uberreiniger: (hanging masks)
Being on a Lovecraft kick again, I decided to acquire and read one of the books that inspired Lovecraft's creation of the Cthulu Mythos: The King in Yellow by Robert W. Chambers. Chambers was a bohemian artist of the 1890s who one day, for reasons he never really explained, decided to stop being an artist and start writing sensational romance stories. Shortly before he did that, however, he produced The King In Yellow, a collection of loosely connected, troubling stories of the surreal. The title refers to a fictional play script of the same name that is apparently cursed, bringing madness and death into the lives of all who read it. There are allusions to an entity known only as "Hastur," a blank white mask, and an insidious image known as The Yellow Sign. These things are all the scarier for the way they are only hinted at. These stories are some seriously creepy shit. And this book is messing with my mind.

I only read a few pages of the opening short story the night I got the book. That night I dreamed of Hastur. His white mask didn't have a face. Instead it had the Yellow Sign carved into it where the face should be. It was distressing. But hey, you read horror stories, you have dreams about the monsters, right? No big deal. Later that next day a friend on Facebook posted lyrics to a song by The Dead Milkmen. Not having heard or thought of that band in years, I innocently went and looked them up to see what became of them. It turns out they recently got back together and released a new album... called The King In Yellow!

What are the odds?

So today I went back and finished reading the story. (It's called The Repairer of Reputations, in case you're interested.) Reading it I was struck by a brutal sense of deja vu when I got to a specific line:

...I put the diadem from my head and wiped my forehead, but I thought of Hastur and my own rightful ambition, and I remembered Mr. Wilde as I had last left him...

I realized I had had a dream in which I sat reading this line over and over again several years ago. But I never actually saw it until today.

WTF is going on?

Oh. That...
uberreiniger: (Default)
I must have been very tired from [livejournal.com profile] zombiecowboy's birthday party on Saturday night. Sunday night after watching Juon part 1 and about 15 minutes of part 2 I found myself nodding off and went to bed at the very early hour of 11:30. I had strange, vivid dreams. None strange or vivid enough to merit a dream journal post, but a colorful succession just the same. In one I dreamed I was a teenager, or at least among other teenagers whom I was addressing as a peer. There was a tornado, but I don't remember what the outcome of that ultimately was. I dreamt about World of Warcraft too. The rest is a blur now but it was a lot of intense dreaming. I was awakened by the mailman knocking on the door to deliver the Dunlop strap locks for my new bass. Got those installed before work and felt pretty good about the day.

About a third of the way into my shift started getting texts from my mother that their basement was flooding. This has happened before thanks to a miserly landlord who won't repair the gravity drain in the basement floor. It's been bad before but never like this. Four inches of water, the entire basement filled with it. Many of my parents' possessions from their entire life are ruined and so were a few precious ones of mine. Namely the first guitar I ever bought. I don't play it anymore because my others are better but it has great sentimental value. I mowed lawns for two years to save up to buy that thing. It's the product of a labor born of sweat and determination and I have saved it as a reminder of my musical dreams.

It was lying on the floor completely submerged. I am sure the electronics are completely shot but I will let it dry out and see. I should have just brought it with me when I moved. I've nearly taken it with me several times I've been back over there but each time I didn't want to deal with lugging it and just figured I'd get it another time.

I could kick myself now.

My parents have renters insurance. We will be reimbursed for everything, hopefully. They are feeling quite wretched and I feel so bad for them. Someone had arrived to suction the water out as I left tonight. All that sleeping last night and now I am so tired.
uberreiniger: (hanging masks)
I haven't posted a dream journal in a really long time; almost a year, I think. My dreams have been blessedly uninteresting.

Tonight I laid down at 7:30 PM to take a nap and finally had a more vivid dream than I've had in a long time which woke me up at 1:30 AM. Been wide awake ever since.

I'm sure I've said it before but I don't have recurring dreams in the way people probably think of the term. I'll dream I'm in the same place doing the same thing but it doesn't follow a "script" and it's never the same way twice. Tonight I had the "back in college" dream. As usual, this dream involved me trying to attend classes that were somehow scheduled at the same time. Unlike usual, I was not also trying to prepare for a final in a class I had not realized I was enrolled in all semester and therefore had never attended.

This dream is never as interesting as its location. I attended Kansas State University which is a campus full of old, decrepit, decaying buildings that are never cleaned. In my dream the buildings are always even older, more decayed and decrepit, and even less clean. The dream almost always features a building, or sometimes a trio of buildings, that don't have a counterpart on the real-life campus. It (or they) looks like the other campus buildings at a glance but there's something wrong with it. It just seems to radiate evil and sometimes it's decorated with baroque-style sculptures - a common feature of "bad" places in my dreams. Sometimes the building(s) even has a stench coming from it that it seems only I can smell.

When I'm in this dream environment, I always know the building is there on the campus before I see it. As I said, it has no real counterpart, yet I "remember" it just the same. Most of the time I actively try to avoid coming in sight of it; a few times I deliberately seek it out. Of course I always wind up there. I have never gained entry to this building. In fact, it doesn't seem like a building that *can* be entered. It's like a mausoleum, in a way: a building you're supposed to look at but not go inside of.

Tonight when I found the evil building (just one building this time instead of three,) there were what appeared to be RenFest actors performing in front of it. They were apparently pretending to be ghosts of soldiers slain on a battlefield. They had on greenish makeup and medieval armor with green tarnishing on it in places. One of these men in particular was walking up and down the sidewalk doing his best cheesy ghost routine, moaning at passersby "W-h-e-r-e are my teeth? G-i-i-i-v-e me my teeth!"

I was one of the people he accosted and he roped me into his schtick, talking about his damn teeth. It actually diverted my attention from the eldritch house of indescribable evil lurking behind us and just then I woke up. I have no idea what the house is, what it symbolizes, and why it keeps luring me to it. I do know that I've never been so grateful to be harassed by an in-your-face Rennie before.
uberreiniger: (Hell Is Coming)
I haven't had a dream worth posting in a long time, but in the an-and-a-half more that I slept following M.'s leaving for class this morning I had a doozy.

I guess it doesn't sound like that much of a doozy but as I write it up, but it was one of the most vivid dreams I've had in a while. It involved a lot of me and M. driving around the backroads of the Kansas sand hills - a place I haven't been in almost twenty years - trying to find... I don't know what place we were trying to find now, but in the dream it seemed very important that we get there.

This road trip kept being interspersed with other elements, like different simultaneous scenes in a movie. The other subplot that stood out the most was that my friends' dog Mickey was back from the dead. Well, more like he never died in the first place and we were pet-sitting him. Although the house was less like me own and more like the place where [livejournal.com profile] duendegrrl and her husband live. Mickey started barking so we shut him up in a room until he calmed down, although I apparently didn't know that our cat Zephyr was sleeping in the room at the time. I go back to the room for something and open the door and Zephyr tackles me, knocking me down, (he is a very big cat.) With me pinned on the bed he starts growling and manages to growl the words "Get me out of here!" So then I am carrying Zephyr through the house trying to convince everyone I meet that our cat can talk but no one seems to want to listen.

None of that was what made this a nightmare. The nightmare part comes from at least three occasions in the dream where it would seem that I was watching something on a TV or a computer. What I saw was a frozen, static-blurred video image of what looked like a den room in a house. Seated and smiling in front of the camera was [livejournal.com profile] para_xylene Although the image was like a frozen video still, the camera would somehow pan to the windows behind her. Even though nothing else in the image moved, hands and leering, grinning faces would begin slowly pushing their way in through the windows. It all happens to the sound of what can only be described as Silent Hill music, only more dissonant and shrill, if that's possible. It was fucked up!

Never have I been happier to be woken up by an urgent need to use the bathroom.
uberreiniger: (theatre)
Last night I dreamed that I was in a band with a bunch of guys I'd never seen before and we were filming a music video for our cover of Voivod's cover of Pink Floyd's song "Astronomy Domine." Here is the Voivod version in case you've never heard it and are interested:

Now, I couldn't have been more than twelve of thirteen when I first heard this song and it was an experience I liken to losing one's virginity: brief, scary, bewildering, but it left me with no doubt that I wanted to experience it again. This song opened the door to an entire universe of music for me so it makes sense that I would dream about it even if I haven't actually listened to it in a while.

Unlike the Voivod video which was shot in a warehouse, in my dream me and the bandmates were filming it in the backyard of the house next door to the house I grew up in. It was a rental property and we had a revolving door of neighbors over the years, but it had a really nice backyard, fenced in and surrounded by old trees so that it looked like it was wooded. In the video were to be walking through the woods singing the song while naked nymphs or succubi or something tried to lure us into their clutches; not to do sexual things but to like, kill us. I know there were to be shots of us playing our instruments but the dream didn't last long enough to actually film that. I'm not sure what instrument I even played in this band.

That was pretty much it: walking through a familiar childhood place, singing my favorite song from when I was 13, being shoved about by naked females. Regression to puberty, maybe? I've been wanting to make music very much lately. Could it have been a message not to give up on the goal inspired partly by that song and worked toward while looking at that house? My bedroom window where I would practice my guitar as a teen directly faced the neighbor's house and the little gate to their backyard. It sure seems like it could be the first hypothesis but considering where I'm at right now I think it might be the latter.
uberreiniger: (For a Muse)
Fragments of dreams. These were dissipating even as I woke up but I held on to what I could.

-Walking at night under a railroad trestle with a former LJ friend whom I haven't spoke to in about two years and whom I've never met and her boyfriend. I was carrying a can of motor oil. Everyone was apparently supposed to bring a can. The woman and the boyfriend were arguing because he had brought a bunch of extra cans. She was insisting that everyone was supposed to bring theirs so extras weren't necessary. He was saying that he knew a bunch of people were going to forget theirs so that's why he brought extra.

-I was a man working in some kind of office. It looked like the store I work in, but laid out as an office. I was hearing this character's biography in my mind about how he attended some cabaret-style event every Friday and planned to do so for the rest of his life.

-Alternating "shots" of the trainyard and the office, hearing the man's thoughts about gay rights or wondering if he might be gay. At one point in the trainyard I was me again, walking with the woman and I asked her how her boyfriend was.

-Shot of a 80's video game cabinet scene. On it was playing a game similar to Centipede. This was juxtaposed with the sound of a woman singing what sounded like a jingle for a girl's toy commercial. I only remember the words "...and have a lovely tea time!"

This is the second time in a week I have dreamed about centipedes in some form.
uberreiniger: (Satanic Winter Goat)
FACT: Your dreams aren't interesting to other people. But I feel a compelling urge to begin a dream journal anyway. I don't know why. These last two days I have had some interesting nightmares.

uberreiniger: (For a Muse)
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My earliest childhood dream was to be an astronaut. This was before I found out that they do not in real life get to go to other planets and fight aliens. So I became a writer instead and now get to go to as many planets and fight as many aliens as I want.

I think it worked out.
uberreiniger: (Bender believe or understand)
What's the name of that humongous sandstone mound in Australia that's sacred to the aborigines? I had a really involved dream about it last night and I can't remember what it's called.
uberreiniger: (Desmond numbers)
Couldn't get to sleep last night for some reason. Then when I finally did get to sleep I kept waking up. When I did sleep I had very immersive dreams, one of which was about LOST.

Cut in case you don't care about dreams or Lost. )

In case you're wondering, I haven't seen the Lost premier in its entirity yet so no spoilers.

The tiredness is catching up. I've been pretty peppy all morning, but now I'm starting to feel the lack of sleep.
uberreiniger: (Default)
Happy New Year to everyone. My resolutions this year are:

1) Read 24 novels in one year. I made it to 17 this year which is still a new record for me but now I want to beat it.

2) Actually finish writing a book. I didn't do this in 2008. And I call myself a writer.

Last night I dreamt that it was the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles vs. the Heath Ledger Joker. Don't laugh, it was actually really fucked up.

I started out in this post-apocalyptic desert town complete with gangs of grimy Australian punk guys. I was supposed to deliver an attache case to one of the gangs but apparently they suspected a doublecross so they took me into an empty building where they were going to gun me down. Apparently I did something funny though and while they were distracted laughing the Ninja Turtles jumped out and ambushed them. I was suddenly Leonardo turtle and joined the fight and the Turtles' nemesis the Shredder appeared. I easily defeated him but was suddenly overcome with Hero Angst and couldn't bring myself to kill him. Then the slain bad guys got up and the Shredder explained that it had all been a training exercise to prepare us to fight the deadliest enemy we had yet faced: the Joker. And of course Shredder had to give me the token Bad Guy speech about how I must overcome my moral qualms about killing, etc., etc.

I must have been a wereturtle because suddenly I was a person again and walking down a street by the park in my hometown. A purple and green stretch limousine drove past me and of course I knew it was the Joker's. Suddenly there was a woman walking behind me. She looked normal at first, but then she started whistling this really creepy, repetitive tune. When I looked back again she looked like the witch from Stardust who turned people into animals, except she was wearing a purple Joker suit and had badly-dyed green hair instead of badly-dyed red hair. In the logic of dreams I immediately deduced that this was the Joker's mother and she'd come to help her son kill me.

What followed was a very scary nightmare chase in which I was being pursued by the Joker and Mrs. Joker. Apparently I was luring them into a trap though because I manuevered them into an empty apartment where the Turtles were waiting. I turned into Leonardo again and after a nasty fight we managed to shut the Joker and his mom inside the kitchen cabinets. We then began stabbing our weapons through the cabinets at them, blood leaking out all over the kitchen floor as we did so.

Then my cat Zoe decided it was time to wake me up! Happy New Year!

The answers from the Nostradamus post. )
uberreiniger: (lesbians 3 (iconspirit))
Last night I went to bed high on Obama's victory, had dreams of women engaged in sapphic breast fights, and woke up with a sore throat.

I didn't expect Obama to win by the landslide that he did. It was amazing. But I really want to give my respect to John McCain for the beautiful, classy concession speech that he gave. I've believed in John McCain for as long as I've known who he was. This year I felt that he betrayed me. Last night I watched him become the man I admired again. I hope he stays that way, that he will be willing to help Obama lead this country and that Obama will be willing to let him.

I believe Obama is a good man. History was made last night. I hope he will be worthy of the honor he has received, that he will be the man to meet the colossal challenges he will inherit.

News has just come down that Prop 8 has passed in California. Now I have been saying this all morning so I apologize if you're hearing it again, but it is a message that I feel cannot be stressed enough:

All that the passing of Prop 8 means is that we still have more work to do!

Part of what supposedly makes America great is that we do not rest secure in our victories. We're always on to the next challenge, the next obstacle to overcome. Even if everything about the new administration fails the fact still stands that last night we proved that paradigms can be shattered. So let them have their Prop 8 while it lasts. It's only a matter of time now.

And now if you're tired of the soap box you can read about that weird booby dream I had last night. )

Toxic day

Jun. 19th, 2008 11:03 am
uberreiniger: (crap (base enrianna))
Yesterday I worked the first of three twelve hour shifts in a row. Now I'm on the second. I must have slept wrong because I woke up about 5:30 AM with my head and neck aching. I did manage to get maybe another half hour of sleep in which I had the most DISGUSTING dream I've had in years.

Now I'm on the second twelve hour shift. I'm still aching and in the room adjoining our office they are using a wet-cut saw on conrete so I'm breathing all kinds of fumes, making my aches worse.

A minute ago I got up and held open the front door so one of the workers could wheel in a machine. While holding it I brushed up against a handrail that had been freshly painted.

White paint on the seat of my black pants.

And for the last two hours of my shift I get to train a new employee.

I shouldn't have reminded myself of the dream as I can now add mild nausea to the aches. Although that may be the fumes' fault as well.

uberreiniger: (Bender believe or understand)
I have not yet seen the movie No Country For Old Men but that didn't stop me from having nightmares about it. I dreamt that my workplace was actually some sort of police station and the film's greasy-haired villain (who I think looks like a hybrid of Steve Buscemi and the Terminator,) was systematically and robotically killing everyone. He didn't know I was there and for some reason I was sneaking around in the wake of his murder collecting keys and severed human fingers, then storing them in a safe. But when I finally had all the keys and fingers and went to get them out of the safe to make my escape, they were gone. Which means HE KNEW THAT I KNEW!!!! I thus escaped with the knowledge that he was coming after me next. Woody Harrelson made a brief appearance, but just to speak his line from the film's trailer: "Ah know he's uh psychopathic killuh..." But I guess since the trailer is all I've seen that makes sense.

I slept better even if I did wake up with my neck in pain again. After an ill-fated supper at Taco Bueno* we got home close to eight o'clock. I laid down and don't even know at what point I passed out after that. I slept the whole night through and apparently I really needed it. I feel like a new person today. Maybe the No Country For Old Men guy was symbollic of my mind and body brutally renewing themselves.

*Worst Mexican food I've ever tasted. Makes Taco Bell look like five-star dining. Ordered a chalupa-like thing that consisted of about a teaspoon of beef, a teaspon of lettuce, and then about a pound of thick, nasty, cement-like bean paste. Nachos came with something best described as cheese-flavoured glue. However, if you like bland, tasteless muck and your criteria for bland, tasteless muck is that it be shaped vaguely like a taco, then Taco Bueno just might be the restaurant for you.
uberreiniger: (commedia)
Today in [livejournal.com profile] christianity someone made the analogy "if Adam was Windows 3.11, and the Jews were Windows XP, then Jesus was Mac OS X"

I replied with "If by Mac OS X you mean that most people don't have Him and wish that the few people who do have Him would shut up about how great He is, then yes."

Man, I didn't even get a pity laugh! I thought it was brilliant.

After twelve hours of work on an hour of sleep I came home, binged on McDonald's, and slept for twelve hours. It felt NICE although I was sad to lose the entire night. I also had a strange dream about stuffing Mr. T and this kid who bullied me in grade school into boxes and mailing them, then rushing to track down the packages because I was afraid they'd suffocate. I found and rescued the bully, but Mr. T had been removed from his box by someone else. Whoever it was was likely a fool and deserving of pity.
uberreiniger: (Desmond numbers)
Friday night I dreamt the coolest fandom crossover episode. The entire dream was a Lost "flashback" to when Sayid Jirrah lived in London... hunting vampires with Rupert Giles and Willow Rosenberg. It was like actually watching an episode on DVD because Terry O'Quinn (Locke) was doing voice-over commentary, despite the fact that his character never appeared. The only really confusing part was that it was stated as happening before Giles went to Sunnydale, so why Willow would be there eludes me. But since lost rides the time-space continuum hard and puts it away wet I wasn't really too concerned about it. Surprisingly, the two Lost actors who have appeared on Angel, Josh Holloway and Sam Anderson, were nowhere to be found.

This weekend has felt very long. Mel has had the misfortune to be sick during most of it. We've alternated playing World of Warcraft and other such entertaining pursuits. It's been kind of nice, aside from the sick part.

There was also a strange incident during a trip to the Walgreens down the street wherein an employee somehow bodily fell into a toilet clogged with excrement, but I think the less that's said about that, the better.
uberreiniger: (Silent Hill gimp (hiddenviolence))
So last Sunday night's episode of Lucy the Daughter of the Devil  inspired me to go read up on teratomas - You know, that creepy phenomenon where you absorb your twin in utero and years later it pops back out of you as a monstrous growth with eyes and teeth and hair? From there I started reading up on parasitic twins... lovely. That was days ago. But not long enough that it was enough to stop me from having some weird nightmares last night.

And then when I woke up I was late for work :(
uberreiniger: (Eternal Punishment)
I have my second interview for the Walgreens management program Monday morning. With my parents' financial assistance I have a brand new black suit for the interview and also what is probably the most conservative hair cut I've had since I was twelve years old. I keep reaching up to the back of my neck expecting stuff to be there and it's not. I just hope it's worth it. By all accounts this district manager is really hard to get past. The hours with this job might suck and it will mean all the disadvantages of retail, but the money is damn good and would, I think, make it all worth it.

At my current work the employees are slowly evacuating to their new building. We will soon be guarding an empty building. It's really kind of depressing as the entire atmosphere of the place now is one of grinding down, dying off, approaching zero. I really hope I get a new job before our contract is up. I don't want to be there on the last day, having to be the one who turns out the lights and locks the doors for the last time.

Last night's Pyramid Head nightmare, cut for those who don't care about dream posts )
uberreiniger: (saint (skellorg))
I don't often have recurring dreams, but I do sometimes have recurring locations in my dreams. Lately I've been dreaming often of a church in my hometown. It was on my street about two miles north of where I lived, a Nazarene church of orange brick with a blue stained glass semicircular window above the door. In the 20+ years I lived in that town, I may have been inside of it once, and even that may be a childhood memory I've confused with a flight of fancy.

This church never meant anything to me. It was a landmark, that's all, although I always thought the blue stained glass window looked pretty. But I've had several dreams of it these past few months, all of them dark and twisted. Last night I dreamt I wound up there after a foot chase through the town with me being pursued by murderous corrupt cops (long story.) The modest little church had grown into a cathedral surrounded by large structures of connected arches of baroque design and covered with elaborate bronze decorations and inscriptions. I wish I could remember what the inscriptions said. The overall feeling was one of beauty and wonder, but if I saw those same structures in real life I think they would scare me.

I remember another dream where I was again running through the town as supernatural darkness slowly engulged it. My path took me right past the church and it seems I tried to take refuge within.

The dream that started it all involved me simply walking up the steps and walking inside it where I began exploring the rooms. Nothing out of the ordinary until the room with a floor of quicksand and occupied by a woman's severed head and a giant mosquito. The woman's head continued to speak to me as it sank into the sand.

If I were a character in a story I would be having these dreams because some terrible, ancient evil had taken root in that church and many years later I was now being called back to my hometown to fight it. At the very least it would be because something terrible happened to me there once which I am just now starting to remember.

Since this isn't a story then perhaps it is a story I will write.
uberreiniger: (Mnemon MILF)
Last night (when the word came down/Ten dead in Chinatown...) I had a dream that I was composing a black metal version of the classic Fleetwood Mac song "Rhiannon." I couldn't seem to get past that vexing hook of "would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win?" but I must say that part was turning out rather nice. I was just figuring out how to sing it with this nice raspy Cradle of Filth-style shriek. Before I woke up I was obsessing over whether to credit the original songwriters in the liner notes by their full names or by initial plus last name (e.g., M. Fleetwood, S. Nicks, etc.)

In the waking world, I have job-hunting fatigue. I filled out four applications yesterday. I'm pooped and taking today off from it. I just hope something will open up soon. If I don't get any interviews from this round I'm going to heavily overhaul my resume. Today I went and played a few hands of L5R with my dad and that was a nice diversion and change of pace from the daily pouring over of Monster.com.

I don't know why I bother watching news coverage of Israel conflict. I believe the Bible, so it's not like I don't already know how it all ends.

On a more profane note, I have found it is fun to use the names of male porn stars as adjectives for food items of great size. Today I enjoyed a carbonated beverage from Quik Trip which was positively Ron Jeremian in stature, then came home and chowed down on some brautwurst of John Holmesian proportions. As [livejournal.com profile] megiloth would say, I ain't queer or nothin'. I just believe it wasteful to deny the humorous potential of big penis. Ayup. Big penis humor; it was good enough for Aristophanes and it's good enough for me!

I suddenly feel uncomfortable ending this entry with talk of penises. So... should I create that seething black metal cover of "Rhiannon" or what?


uberreiniger: (Default)

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