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Dream July 19 -- Interstellar Convenience Store

Dream July 19, 2021



I had a dream that a relative became the leader of an interstellar space exploration program. I had never seen him so sincerely excited about something like this before. He wanted volunteers from the family, but I was hesitant. His wife convinced me.

The ships were small, not much larger than compact cars, but capable of light speed. I began my journey alone to a far off tendril of the universe. I arrived at my destination in what seemed moments, a planet with no atmosphere. Just an eternal night, a blackness that reached from the surface into the sky, poised forever at midnight with no close star as sun. But the heavens of this planet were not absent of light. As my spacecraft landed, it reversed and faced the sky, giving me a long glimpse of a galaxy of astonishing beauty, spirals of light and thousands of colors both known and unknown. It filled the whole of my vision and I wept as I tried to understand it and capture it to my memory.

The ship touched down beside a small, bubbled dome, and opened its egress portal to an adjacent hole in the dome, allowing me to enter the enclosure without having to suit up. 

The material of the bubble somehow converted the light from the galaxy into a bright and cold fluorescent shine, revealing to me that the inside of the enclosure was an abandoned convenience store.

At once the mystery of my destination was dispelled by the presence of shelves and shelves of candy, snacks, beverages, a profusion of beef jerky, and a clerk-less counter. The familiarity of it all depressed me. The fluorescent glare in the ceiling hid the strange galaxy from my eyes. I opened a drink cooler and took out a damn Dr. Pepper. Drinking a fucking Dr. Pepper on an alien planet! When I cracked it open, I caught sight of a door at the rear of the store. It was unlocked. I opened it and the bizarre dark light of the world splashed in. I held my breath for a second, expecting to suffocate or freeze or cave in or whatever, but the outside did not kill me. I walked out into a small grassy area suffused with the illumination of the galaxy above. At the corner of the area was a small, gray shed, and an oval garden filled the center of the space. With slow understanding I recognized this was a replica of the rear corner of the back yard of my childhood home. The garden was my Father’s, and here it was overgrown with alien flora that stirred in the breeze and reflected the light of the heavens. I cried again, seeing this, this time not feeling cheated by sameness, because while it was familiar, the garden and shed were now inhabiting and inhabited by the strange and distant.

I froze there, standing by the oval garden and had the sense that an enormous period of time was passing, a sense that I was both there and not, seeing my visits to this very space over eons and eons. I watched the flowers and plants in the garden evolve into fauna, alien creatures that ripped themselves out of the garden and ambled away into dark avenues to find their new way. 

The convenience store faded, while the galaxy lights in the sky grew and grew until my mind and thoughts and body were immolated by its star-clustered fingers.


Dream Over

Dream: Something Is Wrong With My Nose

 Dream May 27, 2021



I was living in a cheap, crummy apartment. I had a bed, dresser, and mirror, which was shoved up in the corner next to the door. All the other furniture was cardboard boxes. My television was a large panel of cardboard, upon which was crudely painted a scene from a movie I hated.


My neighbor across the hall was a woman with an enormous bob of blond hair. All day and night, she walked out into the hall in front of my door and stomped her boots on the floor. My door had a square cut out at head level, and was inset with metal bars. The neighbor banged her hair against the door and stuck her tongue through the bars, alternating between screaming and blowing raspberries.


“Ugh,” I said, and the cardboard chair beneath me crumpled. “Shut up! Trying to watch the scene!”


“Come outside and say hello to me!” she yelled.


I got up from the floor and went to the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what looked like a filament of linen float up from behind the headboard above my head. It undulated in the air, floating around the room and gaining both length and girth. It flew behind the mirror and emerged from the other side resembling a cottonmouth. The snake lunged at me, knocking me down on the bed. I caught its head, but it surged again and bit me on the neck. Immediately I felt the effects of the venom, causing extraordinary pain and also an immeasurable peacefulness.


I passed out.


I awoke in a stupor. The snake was gone. My neighbor was staring at me through the bars, expressionless. The apartment was filled with an incredible buzzing sound. A yellow jacket the size of a chihuahua rose up from beneath the bed, buzzing on drunkard wings. Its giant, shrimplike legs brushed against my face as it fell on my chest and then launched again. Its stinger lazily darted at my face and shoulders, looking more like an ovipositor. I successfully dodged all attempts to sting me, then slapped at it; it was liked pushing at a heavy punching bag. The enormous hornet buzzed louder, furious, and quickened from its lethargic hovering. The stinger jabbed at my nose, making contact, burning up my snozz with pain. It clacked its mandibles together and darted away through the mirror into oblivion.


I went to the mirror to check out my throbbing nose. It was violet and swollen, the size of a grapefruit. Lines appeared all over it, like boundaries on a political map. One of the skin countries fell off my nose, landing with a wet smack on the dresser. Then another. A pink mass was revealed as the skin fell off.


My brother appeared beside me and saw my nose. “Oh, that is so gross!”

All the skin had fallen off now, uncovering a pulsing brain. The inside of my nose was a brain that writhed on my face as if trying for escape or some exercise.


“Quick,” I said to my brother. “Get some peroxide!”


He brought me some peroxide and a toothbrush.


“Why the toothbrush?”


“It will help.”


He stood back as if afraid of infection and doused my nose brain in peroxide. A globe of foam ballooned around the flesh. My brother applied the toothbrush and brushed at the foam vigorously; the pain made me weep. After a minute of brushing, he stepped away. I blinked away tears, which rolled down over the flat surface of a large clock. My nose turned brain had now transformed into a digital radio alarm clock radio. The radio was on, but it was static. The red digits on the clock were at 2400 hours, military time. When I peered closer at my new, absurd nose, the time began to count down.


“What happens when the time runs out,” my brother asked.


“I don’t know,” I said.


My neighbor stomped in the hall and blew a raspberry through the bars.


Dream Over





Dream: Flying at Larry David's show and more.

 Had a dream that I posted a picture of me on Twitter wearing a certain T-shirt. ??? got angry; he was sick of seeing the picture.  I closed my laptop and put it on the nightstand and went to sleep. In a doze, I said “Fuck you, Nick.” and I could hear him screaming at me from the closed computer. Subsequently, he started mocking all my Tweets so I had hundreds of mentions.

Then the dream shifted to me living in a mansion that was haunted by thousands of ghosts.

Then I went to a theatre where Larry David was performing a play. It was at that time I decided to show everyone I could fly. I flew up above the stage and floated all over the theatre. People were awestruck and distracted from David’s show. On one of my landings he grabbed my shoulder and told me to fuck off with the flying. I ignored him and flew to the middle of the room. David sent out a flying tiger to attack me. In that moment, I knew it was a dream, so I imagined the tiger was wearing boxing gloves and then it was, and we proceeded to beat each other against the head floating dozens of feet above the audience.

That’s all.


Dream: They were like marshmallows, and blue.

 Dream 10-12-2020




A, Z, and I visited the “home” of some ultra-rich guru in the mountains. It was a bizarre place of high technology situated at the edge of a cliff. Along one side of the house was a three-dimensional square area of forcefields, magnetic and other. I walked in one end and started to float. Stepping into another end caused me to feel sick, as if my head was being squeezed by a vice. 

It became increasingly clear that this was some sort of resort or commune. The grounds were swarming with people, and, blue people. These were Rubenesque humanoids, naked but without genitalia, faceless and entirely blue. They ambled around, bumping into the people. I bumped into several, and they were weirdly soft, like marshmallows. The owner of the commune escorted us up some stairs and onto a large balcony with railings at the side to prevent anyone from falling into the canyon below. We lay on our bellies at one end of the balcony as the owner walked up on a dais to deliver a speech. A control panel was built into the stone directly in front of me, with buttons and digital numbers. I reached into the console and pushed a button. An alarm went off and Z grabbed my shoulder.

“What did you do?” he shouted.

The stone beneath me rose in a circle from the floor. I was elevated higher and higher, above everyone else and then the platform I was on expanded as it moved toward the cliff and bottomless canyon. Handles appeared near my hands as the platform tilted at a dangerous angle and spun 360 degrees. I grabbed the handles but my hands were greasy and they kept slipping away as the platform tried to dump me in the canyon. Around and around I went, and I saw the owner was sitting in a truck on his dais. He said, “I might run over you with my truck!”

The platform tilted once more, and I dangled just for a second above the canyon before it flattened out again and shrunk, drifting again to the space above my original position, then lowering me to safety.

A stood at the far right of the balcony. The floor had risen into a wave far above his head, and he was trying to pull it toward him with his right arm. The wave gave a little, looked like it was made of taffy. He was trying to pull it down to his feet. Then wave stiffened, and its curve suddenly buckled away from A. The violent movement ripped off his arm, flinging it behind me. He didn’t make a sound, but I screamed and the wave rose up and blocked him from view.

Z grabbed my arm and led me past some blue people into an entrance and up another flight of stairs into a small cafeteria. I grabbed Z’s shoulders. “Is A okay? Did he lose his arm?”

“Yes, he did,” Z said, then disappeared into the cafeteria crowd. I was upset that I didn’t know where A was and the general apathetic reaction to the amputation.

I sat down at a table in front of a window. The window looked into a small room. A was in there, and he was flexing a strong, prosthetic arm. He was smiling and didn’t appear to be in pain, which relieved me.

But then I noticed the seam where the arm had been connected. It was blue, blue like the blue people. A saw me through the window and waved. As he waved, the seam bulged and grew, turning blue a few inches above and below the seam. I tried to yell at him but the cafeteria was too loud. He moved out of view, and in dread I realized he was turning into one of the blue people.


Dream Over.

Two Short Dreams: Stranger Chainsaws and the Raining Garage


In some version of our backyard in Paris. One of my sisters had invited a weirdo over, and he was obsessing about a tree that was growing crookedly in the neighbor's yard. He wanted to cut it down. Against my pleas, my sister gave this wartyish guy Dad’s chainsaw. He reached over the fence with the chainsaw, sawing at the tree and it crashed down against the neighbor's house. In a frenzy, the dude began to cut at the fence with the chainsaw, slobbering, whipping it around like it was plastic toy, until my sister knocked him in the head and it whipped out of his hands backward at me, falling just inches from my feet.


I’m in a huge, empty garage. Everything inside has been packed up by my family and put in a van to move. They did this while I was sleeping, and nobody tried to wake me up to ask me to help, and I feel guilty. It’s raining in the garage, and there are puddles of gasoline scattered all around. I am alone except for a toddler boy wearing a raincoat, and a car with its headlights pointed in my direction. I’m supposed to be watching the kid. I think he’s my brother. His name is Aggie. A beautiful woman I love in the dream is behind the wheel and her mother-in-law is in the passenger seat. They are both watching me quietly. The toddler runs all around the wet garage, laughing and slipping on the concrete. It’s very dangerous. I dart towards him, carrying both a lighter and an enormous iPhone. The kid runs in front of me, so I grab for him, which throws the lighter and phone in an arc to land in a puddle of gasoline. I slip in the rain, falling, and the back of the poor toddler’s head smacks gruesomely against the concrete. He cries pitifully as I search the back of his head for blood, but I’m also distracted by searching for my phone and seeing that my lighter has ignited several puddles of gasoline. The woman in the car switches on her brights and starts the engine. The toddler starts to sob and shout, both cute and horrifying, “AGGIE DEAD! AGGIE DEAD!”
The fire grows brighter.

Dream: Confectionary Papist Time Machines

Dream April 13, 2020

Had the weirdest dream recently that I worked in the same office block as a professor in a business college. Our offices were adjacent and open to each other. He had a floating briefcase, and he was also the gatekeeper to a time machine on the other wall of his office, which was a circle at the end of a ramp. People came to ask him questions before they used it. I’d watch the far wall morph into long ago and far future times and places and the people vanish through the circle. One day I got up my nerve. He wasn’t in his office that day, so to summon him, I carried his floating briefcase out into the hallway and back inside the office and he appeared at his desk.
“I want to use the machine,” I asked.
“Okay, where do you think is the most crowded place at any time?”
“The beach.”
“That’s boring. You need to go to Vatican City at any time before 1000 AD.”
“Because the Popes are working on time machines that are supremely more advanced than anything I have. I need you to go there through my special time cannon.” He stepped away from his desk and pointed to the front wall, and a shelf appeared, a perfect square of nine square shelves, each one holding a basketball. “You will stand in front of the time cannon, which will send you to a special time in Rome, probably 337 BC, where the Pope is creating a mind-boggling time machine ENTIRELY OUT OF SUGAR. Sugar!”
I did what he asked and the far wall transformed into a view of the flowing Tiber and a cluster of buildings on the far side. The basketballs exploded and the gatekeeper screamed, “They are made out of sugar!”