Dream journal.

[njhorror]

Strange dreams lately. It's like someone else is dreaming and I just happen to be present, like an observer, or a witness.

[Wolftrappe]

Yeah, almost all of my dreams are like that. Even if I'm in them directly (which is sort of rare, often it's like I'm watching a movie or something), it's not really me.

Haven't had any interesting ones lately. I dreamed about recommending the movie Meek's Cutoff to someone who was using the game Oregon Trail as some kind of teaching tool.

[njhorror]

My dreams have been quite violent lately, and some really weird stuff, as well. Need more vitamin B.

[Cnev]

Although I haven't had it a few years, I used to have a frequently recurring dream that would wake me up in what I can only describe as a waking nightmare. It always starts with me standing in front of a huge tower made of what seems like stainless steel. It's structure is that of a skyscraper, and is jagged like it has been constructed out of legos. It sits upon a small hill rising above a vast, open plain of brightly colored grass. This whole landscape before me feels incredibly small and compact and is completely surrounded by nothing but a blackness that possesses a very thick, suffocating quality. I always make a point to look up toward the top. It always seems infinitely large, and the longer I gaze upon it, the more incomprehensible it's structure, size and purpose become. At the top sits a single antenna with a flashing red light that always makes me feel as though this place has some kind of purpose beyond my understanding, or that the inside is bustling with people working frantically on god knows what. Switch slides.

The next scene is of me standing inside an elevator facing steel double doors. It's walls and flooring are colored maroon and hunter green, two colors I have hated ever since childhood. There is a single light overhead of a yellowish color, so dim and subtle the only effect it really has is to taint the entire elevator with a dirty yellowish haze that sucks the life out of me and anything else that I happen to share that elevator with. If there was ever a light source made for putting people into a fit of worthless depression, this was it. It makes me feel completely and wholly disgusting. It still does whenever I think about it. Switch slides.

The elevator doors eventually opened after what seemed like mere seconds. I then peer out into a long hallway lit the same way as the elevator, and with carpeting colored in the same maroon and hunter green. On the left wall is a series of doors extending down as far as I can see, with plaques on the front I cannot read. On the right side are rectangular windows, probably 6'x4', lining the entire wall. I always stop in front of the first one and look down to see a thin layer of clouds halfway down the tower and bright flickering lights shining through their small openings. Even though I recognize the clouds being halfway down the tower, I cannot see the grass or the hill it sits upon. The tower itself just distorts into blackness, almost like it is hovering in nothingness. I then walk further down to the end of the hallway, where I am met with a final door with no plaque. At this point I sense that this is a special place for damaged, broken people, and at that moment I gain a very acute sense that many have walked this hallway before me, but their intent was not very wholesome. That is where it ends every time.


As time went on from the original dream, certain things subtly changed. The grass that surrounded the tower grew increasingly brighter with every dream, until the last where it was neon, resembling something from a wacky art-house video game. Also, the tower itself became more and more jagged when looking from the outside, and much taller when viewed from within, like it was growing higher and further away from those city-like sparkles of light.


Upon waking I always feel completely and utterly drained of any ability to function positively. It feels as though the entire world is stalking me. I used to go outside immediately for fresh air after waking and everything that I could possibly sense felt like it was a predator surrounding me, drawing in closer and closer for the kill. I mean everything. Cars, trees, streetlights. houses. Everything seemed to emanate a suffocating evil. I'm very glad I haven't experienced this in a while.


On a positive note, this dream is the reason I found Ligotti. A few years prior I was given a CD by an old manager of mine. He said he found it overseas, and consequently had to pay $30 for it. I listened to it maybe once, and never gave it any more attention until I began having these dreams. Some of the things spoken of on that album really resonated deeply with me, although at the time I wasn't really sure why or how. They were terrifying, comforting, inspiring and emotionally and intellectually stimulating to my young brain. The CD was Current 93's “I Have A Special Plan For This World”. It was actually many years after being given that album that I found out the words were from Ligotti(Thanks TLO!). I then began buying everything my lousy income could afford.



Anywho, sorry for the length.

	TLO THOMAS LIGOTTI ONLINE

[njhorror]

Last night I dreamed that I saw a large "cat" slink down a tree trunk and crawl under a wall in the workshop where I was doing some work. The workshop was about 150 ft. wide and served as a carriage house/barn between a church and a rectory. I approached the workshop and opened one of the large doors. After a quick look inside I determined that the "cat" had slipped out.
As I returned to the outdoors I started thinking that it was some kind of wild cat like a bobcat only larger. I walked to the street corner and saw the "cat" challenged by other animals, shredding dogs, and other cats with its claws before it ran away and hid.
I joined up with some other people and we decided to scour the church grounds and the surrounding neighborhood. We looked inside bushes, down wells, up in trees, and then finally it walked around the corner down the block and looked at me. As we fanned out to try and kill/capture the beast, we realized that it was a small mountain lion and that it was after me.

[Wolftrappe]

There’s some kind of European cathedral, all buttresses and spires in gray stone. Outside, there’s a warding statue of some kind. Maybe it’s a a gargoyle or a saint. One night it bursts into flames. An ancient creature from deep beneath the earth or from the spaces between the stars settles in the cathedral. All the art inside gets transformed to include its image. Dusty tentacles wrap around the stations of the cross in paint and plaster that’s somehow precisely as old as the original frescos. It’s like they were there all along, but have only just been revealed, as if uncovered by archaeologists on cave walls. We’re driving back to rescue some people. But all the entrances into the plaza are blocked with thick wire screens. There’s going to be a sacrifice. You’re looking up possible solutions on Youtube. Then you show me a long video about poverty in Africa, and everyone in the car feels dejected. We might as well give up.

[teguififthzeal]

I had been adopted by a short Chinese man who wore a robe made with thick
toilet paper. He introduces me to a few members of his family, all of whom live in
a dimly lit bathhouse. The water is steamy but hard to feel: the steam is more
relevant. He has adopts me because for these ‘big words’ I know. He imagines
I have some noble destiny. I never see his face entirely. ”ism’s” really impress him.
Introducing me to a woman stuck to the ground on all fours by sticky green scales, she smiles as wet dominoes fall from her mouth. Smiling at me indifferently, she breathes
like a machine or a sputtering diesel engine politely dying. The water creaks in and
out of her mouth with a kind of gelatin fatigue. The walls are a chipped beige
copper. While I refuse to look underwater, he told me (and I know) that an extending
aluminum dragon is underneath the water, also copper and fatigued. The sound of the
dragon breathing is mechanized, the creaking a garbage disposal or a steel boat tipping. There may be a wet recorder made of battered nails, discolored, playing this sound deep
it’s mouth…

[njhorror]

I've stopped to put air in my bicycle tire and as I'm bent over, readying the tire, a Russian woman grabs the airhose and sticks it in my pants. My pants fill up with helium and I start to rise, bottom up. I'm able to control my elevation and direction with precise bursts of gas. I drift over fields and lakes, waving at cows and peasants. The cows nod in greeting, the dour faced peasants do not. I start to descend rapidly as if I'm wearing a jetpack. I buzz the cursing peasants and swoop low over a runway with military jets idling. The pilots start to shake their fists and I expel a large amout of gas in their general direction. I zoom off and the jets are unable to follow, because the mechanics have drunk all the fuel. As I glide to a soft landing I lose a shoe that hits an olympic skater in the head knocking the scowl off her face, and thereby saving the world from an overabundance of scowling dour faces, and shaking fists clogging the air.