Dream: Mark Hamish synth dogs

Lost most of the details, but we were at a party, restaurant was Josh Vernon’s, brass and marble. Well lit, open floor mingling, our company had the whole place. It was in a mall, but so was my company, a research firm.

My boss was not there, but his dogs were. They were getting sick, throwing up if they ate. We could not reach him on the phone, and no-one knew where he was.

I went to find him, but his office was torn apart. I found his research that indicated he had engineered them to starve to death. I could not believe he had not euthanized them.

I kept looking, and found him with the board if directors, and I laid into him, telling him he was horrible, etc etc. I knew I’d just resigned, so I left in a rush.

Somehow, between leaving, and getting out, I knew he was dead, andbthey thought I did it. My DNA was all over his office, and I took his jacket, because he was an ass, because it was cold, and because I could not find my jacket.

Ecxept, by the time I cleared out my locker, it was not cold out, and I was now wearing his jacket over mine. Two people asked me why I was wearing Hamish’s jacket, and I made up stories.

I just had to get out. I knew I was going to be investigated for his death now. I was sort of lost, but finally made it to a bar that was opening, and could pass from the “mall”, theough the bar, to the parking lot.

The lines were huge, so I just went for the compact car lot, because it openned first. I could not get to my car from there, but when I walked to the far edge of the lot, my mom, aunt, and sister saw me, and they drove over ti get me in their big SUV. They heard Mark Hamisch had died, and knew I would be upset.


Dreams of Heroes

Ending fragment.  Guy like a cross between The Punisher and Star Lord.  I was his friend.  He was having some struggles, and his car would not start.  I looked at is, spotless under the hood, cavernous even, and all simple.  There was not enough under the hood to go wrong.  It was just a matter of running way too rich, so it would not even start.  Clouds of half-burnt fuel would spurt out of the intake, sputter, lop, die.

He wandered off, comfused and conflicted, while I troubleshot it.  There was a small, compact, spark control computer as part of the distributor.  I figured that had failed, but maybe if we opened up the throttle, it would at least stay running.  There was not a usual air filter, rather a yellow box, with a key on it.  Again, spotless, shiny.  Far too small to filter that much airflow, it must be an EM field generator that actively cleans the air.

I went to find him to get the key, and he’s wandered out back, hood pulled up.  I followed, and he’d gone to track someone down.  Through some alleyways, etc I followed.  The dream is faded as to whether he kicked some ass, or could not find them.  But, I followed him to the back gate, put my gand on his shoulder, and someone else spun around.

She was a shapeshifter.  She had been drawn to our place.  Others came, a green woman, a woman who’s skin looked like a concert hall inside out.  She traveled by playing a violin.   The feeling and nuancel directed her vehicle.  Ther were many others, but I walked past as they mingled, up to the small shop that was my friend’s home.

“It’s an honourable intent lockout,” I said.  He had been conflicted, and had decided to seek revenge.  The car could not support that.

He was frustrated, almost indignant, but he knew it made sense.  He felt hopeless about it.

“I’m your sidekick.  I’m here to help you through this.”  He was my friend, and it would take time.  The others who came would help.  We were not looking for trouble.  We just wan to help when situations arise.


Weird dream

Middle of the dream… family and I were meeting up for dinner. The place was similar to a Cracker Barrel, except it was upscale. Lots of wood, but more open space, different kinds of goods, and I think there was a Casino off the other side.

The waiter was someone we know. He called me by name, and I recognized him. I think he was an uncle. I think he was also Gene Hackman.

The table we were seated at, the four of us, was about 2 feet on a side. Basically, food came out one person at a time, except drinks and desserts. Khai had trouble deciding, and I ended up with the grilled salmon because of some change I wanted or would want, was easier on that.

After, we ended up at a Christmas partly. Lots of people, drinking, etc. And then someone died. Cue murder mystery, and before the police arrived, someone figured out the guy’s wife had poisoned him. There were $6m worth of $125k bearer bonds or similar in the stocking, and she wanted them. Except, in the process of explaining this, whomever figured out what happened lost track of the wife. Police showed up, and the wife had slipped away, with the bonds.

At the end, I was unpacking my own stocking. About 20 things in there, including what looked like a small Champagne bottle, with a plastic nozzle on it. It was Chilled Baby Wash. Also, a bottle with what looked like a thin roll of toilet paper on it. It was liquid toilet paper, or butt wash. Several other things in there, but the last present I opened was a phone call. Not a phone. Not a recording of a call. The call itself.

Anyway. I know there was a bunch more I missed. Lighting was dim, and colors were subdued, leaning towards blues, greys, but not exclusively.


Dream in a castle

I was in a medaeval village, maybe in a computer game, not sure. I had a German Shepherd as a familiar. We were trying to help protect the village from an evil sorcerer. No one could help us, because everyone was busy preparing to defend the castle.

The inside of the castle walls had multiple levels that spiraled down from the ridge to the courtyard, plus below. There were wooden awnings, and so many people. The dog and I were working our way down to the bottom floor. Somewhere along the way, a friend encouraged my dog to climb into her shirt from the top. Strange, but snuggly. Everyone was either preparing weapons, making food, supplies, etc. She was making bedrolls for people.

When we got tho the bottom, the only people available to help were Dolph Lundgren, Jamie Foxx, and several other big name actors who were in a group of 8, kind of a glamor shot going on, one level below the courtyard. Dolph comes up to me like an old bud and exclaims “CRASHY JOSH! What’s up, man?” I couldn’t tell if this had to do with something like cart crashes, or computer crashes.

Apparently, we had a legal agreement that we couldn’t drag people off for other quests/raiding parties. We had to just do whatever was right there. So I was about to join them in whatever it was they were doing, when I woke up.

There was tapping outside, and a utility pipe truck is doing stuff outside. It’s always waking up from weird sounds that make the best dreams.


Orbital Mechanics and Friends

I had a dream that I was on a space station, and our old van was a shuttle. An escape pod failed as we were leaving the station, and my dream went into orbital mechanics ala Kerbal Space Program. On waking, I pondered orbital mechanics, and realized it’s just like people.
Community is like orbital space. Each person is a satellite. Your interests, drives, life and death all define your orbit. Your location is the barycenter of your orbit, the focus of your ellipse.
Along your path, you will pass near other satellites, people. If your orbits are not close, it may be a single encounter. Maybe your orbit lines up repeatedly. Maybe not. Communication tech is better mowadays, and you can talk to someone orbiting Jupiter with a little lag.
But, you only have so much fuel (drive) to change your orbit. And if you aim for someone not on on a very similar path, you almost certainly guarantee that your paths will diverge more widely.
Unless you grab on and become one peice in a new, combined orbit, a risky maneuver. Instead, it’s less disruptive to adjust your orbit on each pass. Move your center when you can, and look for other satellites near you.  
Which satellites seem familiar. Is there a shared mission or purpose. Can you benefit? Are they from a friendly nation, or do you need to be on guard? If they are new and suddenly there, are they a risk for knocking you out of your planned orbit, or dragging you down the gravity well? If you join up, they be too big of a mass or too tightly coupled for you to change your orbit later? Or are they a whole new anchor in space to orbit freely, yet still taking you for a ride?
The best are when you orbit the others who orbit you, or you share closely overlapping orbits. If inclination matches, you meet more often than every orbit.
I have lots of acquaintances in unmatched orbits. *waves*
I have several friends in harmonic matched orbits. Hi Hi Hi Hi Good to see you again.
I have a few people that I try to keep my orbit matched with. I definitely have my own mass and velocity that makes this difficult sometimes, but I appreciate those on similar missions burning their limited fuel to help us stay in sync.


Dream of Pixels

In a lab, there’s a gold mine. But, it’s not a mine exactly. It’s a cylinder with rounded edges, about 18″ in diameter, and in length, flat faces up/down, floating about waist height in a room. There’s a pedestal under it. If you approach, you see down into the pedestal into an apparently infinite space. There is a lensing effect around the object, and there are suspended chunks of gold around it of varying sizes. They can be pushed and moved, but they bounce back to their original location. Sometimes they shift and change size on their own.

It’s all fairly industrial: concrete floors, computer stations around the edges, subdued lighting. I notice some primary color pixellation and difraction around the interface edges of the object as we head to a non-containment room, but just figure that’s normal. Through various brainstorms, the object comes to be thought of as aware. It responds to us, but not in a way we understand. Hands near it, and it changes. Time to head out, because we don’t know if it’s safe to stay around it for very long.

The lab manager is my ex girlfriend, or something like that. It’s complicated. She looks just like Gwyneth Paltrow, only a little taller, or maybe I’m a little shorter. I’m not me, but I feel like me. I was removed from the project lead for no real reason, or maybe every reason. But, she’s letting me in because it’s too amazing to keep to herself, and they need help. No one else is making any progress on these. Yes, there’s a second one in another room.

I’m really excited, but GP stops to remind me that everything has to go through her. This is a trial involvement, and I cannot just do things with it, nor make decisions on it. I’m excited, but the limitations are tough. I apologize, say I understand, and blurt out that my thoughts were that a machine could be used to just reach in and scrape out the gold. She completes the sentence with me, and kisses me.

I like it, but something is wrong. I see bits of colored static, smaller pixels than in the containment room, here now too.

I realize the device is a computer of sorts. It’s simulating the universe immediately around us, and so long as we are near it, we are affected by any errors in the simulation.

She sees it, and I ask about “shutting it down”, but no one knows how to. In fact, there’s no one around us. The elevator is open, lit, but does not do anything. There’s a window with curtains, looking out into… a warehouse? What? No, now it’s sunlight, but there are pixels around the borders.

I’ve been thinking about the device, and realize it can read my mind. I name it “Pixels” in my mind, and call out to it in fear and exasperation. Continued realizations, not sudden, gradual, as if I’ve thought of all of the possibilities, and realize it is alive, and our entire universe is a simulation. The simulator is crashing, and the device is trying really hard to preserve us.

Stray specks are showing up in the room. I imagine that they would hurt going through me, but I don’t seem to ever make contact with one. We try to open the windows, but they’re not real. We’re stuck. Only this one last room exists. We cannot even reach the simulation interface anymore. Yes, that’s what the objects are: an interface for controlling the simulation from inside.

We’re frantic, but there does not seem to be anything we can do. As I wake up, I realize we had all moved into the simulation when the universe was winding down for us. Not us, per se, but our many-great grandparents. The universe had finally wound down enough, and there’s no repairing. This was the end of the end.


Lorry Dream

Looking out the window. The house was my mon’s house, but the garage was Mr. Bridgeforth’s house.

I see a big, blue truck driving up, sideways.  The front two wherls are turned sideways, and the back two are off the ground.  This way, they pull right up into the driveway.

I get to the inside garage door in time to see the loading ramp fully extended.  It bumps into a rectangular folding table, the particle board kind, and then pushes back another inch, compressing/denting.

They deliver whatever it is (cannot see for some reason.)  Then, they backbup at an angle and mash into my Flex’s bumper.

“HEY!  WATCH OUT!”, I say.

The fork lift guy just says, “No Problem.”  It’s heavily accented in local Spanish, and with a big smile.

“Fuck you!  It is a problem!  Este auto es me babe! Me amo lo!”

“Ehhh.  Get a Suburban S.”

Then I woke up.

There was more Spanish but I am not as fluent as my dream self.


Waking up dream

So lame.  Detailed..  Wasting time making some art pieces with a friend, and got paid half of $1500 in food stamps and gift certs. Was behind a bar for a shady group.  Talking to a friend after while waiting for my wife and kids to pick me up on our way out of town.  My friend had a million dollars hidden in a black bear hidden in a tree.  She could not invest it, because the  she would need a white bear.   Other stuff too, but it’s faded.


Dreams

Lots going on but all I remember was being at the Candace house, looking for a safety pin (top shelf in my room, above the windows). I was wearing a blanket as a loak because I was cold. I could not wear plaid because it might pose problems when we travelled back in time. Several thers were rushing me because I am always late. The Doctor was pleasantly distracting about it, but was still more than ready for meto hurry up.


Time travelling through dreams

Had a stretch of dreams:
I went back to IBM. There was a new center manager named stacey. She was very involved. Employee sat and team social activities were important. The whole center operated like one big happy team.

I went back to high school. There was a graduation party. A bunch of people were there, but all I remember are Blake, Hunter, and Megan. Megan morphed into the reason I’d gone back, but the party was fading. There were new photos on facebook to match the changed history. Megan morphed into Meghan James of the band Purity Ring.

I was walking back to my car, parked a few blocks away in this super-mall, and I saw a plane flying. I sent a message back to my parents when I was a kid for me to take flying lessons back then. “It’ll be cheaper, because fuel costs will be going up.”

Then I was at IBM in 1995, the year after graduating, but before going to IBM for real. I knew a bunch of the people because I had my current memories, but they did not know me yet.


Dream: The Eye

In the progression of dreams late in this morning, I found myself answering the call of a lower-middle class family for help.

The lady’s aging father had come under control of an additional eye, on the back of his neck.
It was smaller, and it was important that we didn’t let it see us while we inspected.

I looked, and as fairly certain it didn’t see my face, but it did see the top of my head.

When I turned around, I found myself wrapped in big, meaty arms. I could hear his voice in my ear.

The family was greatful; the father was free. Now, i was not.

If I looked down in my peripheral vision, I could SEE the arms clasped alongside my own.

If I struggled, they were much stronger, and I would see a greyness around me.

If I did not, then I could move mostly as I pleased.

“What is your name?”

He said, “Sergio.”

“Where are you from? How old are you?” I asked.

“New York. I was born in the 1800s.” he said, but I saw “1820” in my mind’s eye.

“What do you want?”

“I just want to be left alone,” he responded.

While we spoke, my team had extracted the eye. It was a machine, with five orange-brown colored arms, each looking like a thin version of a bendable microphone stand. At several points was a shiny sphere, and in the center, a small body housing a camera and other electronics. It was not damaged, but it was not moving. I did not feel any injury, though I noticed the meaty arms were messing. I could still speak to him.

“We can try to help you, and to find you.”

He said, “when you do, call this number.”

He had a phone, and would be waiting.

I realized the machine offered him control while it was installed, but it actually implanted a copy of him into anyone it attached to.

There would be no finding him. He was long gone, the real him. However, there were untold copies of him living, trapped, helpless, in the back of the minds of everyone this machine had latched on to.

I felt sad for him.


Shoulder stabby dream

This morning I wike from a crazy dream. It ended with some guy slashing me with a poisoned dagger, then stabbing my shoulder until it was half way detached. I eoke up, disturbed but not panicked. No pains or odd sensations, though the kids were awake on the computers.


Worst dream ever

Worst dream ever. Khai got caught up in some sort of program and refused to cooperate because he was tired and cranky. Because of this, he was given the choice of life in prison or death. He was still just a kid but he was pissed and chose death.

I had to leave because it was bedtime. I kept trying to call to make him make sure that was really what he wanted, but we could not get through because it was a new utility area with lots of construction. I was hacking a digital power distribution panel to try to get the computer to make the connection for us. There were maybe 8 of up, plus several kids.

Max was beside himself with grief the the rest of us were in shock. It was the first time he hugged me in 2 years. He was 14.

When I got to talk with Khai in person in the morning, he was really scared and did not believe it. He didn’t even remember the situation or making the choice. This is where I woke up. My chest hurts and I don’t want to go back to sleep.

UPDATEHad 2-3 other bad dreams while falling asleep, but decided to reset sleep vs log them then.

  1. 2 was that I was at Josh Ellis’s house, and he was sitting at the bar. He got quiet and pale, and wouldn’t respond. I walked over to check on him and he started to fall. I had to lay him on the ground and perform CPR. I called the police on my cellphone, gave the address on speaker phone, “need an ambulance. Cardiac arrest”. Someone else was in the back (maybe one of his kids?) and I told them to unlock the front door. “I’m going to have to break your ribs” to him, and “his ribs” to Margie, because CPR can do that, and he’s my size. In the dream, he was just about 50, which would also be roughly 2 years in the future. To my real, semi-awake self, that part was spooky, in that both dreams pointed to something in 2015.

I don’t remember dream #3, but it was only a few seconds… Also bad. There was a 4th, but I fell all the way asleep and didn’t really store any of the events of it. All of this was between 1:34 and a little after 2am.

So, this morning, both kids gave me big hugs. Max and I had good chats, and Khai told Erica how much he liked me. Makes me a little teary eyed, and I feel better.

UPDATE2Makes me wonder if I was waking up from some other cause, and the dreams just matched it. (ie, maybe I was having palpitations, or maybe my airway was obstructed.) Because, you know, the wake-up dreams when I have to pee always have something to do with trying to find a bathroom, and being lost, frustrated that I can’t get there…


Dream

up late. woke 4 mins before alarm.

dream was i was an airline pilot flying the joke plane. was under serious pressure to fly it or lose my kob and have FAA and NTSB. go after me.

After some turn-arounds, got under way. Then ATC had me look up some ARINC alerts on my APU. could not find ANY info and stepped thru a portal to go to get help.

Basically, the plane’s logs were half on 8mm film, and half in essay form in steel filing cabinets IN THE PLANE. Also in the logs were shelves of red eyed plush monkeys in 5 sizes, and piles of leftover equipment from when the plane was an air fortress think tank.

Anyway, got help looking, and became a supporter for cleaning up the crap and converting logs into concise, typed info. Justification to airline for the expense was room for more passengers, since the entire 1st class cabin was log and equip storage.


Parallel Dreamalities

I had an awesome dream, where I slipped through to a parallel universe (sometime that’s mi idea of what dreams or daydreames are) and helped a bunch of friends and aquaintances with a world war. I was 19, but had my knowledge from now.

One friend, we became close and really enjoyed eachother. She wrote notes for me to tell her here-self to prove we new eachother so we could be friends here. I had her write it, and it was very scripty, with letters lined up a certain way. It was like elvish. She also gave me a lock of hair, coarse, long, and crinkly.

She reminded me of Stefanie F, but it wasn’t her. In that world, they knew of eachother. I cannot remember her name or where she lived.

The school we talked at, we were visiting because of a war room coordination on the weekend or evening. Schools were extra important with the war on, and they got better technology and were more fortified.

Somehow, not everyone knew there was a war, but many did.

There was also a gathering in the backyard of what was my mom’s house in this universe. Lots of tables. Lobster was there, a friend IRL from ages past.

Anyway, we didn’t get to hug goodbye. We exchanged the info in the notepad, and I told her to look up the version of me from there. I was going to call her when I got back and convince her we’d met parallel and that we should try to be friends.

I don’t remember her name, and I miss her. It’s weird to miss someone from a dream that I cannot ever remember her name (common issue of names for me). But I do. We were great friends for months, but I’ll forget she ever existed by tomorrow.

If I remembered, I would see if she were a real person. Dreams have a way of coalescing real information.

Anyway, I woke, as is the stimulus for remembered dreams, and was up 1 minute before my alarm to go bicycling. Time to have a light snack and go.


Two dreams

In my dream, I set up a lot of stuff on my coprp desktop but I was not really used yet when I was let go for speaking out too much. (annoying to execs, not violations). I was trying to figure out how to clean it off before leaving so as to not have a security risk for the execs, but I didn’t want to leave people hanging by removing things that no one else had. I was fighting myself over whether to just wipe the system, which would be the easiest way out, but would be a hardship for those who were left. The thing is, no one else would know the hardship even existed. My other option was to save info for when people called me later in the year for help, but even though it would be secure, it would be questionable to have done so. Amazingly, I was not frustrated, just indecisive. Also disappointed in the exec.

Other dream, I remember individually placing hundreds of MineCraft blocks, but not why. This is odd because I really don’t play. IRL, my builds always got destroyed, repeatedly, so I gave up many months ago.