to the furniture situation, which has been fixed. I never flat out say that he has to, but I am thinking the whole time that it was very important that he believes me. The roommate is hesitant and I tell him that even if he just signs the contract, Nick and I can get our tax breaks. I explain how comfortable the couch is, and how great it is for sleeping (very true). The roommate doesn't agree and we go home.

Once there, I take pictures of all the furniture with my phone and send them to the roommate. And then I woke up.

Ultimately pointless dream. Just getting rid of some leftover furniture thoughts, of which there have been many of late.

Thursday, October 21, 2010


Ok I just re-read my first posts... There is something seriously wrong with me. I better start posting the boring dreams too. Like two nights ago, I fell asleep on the couch. I had a dream that Benn (the bf) came out, woke me up, and told me to come to bed. I got up and followed him back to the bedroom and went to sleep. Then I woke up. And I was on the couch. And I was confused.

There, that ought to balance out the monsters and murders.


Last night, I had the worst dream.

It started with me going to Chinatown to see an optomotrist. I had opened my new box of contacts and found out I was getting ripped off by my current doctor, so I was in search of a new one. It wasn't actual Vancouver Chinatown, just some house on a dark street. It was bright out because of the moon, but it was deep night.

I was standing outside of the house with an older Asian lady, the new optomotrist. I noticed a guy walking up the sidewalk towards us. He stopped in front of the gate, dropped to his knees, and fell to the ground, dead. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I called 911 and told them what had happened. Once off the phone, the guy started moving, kind of stumbling back to his feet and I knew this was terribly wrong. I knew he shouldn't be getting back up.

Flash to my childhood home. My house was filled with people kind of milling around. Some I knew, some I didn't. I was looking out the living room window, and I can't really remember what I saw that made me panic, but it had to do with neighbours on the street acting very strange. I phoned 911 and started talking to a dispatcher. I told her that they needed to send someone right away because if they didn't come soon, it was going to get worse. All I could tell her was that they "were acting wrong". She said they would as soon as they could.

The tone of the dream then took a really aggressive swing, and everyone in the house was pushing and shoving, and I think something bad was in the house. I ran into a bedroom with a few strangers, and we blocked ourselves in. I'm totally panicking because there are things trying to get in. They somehow open a part of the bedroom door, and a girl from my high school, and some other person half get in, so I shot them. They fell to the ground and I slammed the door shut again. Everyone else in my room, including some guy I went to high school with, stare at me in disbelief. I know what they're thinking. Because we don't really know what's going on, I might be in some serious trouble for shooting them. They could be monsters. Or they could have been panicked people. But I say "It doesn't matter. I'll deal with it after. It needed to be done" because I knew that they had been after us. They weren't just trying to get in, they were trying to get us.

I call 911 again and talk to the same dispatcher. It's now been a few hours since I called the first time. She tells me that they're too busy now, because whatever it is, it's everywhere. I yell at her, telling her that if they'd come the first time I called, none of this would have happened. I look out the bedroom window, and I see that the zombies (somewhere along the

way, it has come to be suspected that they were zombies) have placed guards at the window and across the street. They're not mindless attacking zombies. They are patient and smart. These guards are not trying to get in the room, they are trying to keep us in the room.

Now there is noise at the bedroom door again, and I know for sure that it's zombies, because the people I shot have reanimated. I go and try to reinforce the bedroom door again. A white arm covered in red scrapes and scratches shoots into the room through the door jam, and starts grabbing at me. Then I wake up. IN TERROR. I started drifting back to sleep and it took me back to the room, so I woke myself up and forced myself awake until I was sure I wouldn't go back.

Robot Dad

My dream starts in my childhood bedroom. My older brother is with me, and I'm looking out the window, down the street, into the school yard two blocks away. I'm trying to spy on this man with a moustache and a brown coat, who is in the crowd. You see, there is a shapeshifter loose, and he's coming after us.

My brother keeps popping his head up into the line of sight, and I force his head below the window, because the shapeshifter is trying to spy on us too. I get pissed because when I look back, he's gone, and I can't be sure if he's left the school or if he's changed shape. Now I'm not certain who I'm looking for.

Sudden switch - My dad is sick, and he's lying on my childhood bed, while my mom and I tend to him. I am feeding him by feeding a robot connected to him. When I shove stuff in the slit mouth of the robot, it eats it for him and sends him the food. I am still on high alert for the shapeshifter, and I am worried he may have taken the shape of my dad. My dad asks if he can have three egg yolks. I start grumbling, wondering how I'm supposed to get egg yolks into a robot's slit mouth, but I realize this is how I can tell if it's my dad or not. In reality, the day before, my mom had bought two dozen eggs. So in the dream, I tell my dad that we don't have any eggs. My mom starts to say "Yes we..." and I interrupt her. She says "But we just got..." and I pull her aside and say "SHHHHH!! Real dad would know we have eggs, this is how we can tell if it's the shapeshifter!"

So I turn back to my dad and wait for his reaction to the news that we don't have any eggs. Dad sighs and says "Ok, that's fine" and now I know it's the shapeshifter. I calmly start looking around the room for something hard to use as a weapon, but everything is soft and weighs nothing. I see my laptop, and it's the best I can do, so I pick it up. I turn around slowly, but the shapeshifter knows!! He jumps out of bed and I start running, pushing my mom ahead of me. For some reason, as we come out of my bedroom, we're in the hallway of my grandma's house. I push my mom ahead, and tell her to run down the stairs. I turn around and the shapeshifter is now an eight foot tall angry robot. I get frustrated, because now that he's made of metal, my laptop is just going to break if I try to attack it. Also, the robot is also weilding a laptop. So I keep running, and then I wake up. This dream wasn't very scary. It was actually kind of awesome.

Karaoke Nightmare

I realize now that a lot of my most memorable dreams have to do with death. I suppose the fear is what makes them stick.

I'm at a karaoke contest hosted by Alan Jackson (yes, the country singer). I am sitting in a folding plastic chair in one row of many. There is an aisle space to my left. I'm facing the stage, watching strangers sing. I see my mom and my dad, sitting separately, in rows ahead of me.

Troy Aikman (yes, the quarterback) stands up from the second or third row, and he has a gun. He walks out into the aisle and starts shooting people. He shoots my dad in the head. My mom stands up and Troy shoots her too. I must have yelled, because Troy turns around and faces me and walks straight towards me with his gun pointed at me. Then I woke up.

Death Camp Momma

Right now, let's play catch up. I'll share a few of my most memorable dreams of the past.

I'm in a row of shower stalls and my mom is in the one next to me. We are wrapped in towels, and the room is full of steam, and other faceless people wandering by. I know that we are in a death camp, being poisoned by the showers or at least on our way to be. I step out of the stall and face my mom.

She says "Heather, I have something to tell you."
She stares at me with her head tilted to one side, lifts her hand into her hair, and slowly pulls out a handful of hair. She holds it out towards me and says "I have cancer".

In my dream, I don't react because we are already on our way to our deaths. However, when I wake up, I phone my mom and ask her to tell me that she doesn't have cancer. She laughs in wonder and tells me that it's so odd that I asked that, because she just had a mammogram and can actually tell me for certain, that she does not have cancer.