hands

Jul. 22nd, 2014 02:12 am
xenologer: (angel/11)
Had a dream that some non-humanoid species were complaining about disguising themselves as humans because our hands are too weird and inconvenient. "Any time you want to pick something up you have to wrap your hand around it." The sheer annoyed bewilderment in their voices when they said that...
xenologer: (happy!)
Crashed for a couple of hours unexpectedly and had dreams about filling my kitchen with a couple inches of water to observe the social habits of colorful nudibranches.

They were so cute!
xenologer: (Lisbeth)
The Plot Hook

Had a dream that near me there was this really fuckin' sweet fair-type thing full of a mix of Marvel-themed stuff and truly decadent historical fashion, all of which is pretty much tailor-made to fascinate any dream version of me. My parents were not supportive of me going there and actually tried to take away the things I bought and destroy them (including a white silk gown and some Marvel-themed underwear which were all in my size because hell yeah dream fair).

There was a screaming match and I fled back to the carnival, but had had to hide all the stuff I'd bought to keep it safe and now didn't have any money either. I ended up just walking around mooning over stuff I wanted. A guy wearing a suit in that very Ralph Lauren style of layered plaids (orange and grey Glenurquhart check on the jacket with matching plaid pants, a grey sweatervest over another kind of orange plaid shirt and a really goddamn sweet top hat and just generally ridiculously god damn stylish) saw that I was looking at stuff I couldn't buy and offered to get them for me.

I told him that wasn't necessary because really I don't actually need-need any of these things. He pressed it though and said it wouldn't be a big deal at all and I let him buy them for me.

Unbeknownst to Dream Protagonist Me, but which was seen by Omniscient Narrator Me, he turned my troublesome parents into porcelain representations of themselves (so like, porcelain statues of just their iconic pieces of clothing, stuff like a porcelain statue of my father's favorite robe) and put them on a table of prizes. He said that he didn't mind buying me stuff at all, and let me know that if I was interested, I could complete some challenges to win even more free stuff. He pointed to the table of prizes.

When asked which things I wanted to compete for, I picked the porcelain statues that had once been my parents, thinking that it would be a great way to get on their good sides to present them with things that were such obvious homages to things they liked. Then I guess I picked a champion who started going through the challenges on my behalf.

This was about when I noticed that the guy who'd offered me this allegedly-wonderful chance was actually a lot younger than I'd realized, and pretty cute. He had that thick curling brown hair thing, but a serious bad attitude that made him quite a lot less attractive because assholes aren't actually romantic winners to me. Unfortunately, he was an asshole. He was also some kind of deal-making scam faerie, which is such a common archetype that all it took was him alluding to how different things were "where people like him came from" for Dream Protagonist Me to catch up to Omniscient Narrator Me in realizing what he was and what was going on.

I called him on this little verbal slip, and asked him if that meant what I thought it meant. He got really really defensive, in that way that people have when they expect to get a lot of shit about something. He asked, "well what would that mean to you?" and I shrugged and said, "People aren't always made the same way. Doesn't make them any less people."

This totally astonished him.

Personhood theory: nobody ever sees it coming?

His attitude softened a lot, but in some ways it was too late. At the time of me asking him, I'd set off some kind of defensive contingency that couldn't be stopped now that he'd realized that actually maybe I was an opportunity for him to have a friend. Spawn--yes fucking comic book Spawn--goddamn Kool-Aid Man'd his way through the wall, in so doing fucking up the competition to get my parents back. Thankfully he only pushed my champion closer to his goal, so I got my parents back.

But by then we had a larger problem.

This is about when the real plot drops.

The Real Plot

My guy--whose name I don't believe was ever actually stated in the dream--was taken away by his guardian and this is when my guy's owner got involved and I learned that there is this really frighteningly oppressive faerie hierarchy in which some faith-based entities outrank and even own others. Turns out that my guy was owned by the scariest motherfucker around. Nobody wanted to mess with this creature; nobody even wanted to say his name, but I got it out of them.

It was--

wait for it

--the Final Duck.

God damn faeries and their ridiculously laughable outward presentations hiding rulership of terrifyingly powerful hordes of more credible-seeming underlings! *fist shake*

The Final Duck was seriously a small white bird that basically ran the joint. The joint being an otherworldly carnival at which mortal people could peruse wares, shop, and get screwed over by faeries. That latter thing was supposed to be me, and the Final Duck decided for the evulz that it would be hilaaaarious to screw with me while punishing his underling for trying to have things of his own like friends.

So it threw my guy into an antique video game, the kind of outmoded piece of crap that nobody ever played and was quite frankly only fit to be scrapped. I was obviously tremendously upset by this! I didn't really have any hope of getting him back for a good while, but I kept coming to the carnival. People got to know me, and got to like me okay mostly due to me not being a complete asshole bent on ripping off everybody everywhere. I also obviously made a lot of pilgrimages to the game that had been the instrument of my friend's dissolution.

One day the lady who'd taken over that station waved me over because, like I said, everybody knew who I was and why I was still coming around. She'd found things in the game's list of available character profiles and help documentation. There were pictures of my friend in there, randomly dispersed through other data. Most of the time he was visibly getting pissed and shouting at the denizens of the game, which kind of made me smile. It also made it clear that something of him was still in this game, which meant that it might be possible to get him out.

That was why she'd shown me.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that if there was one thing the Fuck You Faerie Carnival does respect, it's a good quest narrative.

That god damn Final Duck (I still don't know what this name means) realized that I'd caught on and was only too pleased to use it as his next opportunity to be a total asshole who breaks little mortal girls' hearts. He decided now it was time to destroy that game so that I could lose my friend all over again.

At this point it was time for a levelling-up quest montage during which the real theme of this whole thing began to be clear to both Omniscient Narrator Me and Dream Protagonist Me. The nice ingenue human girl who was willing to accept anybody from anywhere if they'd just stop being assholes for like two seconds was rapidly turning into someone colder, harder, and far more dangerous. Dream Protagonist Me saw this happening to herself, and did not care. What mattered was the quest, not what she had to become in order to fulfill it.

One of the changes that took place happened when the Final Duck threw the game into an exterior wall of the carnival, throwing it through the wall and out toward the ocean waves below which were dramatically crashing into rocks which were dramatically placed at the bottom of this very dramatic cliff. The game knocked someone else through the wall as well and when the game broke against the wall, my friend was freed from it. Unfortunately, it left us with a dangerous situation.

Clinging to the floor, trying to keep from being flung into the rocky surf below, was a werewolf. Clinging to the werewolf's ankles, also trying not to fall? My friend. There was no way to pull them both up without first being attacked by the werewolf. I couldn't even lay down on the floor nearby without at the very least getting chewed on and being turned into a werewolf myself.

My friend told me that it wasn't worth it. I didn't care. What I became in the course of rescuing him did not matter if it served the quest itself, and if the price of moving forward was getting turned into a werewolf, then I guess that's what was going to happen. I got down on the floor and just as we'd feared got my shoulder chewed on by a werewolf while I offered my friend a hand up. It didn't even hurt, though, because that is how irrelevant it was.

I got my friend up but he was still owned by that archbastard the Final Duck, who reclaimed him and trapped him in this tiny little raggedy teddy bear thing like some kind of deal-making scam faerie phylactery. Final Duck fatal flaw: motherfucking hubris. Maybe it's fun to watch the broken-hearted little human girl wandering his carnival looking for a way to free her friend, but now I was just getting even more pissed. Everybody knew that I wasn't scared of that asshole and was fully planning to thwart his pointlessly-dickish plans, but before it had merely been the sort of sad notion that mortals get in their heads from time to time.

Now, however, I wasn't one.

I was a god damn werewolf. I was one of them now, and I was a totally free agent.

Now I belonged.

Time passed, during which I maintained my independence. I made friends, friends who were likewise kind of unused to anybody being halfway-decent and not a part of this terrible oppressive hellhole of a political system. One of my friends and informants called me around at one point to confess to me that she was also the property of the Final Duck, but that he was getting ready to sell her. She was afraid of whatever prospective owner she might end up with and asked me if I would please be the one who won her because she knew I wouldn't actually do anything with my so-called "legitimate" claim over her.

I said sure, because what the fuck nobody is buying or winning my friends.

At that point she brought out her leverage, since she'd had to have a contingency plan in case I'd said no (which, what the fuck, I was not going to do). She'd managed to steal my friend's bear, the one he'd been locked away into. While I watched, she opened up the back of her own symbolic focus thingie and stuffed him inside it, and then shut up the back.

I was thrilled.

All I had to do was win her and make it part of the terms that I also get what she's holding. It is perfectly within respectable and legitimate bounds of cleverness to do something like that because not doing it opens me up to winning her but not the actual symbol of control over her, which'd be as good as winning nothing at all. In this case, though, it would mean winning her focus and my friends.

The process of winning her freedom and my friend's was an exhausting bloody mess during which I got the rest of the global faerie community involved in this terrible sadistic shitshow of a fiefdom the Final Duck was running over here. I was perfectly willing to be the instrument of them deposing the Duck provided they gave me time to win my friends first to keep them safe from the resultant conflict. Cue exhausting bloody mess.

But I won.

I won because I was Final Boss Mode Dream Protagonist Me and I was a fucking werewolf and I was not scared of that god damn duck because this was my quest narrative and that made me the boss.

I stagger into the assembly of faeries, exhausted and bloody, and let them know that I won and they are more than welcome to go ruin the Final Duck's day and tell him it's from me. Then I went ahead and had my dramatic "so I'm gonna pass out now" moment and dropped to the floor holding the prizes that signified the freedom I'd won for my friends. Omniscient Narrator Me listened to them debate the fact that it was kind of irresponsible to let werewolves run around for any reason, and this was a perfect opportunity to get rid of me while I was pretty much defenseless.

Like I said, though, faeries respect a good quest narrative, and that is just not how you conclude a quest.

Instead a few of them picked me up, along with the symbols of my victory, and took me with them to go to war.

So you know what, Final Duck?

Bet you're sorry you fucked with me now. It's my carnival now, and my kingdom, and things are going to be different from here on out.

The moral of the story is: if you're a villain, don't send kind-hearted mortals on quests for the evulz. We will not fail for your satisfaction. Kind-hearted mortal heroes are scary scary people.
xenologer: (angel/11)
I had a dream last night that my room I had in high school was so dirty that when we cleaned it we found all these animals.

Like, there was a litter of kittens that had grown up and their mom still lived in there. There was a fox that liked to be petted but the longer I looked at it the more I realized it shouldn't like attention so much; it should be more scared. Then it started looking like the horrifying taxidermy from BadlyStuffedFoxes and I realized it probably had rabies so I should escape while it was still friendly so I got up on my loft bed.

There were a lot of mice, too. I picked up a bunch of trash and felt a stab on my knee at one point in the dream, and as it happened there were a bunch of mice living in/under it or something, and when I moved it one ran up my pant leg, panicked, and bit me. I shook it back down and the mom gather her babies and they fled and I was like O_O

Meanwhile there were more cats. One had one eye with a perpetually-dilated pupil so I was afraid it might have retinal Kellis-Amberlee. One got bitten by a really large spider so this little kitten fucking murderized that spider and another one and then was just pleased as can be again. This one spider-killing sweet affectionate little black kitten looked dark green in the sun so I named him Mr. Green and I was determined to keep him because he already would just appear out of fuckin' nowhere whenever I called "Mr. Green?" and that meant he was part of the family.

Even Noire liked Mr. Green. That meant he was the perfect cat, if even our neurotic cat-hating cat was immediately cool with him.

I love you Mr. Green. You can really fuck a spider up.
xenologer: (angel/11)
I had a dream last night.

I had a dream that I had like a little pimple or something on the bottom edge of my lower lip. One of those white-topped ones, right? So I say to myself I says, "Self, we can pop that."

(This is starting out well, right?)

So I set about this task and I realize that what I'm seeing is not actually a little film of skin over pimple innards at all.

It's the edge of a very small fingernail.

I squeeze and slowly the nail crowns and I see a whole nail bed and it turns out there's a finger in there.

I let go and it sucks back in and disappears.

Then I told my buddy (burlesque name: Gentleman Jack) about it and he laughed at me.

That was my dream.
xenologer: (Allison peeking)
I dreamed last night that I befriended a decapitated robin that had found its way onto my windowsill. I found it while I was showering, and was giving it water off the tip of my finger. It appreciated this. Being without your body is evidently a very thirsty way of existing.

I felt bad because it was nice and I'd just seen it feeding its young near the windowpane. Then it came down and its head sorta... slipped off. Maybe it was off the whole time and only then actually detached.

But I felt bad when I left, because I knew it was gonna die soon without me, and its babies would then die as well. But it wasn't mad. It just sat in my window starting to fall asleep, and watched me go.

Another weird dream, I suppose.
xenologer: (Allison peeking)
I dreamed last night that I befriended a decapitated robin that had found its way onto my windowsill. I found it while I was showering, and was giving it water off the tip of my finger. It appreciated this. Being without your body is evidently a very thirsty way of existing.

I felt bad because it was nice and I'd just seen it feeding its young near the windowpane. Then it came down and its head sorta... slipped off. Maybe it was off the whole time and only then actually detached.

But I felt bad when I left, because I knew it was gonna die soon without me, and its babies would then die as well. But it wasn't mad. It just sat in my window starting to fall asleep, and watched me go.

Another weird dream, I suppose.
xenologer: (Allison peeking)
I dreamed last night that I befriended a decapitated robin that had found its way onto my windowsill. I found it while I was showering, and was giving it water off the tip of my finger. It appreciated this. Being without your body is evidently a very thirsty way of existing.

I felt bad because it was nice and I'd just seen it feeding its young near the windowpane. Then it came down and its head sorta... slipped off. Maybe it was off the whole time and only then actually detached.

But I felt bad when I left, because I knew it was gonna die soon without me, and its babies would then die as well. But it wasn't mad. It just sat in my window starting to fall asleep, and watched me go.

Another weird dream, I suppose.

....

Oct. 3rd, 2008 09:17 pm
xenologer: (wickerman)
Last night I dreamed I ate a two headed marshmallow peep.

I think it's an ill omen, a portent of some nameless doom.

....

Oct. 3rd, 2008 09:17 pm
xenologer: (wickerman)
Last night I dreamed I ate a two headed marshmallow peep.

I think it's an ill omen, a portent of some nameless doom.

....

Oct. 3rd, 2008 09:17 pm
xenologer: (wickerman)
Last night I dreamed I ate a two headed marshmallow peep.

I think it's an ill omen, a portent of some nameless doom.
xenologer: (mad world)
My dreams last night kept ending after the appearance of a strange women.

First off, she was a midget. Probably mid-twenties, but a bit emaciated. She also ended at the waist, but not in the sense that she had no legs. She looked like her torso had been severed, ending in some ragged red stuff and the stump end of her spine. It occurs to me now that she might have been undead. She walked around braced on her hands and wobbling about awkwardly using her hands as feet.

Somehow I got it into my head that Brian was cheating on me with this woman, and woke him up berating him in my sleep about his ever-present legless midget concubine. He said something like, "Yup. Yeah, that's it," and went back to sleep.

I don't know.


When I told [livejournal.com profile] flameraven about this, she compared it to my chickencat dream, which it occurs to me I've not related.

So about a month ago I dreamed that I brought home one of those little plastic-wrapped fryer chickens from the store. This happens all the time and is in no way remarkable. What was remarkable was what happened when I got home. I realized that the chicken, still wrapped in plastic, was a cat.

This wasn't a dream transformation "suddenly my car was a hot air balloon" thing. I looked down and realized that this was a cat. All of the fur was gone. The ends of the back feet had been sawed down into terrible little amputated drumsticks. The front paws had withered down to little pointy wings. The abdominal cavity was empty, and the attached portion of the neck flopped around, flailing desperately to perceive its environment without a head.

I frantically tore the shrink-wrapping from the near-frozen chickencat, and in so doing I realized I had a dilemma. Could I save this cat? This cat was alive by some miracle, surely, but for how long? And for what? I decided it would be most merciful to kill it quickly instead of letting it languish in this way. But for the life of me I couldn't think how. What should I do, set it in the driveway and smash it with a hammer? What?!

In the end I put it in the freezer to let it freeze to death. It seemed like an appropriate choice at the time. I turned to [livejournal.com profile] flameraven where she stood in the hallway, and told her that we might be acquiring another cat (presumably if I couldn't think of a way to kill this chickencat horror). I hoped she wouldn't be angry, because we already had one cat. She laughed, relieved, and stepped aside to reveal a little orange tabby sprawled out lazily behind her. "I was wondering how to ask you the same question!"

Then we all had a good "end of the episode" shoulder laugh, and the dream was over.

Again. I DON'T KNOW.

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