I had two apocalyptic dreams last night, and woke up in time for an earthquake. If that's not the world telling me to get a move and a shake on, I don't know what is.
The dreams were kind of interesting, actually — scary when I woke up out of them, but thinking back not so horrific. In the first, the human population had been decimated by some disaster, and, on the island of Manhattan, was split into two factions. I somehow was one of the leaders of one faction, and was trying my darnedest to convince the leaders of the other faction that it would be best for humanity to join together to the cause of survival. My persuasion techniques included rhetorical argument, an appeal to common sense, and womanly wiles. I had to convince all the leaders before the conflict escalated into a full-out war ... as much of a war as an endangered race of beings could have.
In the second dream, we were cleaning out and packing up the house in anticipation of the next morning, when "they" would come pick us up with large buses and take us away. (Side note: whenever I dream about my "home", it's usually the house my parents currently live in, and which I lived in during middle and high school, but always on the street we lived on when I was in elementary school. Not sure what that means.) My dog Chloe was there — in real life, she died 10 months ago — and after the cleaning, the entire neighborhood was at the bar partying it up like there was no tomorrow. Probably because none of us expected to be alive tomorrow. I made a goodbye call to my best friend, who was really rather blasé that my world was about to end. I woke up just as the white (yellow? I don't exactly remember) buses pulled up into the cul-de-sac, and the call was out for us to get on them.
All sorts of surreal.
In real life:
Bad thing that happened this week: I came home Monday evening to find burnt beans in my crockpot, instead of baked. Not enough liquid, I guess, but it was disappointing. What a waste of bacon.
(One) Good thing that happened this week: I came home today to find the photo prints I ordered last week had arrived. Now I just have to sort through them and put them into albums. The prints span over the last two or three years of my life, and I'd been wanting to print them up for a long time. Digital pictures are nice and all, but I feel like you don't get the same enjoyment from them as you do with an actual physical print. Call me old-fashioned, I guess.
Showing posts with label dream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dream. Show all posts
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
Dream Paramour Bruce
Bruce was mentioned back in this post. He's done now. I posted the following to Craftster already, but figure that I might as well also share it with my general Imaginary Internet Audience as well. Just to show that yes, I do finish crafty/arty things.
This is only sort of a personal story.
Bruce came to me in a dream.
It was one of those situations that seem perfectly normal while you're in the dream, but make you think twice about your inner psyche when you wake up in the morning. In this dream, a basilisk and I were, ah, having "intimate relations".
If you know anything about the mythical basilisk, you know that his look means death. (And if you know anything about the real life basilisk, you know that he walks on water, but that's a different story.) In my dream I wasn't concerned about a look of death or getting turned to stone at a glance. While we were locked in that deadly embrace, I was more concerned instead with keeping him distracted every time he tried to bite me. His bite was poison, and he was touchy ... though also easily distracted.
There's a lot of symbolism involved in a dream about making love to a dangerous mythical lizard. I'm very much aware of that. I didn't take much thought to realize what and who this lizard dream represented. The image haunted me for weeks, and during that time I worked diligently on the sculpture I present to you now. He's as close to a spitting image of the lover in my head as I could get.
This's probably the most complicated project I've worked on yet in my weekly ceramics class. Pinchpot-based head and body, tail created using coils, the body elevated with scrap clay while the legs stiffened enough to support the weight of the entire creation. After he was bisque fired, I dabbed him with black underglaze, washed it away, had him high-fired, and then wet brushed him with acrylic paint to get the mottled green look.
The name, Bruce, is taken from the friend who maybe inspired the lizard. Or at least helped me figure him out. He's very special to me, just as this project is very special to me.
But, of course, not so special that any constructive criticism wouldn't be appreciated. (Adoration would be fine, too ;) He is a reptile, after all.) Please let me know what you think.
This is only sort of a personal story.
Bruce came to me in a dream.
It was one of those situations that seem perfectly normal while you're in the dream, but make you think twice about your inner psyche when you wake up in the morning. In this dream, a basilisk and I were, ah, having "intimate relations".
If you know anything about the mythical basilisk, you know that his look means death. (And if you know anything about the real life basilisk, you know that he walks on water, but that's a different story.) In my dream I wasn't concerned about a look of death or getting turned to stone at a glance. While we were locked in that deadly embrace, I was more concerned instead with keeping him distracted every time he tried to bite me. His bite was poison, and he was touchy ... though also easily distracted.
There's a lot of symbolism involved in a dream about making love to a dangerous mythical lizard. I'm very much aware of that. I didn't take much thought to realize what and who this lizard dream represented. The image haunted me for weeks, and during that time I worked diligently on the sculpture I present to you now. He's as close to a spitting image of the lover in my head as I could get.
This's probably the most complicated project I've worked on yet in my weekly ceramics class. Pinchpot-based head and body, tail created using coils, the body elevated with scrap clay while the legs stiffened enough to support the weight of the entire creation. After he was bisque fired, I dabbed him with black underglaze, washed it away, had him high-fired, and then wet brushed him with acrylic paint to get the mottled green look.
The name, Bruce, is taken from the friend who maybe inspired the lizard. Or at least helped me figure him out. He's very special to me, just as this project is very special to me.
But, of course, not so special that any constructive criticism wouldn't be appreciated. (Adoration would be fine, too ;) He is a reptile, after all.) Please let me know what you think.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
The Dream
In my apartment, and I heard a car door slam in front of my apartment, so being the nosy person I am I took a peek through the blinds to see who it was. It was a youngish man, my age, with a six-pack of bottled beer in a paper bag under his arm, and, noticing that I was peeking, he came right up to the window and peered back through the blinds, scaring me for a moment. And then he started calling in to me, asking who was there, asking me to come out and join him. I hesitated, he backed off a little, I ran to the window and called back out to him and he turned around, smiling.
He made some promise as he walked away, down the street to wherever he lived, some enticement to get me to come out. I stayed frozen in indecision, but I should have followed him. I should have taken him up on that promise. Too late, though, because it all faded in to a different scene ....
It was a party, and I didn't know he was going to be there, but he was. The house it was at was on a cul-de-sac, and for some reason there were a lot of strange men biking around and into it to arrive at this shindig.
I knew in the dream that I was still avoiding him — he was not my friend, never was, I just didn't realize it until a little while back — and when my parents showed up and saw him, I somehow managed to steer them away without explaining why I didn't want them to meet him, or chat with him. But then he came over to chat to me. I wanted it to be brief, but he kept talking as if we were still friends and then he told me his mom and brother were arriving, and started steering me over to meet them as they came in.
I ran into my sister, who knows the whole story between us, as we were heading over to the entrance. She glared when she saw him right behind me, his hands on my shoulder, but I snagged her and whispered as I went by, "He wants to introduce me to his mom. Just let it go for now. Don't say anything." And then she disappeared back into the crowd as we moved past.
His mother in my dream (I've never met his real mother) was small, weak, floppy like a broken doll, but he seemed so happy to see her and so proud of her it cracked that wall of reserve I'd been keeping up, though it was cracked a bit already &mdash he wanted me to meet his family, I was important to him.
My dreams only tell me what I want to be so. I want to be important, though I know I'm not. The longer the silence, the more I know it's true. I feel like a fool for ignoring the actions for so long, but listening to the words. The gestures were few and far between, just enough to keep me hoping, never enough to keep me secure.
I leave tomorrow, to be gone for almost two weeks in a place 6,000 miles away. And still no gesture. I've gotten the message ... but, call me nostalgic, I just wish it was a different one.
He made some promise as he walked away, down the street to wherever he lived, some enticement to get me to come out. I stayed frozen in indecision, but I should have followed him. I should have taken him up on that promise. Too late, though, because it all faded in to a different scene ....
It was a party, and I didn't know he was going to be there, but he was. The house it was at was on a cul-de-sac, and for some reason there were a lot of strange men biking around and into it to arrive at this shindig.
I knew in the dream that I was still avoiding him — he was not my friend, never was, I just didn't realize it until a little while back — and when my parents showed up and saw him, I somehow managed to steer them away without explaining why I didn't want them to meet him, or chat with him. But then he came over to chat to me. I wanted it to be brief, but he kept talking as if we were still friends and then he told me his mom and brother were arriving, and started steering me over to meet them as they came in.
I ran into my sister, who knows the whole story between us, as we were heading over to the entrance. She glared when she saw him right behind me, his hands on my shoulder, but I snagged her and whispered as I went by, "He wants to introduce me to his mom. Just let it go for now. Don't say anything." And then she disappeared back into the crowd as we moved past.
His mother in my dream (I've never met his real mother) was small, weak, floppy like a broken doll, but he seemed so happy to see her and so proud of her it cracked that wall of reserve I'd been keeping up, though it was cracked a bit already &mdash he wanted me to meet his family, I was important to him.
My dreams only tell me what I want to be so. I want to be important, though I know I'm not. The longer the silence, the more I know it's true. I feel like a fool for ignoring the actions for so long, but listening to the words. The gestures were few and far between, just enough to keep me hoping, never enough to keep me secure.
I leave tomorrow, to be gone for almost two weeks in a place 6,000 miles away. And still no gesture. I've gotten the message ... but, call me nostalgic, I just wish it was a different one.
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