Dreams #3

Dream #3

You Infect [sic] My Mind

Although this post is called Dream #3, really it should be Dreams #3, with an s. This is because I don't have a specific dream in mind; rather, I just have a few things to say about dreams. Alternatively* (alternately?), I could have made this a Today post, because Today, being the second day of Spring quarter, we began discussing Freud in my social science class. In addition to the introduction, we read two lectures about dreams. Well, we were supposed to have read them--I only got around to reading the intro. However, I am going to try really hard to stay on top of readings this quarter.

*I've been using "alternatively" a lot lately. Would it be so nice if everything had an alternate solution?

So I actually wrote this several months ago, but kept it in a file ~/Desktop/moreblog. I should probably start adding .txt to the end of my text files. Here goes:

Dreams are taking over my body. They're like parasites. They control my bodily functions so that they can have the perfect environment to grow and multiply. They make me physically tired so that I'll sleep. I don't care about any of my actual responsibilities, all I want to do is go back to bed and take naps so I can dream. Like the other day--I woke up at 9, showered, and then took a little nap. The dream I was having before my shower, however, resumed, and when I woke up from that nap, I wanted it to keep going. So I took another nap, woke up from it, and continued this process until 1 in the afternoon. Every time I woke up, I wanted to see more of the dream, explore further the landscape of my mind. The question is, Do I care whether they're parasitic? Why not just give in and have another dream?

I don't want to make this much longer, so I'll just list a few things:

-In high school, the few times I remembered my dreams, they were just shittier versions of real life. My friends would be mad at me, I'd keep making mistakes, and nothing would go right

-When discussing Freud today, a classmate mentioned something about how some people remember dreams a lot better after naps. That got me thinking, What if the nature of nap dreams is somehow different from the nature of dreams during extended rest?

-I want to make a video game where you have to enter character's dreams and get information from them. Kind of like Inception, I suppose, but it would require some amount of interpretation. Like, you'd see a bunch of butterflies and then would have to look up to know that butterflies indicate innocence or something

("You infect my mind," incidentally, is from Inception. Mal says it, and because I think she's a little foreign, she says 'infect' instead of the grammatically superior 'infected'.)

List #8

List #8
Bren's 7 Worst Things a Hair Stylist Can Say

1. "Oof"
2. "Yeah, those others scissors really make a difference"
3. "At least no one sees the top of your head"
4. "Man, if my tattoo is anything like this haircut, I'm going to be pissed in the morning"
5. "I think I took the wrong approach on this one"
6. "I didn't think I should have taken that into account, I was just following the hairline"
7. "It's all part of the process"

Yesterday #5

Yesterday #5
Message for Terry

After a bit of trouble getting to bed one night, I felt it would be appropriate to sleep with my head at the foot of my bed. About 3:00 that morning, my phone rang. However it wasn't the gentle ring of my cell phone that woke me, it was the cacophonous ring of my dorm phone, normally reserved for telemarketers and the Chicago Tribune. I stumbled out of bed, picked up the receiver, and answered with my usual, "Hello, this is Nick." I heard someone speak, but because it was three in the morning, I was in no state to understand the English language. A conspiracy theorist would have called it alien communication. "Hello?" I asked again. Finally, I gathered enough sense to hear what this woman was saying.

"terry u so hott, i wanna go over there and have sex witchu."
"Excuse me?"
"im tellin u, u so hot."
"I think you have the wrong number."

She proceeds to tell me that she, in fact, does not. Apparently, I KNOW this girl. I know everything about her. In fact, I talk to this girl every day at work. I tell her that I don't have a job, I'm a student. She tells me, yeah, that's what she meant--we are in class together. Only, she won't tell me which class because then I'd know who she was. I point out to her that if we were to have sex, she'd have to tell me who she was anyway.

"u r disrespecting me! here i am, tellin u all these nice things and u wont even listen!"

Is this a prank call? It must be.

She honestly sounds hurt, like she's about to cry. I ask her how she got my number. She said her friend gave it to her. I ask her what time it is. She says it's one o'clock. I tell her my name isn't Terry. She tells me her friend said it was.

"Look, I'm flattered--really, it's so nice--but I'm gay."
"... thas cool. but please, ur hot. ill have sex witchu AND yo boyfrien."
"Oh, wow. You know that's great, but it doesn't really work like that. For me at least."
"PLEASE! ive wanted u for so long, and i didnt know how to tell you, and now ur being all rude and stuff."
"I'm not being rude! I don't even know who you are!"
"YOU KNOW! we talk to each other every day!"

I've decide it's time to go to bed.

"Okay, you know what? Why don't you say hi to me in class tomorrow and then we'll go out for coffee or something."

She seems to take that for an answer so I hang up. I crawl back into bed and decide to sleep the normal way because it really can't take any more strangeness. I'm ready to get in another three hours before All Day Dining when the phone rings again.

"Hello?"
"message for terry."
"I think you have the wrong number."