Strange Things in the Kitchen, Self-Sacrifice

I have a backlog of things to post, as always, but last night I had some rather intense goings-on in my not-always-happy dreamland that I really need to get out.

I've been hitting a string of nightmare lately.  Weird, shaking, painful ones, hitting the highest point I've ever hit last night as I let myself be murdered.

So, I'm going to start with the dream I had last night that didn't involve death, but it was, uh,.... okay, here it is.

It's worth mentioning that the brother in this dream is in no way related to my irl half-brother Joe.  This was a dream-only character with zero resemblance.  Although, this is still weird as is.

I worked at a restaurant as a waitress, and my brother was a cook.


I went to take a woman her drink of wine, and recognized her from where I work irl (although I'm not sure who she was / if she actually exists / call it a dream thing).  We started talking as I poured some pepper into her table candle to enhance the scent (??).


I went back into the kitchen, which really really resembled another section of booths rather than a kitchen, to find my brother drinking on the job, already pretty far gone.


"What the fuck are you doing?" I demanded, folding the serving platter under my arm.  "You are going to get fired!"


He said nothing, sort of just observing me.


I acted on an impulse, testing the waters that I know are troubled.  I grab him by the collar with my left hand, pulling his head down to my level.  (I'm 5'1" irl and in this dream; he is well over six feet)  We gave each other a long stare.


He gave in, wrapping his arms around my waist and hoisted me into a deep kiss.  He smelled like fresh laundry.  Which is good, but as a cook, shouldn't he smell different?


I backed up, nodded, and went about my job, leaving him to his own devices.


YES.  Dream incest.  WTF.

Thank god that it was not my real brother or I'd be in counseling instead of typing this out.  If there is any symbolism in this, I think I'm missing it.  Also, I've never been a waitress.  Or put pepper into candle wax.

*suddenly tempted to try it*  o__o

Okay, onto the more exciting one.

The setting is a prison break, late at night, with heavy rain.


The prison was almost completely empty.  A group of us were trapped within, unable to escape as the entire prison ground swarmed with armed, dangerous criminals.


I was huddled into a large holding cell with five or six others, cold, scared, awaiting the worst.  There was one prisoner in particular that I knew would be looking for me, with a vengeance.


I did not know why he wanted me specifically.  I just knew that he was coming to kill me.


And he did.


Appearing through the flashes of lightning like a jagged tree's silhouette, he slumped into the cell, carrying with him a motorized, cordless circular saw.

Thank you, www.lowes.com, for powering my nightmares.


I stepped in front of everyone else, determined to protect them.  I knew it was me alone he'd come for.


Within seconds, he had me pinned to the ground, looming over me like a dark predator.  He clicked the machine on, and while aiming for elsewhere, nicked my thigh on accident, tearing it open.


I finally began to feel fear.  I scream outright in agony, feeling the blade rip at me.  I clung to a dying hope that someone was going to come to my rescue, but I knew this was it.  I had chosen this.  I was dying.


The last thing I actually feel is a huff of air from the motor across my bare belly.  When the saw actually hit my stomach, I was beyond feeling.  I was swimming dizzily in a panicked spiral, where all I could hear was the whirring blade and my own distant screaming.  I was slightly aware that my insides were being literally ripped to shreds, but it wasn't long before I swooned in fear, causing me to slowly dissolve into consciousness on the other side.


Makes my stomach hurt just thinking about it @_@

Okay, no idea where that came from.  I'm the one who laughs at chainsaws and the like as weapons.  I don't think I've ever seriously died in a dream like that, that I can remember so vividly.

But I suddenly, even if only in dreamland, understood the psychology behind living a normal life and suddenly finding courage in the face of death.

Most famous example is my favorite historic figure, Marie Antoinette.  She was a sad individual under a lot of stress, having come from her homeland of Austria to marry into French aristocracy.  Then, surprise surprise, Austria and France became enemies.  Fuck her life.

She took out a lot of sadness, I believe, in buying expensive things.  So, on the outside, she lived a shallow life without my detail, only to suddenly buck up in the face of death and accept it nobly, like a truly unconquerable, strong soul.

That's kind of how I felt, knowing I was going to die.  Sudden courage.

In real life, my wager is still me going out like a whining, scared little bitch.

I've always said I'd be the one to challenge a schoolyard gunman by making it a fist fight.

Anyway, toodles for today, I'm off to wear many layers and distract myself from the tummy area.

I am a lardass who figured out how to make pigs in a blanket and then consumed about 14 of them right before bed.  I slept for... um... probably ten or eleven hours.

Mark #2 - The Stars - Being Poor - The Graveyard - My Old Horses/Neighbors - SKOOOLLL

AKA a cool bunch of snippets!

Throughout the night, I made a huge, conscious effort to remember everything.  Everything.  So, whenever I would awake, I came up with a keyword for the dream to help me remember it.  It appears to have worked, because I actually remember more than usual.

The cool thing is, I even dreamed of writing down the keywords.  Talk about dream control.

Anyway, on to the dreams!

Jerry confronted me one day about how he knew about the party and what had happened.  I had no idea what he was talking about.


Then suddenly, unbidden, I remembered what he was talking about. It all came to me in a flash.


I had gotten drunk and had sex with our (irl) neighbor, Mark.  (not the coworker Mark.  Wow, I know a lot of Marks.)


I felt horrible, with immediate regret.


I did not get a good reading on what Jerry felt.  We can all assume it was not pleasant.  :|  *poker face*

Our neighbor Mark is an older guy, probably around 30 or so.  (For those that don't know, I'm fricken 19.)  He is a bassist in a garage-type band.  Jerry and I are on pretty friendly terms with him, cause he is a pretty cool guy.  He's got a little dog named Izzy.  Perfect conversation starter.  We see him out walking her a lot, that's usually when we see him to stop and talk to him.

But, not only does he have a lovely girlfriend and a happy-ass little dog, I don't think of him like that.

My brain probably went "Okay, okay, cheating dream, pick a person, preferably male-- AH.  MARK THE NEIGHBOR IT IS, WHEEL'O'SEX."

Guess it could have been worse.   Poor Mark the Neighbor.

I was lying with my Mom's cousin (so my first cousin? second?) and her daughter in their room beneath a huge sea of glow in the dark stars that covered all the walls and ceiling.  I felt at peace.


I know exactly how this got cranked out.  On Christmas Eve I was left alone too long with my period having just started that day, so I got rull, rull lonely.

Jerry was off with his family.  I do not get along with his father, and I think I might've had a stomachache.  Regardless, I didn't go to this awesome party that I loved last year with his family because I am a pussy who could not face his father.  (That I'm a Pussy feeling may have brought on the stomachache.)

So, I tried to go to work to talk to my coworkers.  And, uh, the only people there were new kids I barely know.

Feeling like a loser, I crawled back to my car.  In the midst of a crying/screaming/hysterical woman fit, I texted said cousin, being incredibly intrusive and asking if I could come over and crash their Christmas Eve plans.

Luckily, their Christmas Eve plan involved McDonalds and lying around barely dressed watching Tosh.0.

And Jerry and I just put glow stars up about three days ago, and I feel really peaceful looking at them.  This dream just combined warm fuzzy feeling + warm fuzzy feeling for a dose of happy.

In the mall, I saw a dress I really wanted.  When I inquired about it to a cashier, she told me it was just supposed to be a long shirt.


I looked back, and the whole damn display had changed.  (like dreams do.)


So I told her I would just take the long shirt, but found out it was $89.  I raegquit out of poorness, saying loudly to the cashier that I had better things to be spending my money on than ugly clothes.


Oh, no, my cheap brokeassery is making its way into dreams D:

I was back at one of my old houses that I have not lived in since I was seven or eight.  A man outside the house asks me if I wanted to come in, so I did.


This is a safe dream, no fears of predators or harm.  It is reflective.


I know what house this is - the house where I first found Buster.  (my first and only dog; read the last part of this post for full details)


In the dream, I got the notion that this was also where he was buried, while in reality, he is buried at a different house, because he died after we'd moved away from this one.


I procrastinated, doing other things around the house to avoid going out back like I knew I needed to.  but finally, I did.


The backyard is set up like a maze - it's over an acre of backyard, and my father used to mow it so that taller grasses would give it a maze effect.  Large stones dotted the grasses, and I found where he was buried, in dream, and sat and pondered his life and my life since.


I have not dreamed of Buster in years, and suddenly I've had two in the last month?

I think this might be me struggling to come to terms with his loss, after all these years.  It's still so painful that my brain wants me to move on, probably.

Carrying on with the past bit, on to the next one.

At the house I lived in in Tennessee right before we moved out of state (the house where Buster is actually buried), I was wandering along in the backyard like I always did.  My neighbor's horses, that I have not seen in the six years since I moved, came up to the fence like they always used to, letting me pet them.


When I left this house in reality, one of the horses was getting older, not doing so well.  But in the dream, she is as beautiful and healthy as I remember her.  I was beyond relieved to see all four of them happy, healthy, and still familiar with me.


I glance over to the neighbors on the other side of us and realize that we have not visited them since the move, even though we were so close right before the move.


This one move altered my life forever.

I was thirteen, just finished eighth grade.  My mother can't breathe in Tennessee, you see - the mold, pollen, any moisture, etc makes it impossible.  So she moved us first to New Mexico.  When she was unhappy there, we moved to Colorado, where they are now.  I myself moved back to Tennessee right when I turned 18, but that is a whole 'nother adventure.

So, I have a lot of grudges about getting moved like that.  And then getting moved again.  All the while, trying to keep my long-distance relationship with Tennessee-bound Jerry alive.

While in the end, I got Jerry and am back in Tennessee, the past still haunts me.

Okay, okay, the next dream is humorous, neeeext.

There is this brand of Vodka called Skol.

source: http://www.bartonbrands.com/

Anyone who drinks will tell you that it is the worst thing you can possibly drink.  It's super cheap - the smaller varieties even come in plastic - and people only buy it to get super drunk super fast.  Or if they are just poor.

My history with Skol is that I had an apartment party with some coworkers one night, and one of the attendants left his vodka in my fridge.  I called him up the next day like, hey, dude, there's vodka in my fridge.

He said I could keep it, so I eventually drank it all.

I've only had a couple brands of vodka, so I didn't realize the reason it was so dry/bitter/stingy was because it was the cheapest goddamn vodka in all the world.

This was also back before I knew to keep vodka in the freezer, if this puts it in perspective.

I mean, if someone left a liter in my fridge again, I'd probably still drink it (I hate waaaaste), but I know definitely not to ever get it for myself.  Cheapass vodka.

So, in the dream, I was stuffing Skol into my freezer while another coworker (who has been at my parties), Meagan, put tupperware made out of pressed condom wrappers back into my cabinets.


If there is deep symbolism in this condom wrapper/Skol/Meagan dream, I'm totally missing the mark.

That is it for me.  Finally!  Wow, I dreamed a lot.

I ate McDonalds right before bed like a real 'Murkin.  I had two McDoubles and a large fry.  O me o my.
I slept from 11 - 8 or so, but it was super choppy (that usually helps with remembering dreams.)  I was up and down all night between Jerry going to and from work (12 - 4a, wtf?) and our cats jumping on me and/or licking me.  Grr.

The Dollface / What's it like to get your vagina licked? / Invisibility

So, sadly, had a lot of random dream clips last night but only remember three.  I got woken up a LOT last night through my attempted sleeping time, and that generally makes it impossible to have long, worthwhile dreams and just leaves me with broken, short pieces.

But here they are!

I was getting ready in front of a mirror.  I had long, thick eyelashes and dark eyeliner like a doll and short, curly hair with a mini top hat.  What really fascinated me was that I was brushing bangs.  Bangs!  I have not had those since I was pre-teen.


I was fricken gorgeous, but it was still kinda weird and didn't feel like me.  I'll make a new label for dreams where I'm not myself from here on in.

Sitting in a classroom, someone opened up a discussion of, "What is oral sex like for females?"


The person asking it was male.  The first person to answer was... TA DA.  One of my ex girlfriends.  (The most recent one.  Previously referred to as the one who was extremely important to me, but childishly blocked me online and went on to rant about me in public forums.)


While she was answering, I interrupted her with the most brilliant definition I could think of.


"It's great, you know, it's warm and all.  But not nearly enough friction to get off on!  You're better off pleasing your girl some other way!"


Cue silence as this jewel of wisdom sinks in.


Ahahaa....


So, we'll just call this ex by her name, Brianna.  Tired of these 'previously referred to' bits.

So, this is her first appearance in my dreams since we stopped talking about a month and a half ago, so it's pretty strange.  Also, since I never put my mouth on her junk I think my brain was just filling in the blanks, since I know her current boyfriend has done her the favor by now.  And I doubt she feels as 'whatever' about it as I do, so yes.  Weirdness.

Probably what made me dream of her now was I just found out yesterday she's been calling Jerry/my live-in love bird constantly over the last week or so (as in, 25 missed calls), which sits even stranger with me.  The unease wormed its way into my subconscious.

Oh, oh, wait, one more.

In a place where magic of some kind is possible, a group of people are unknowingly playing a survival game.


Like the Marauder's Map of Harry Potter, some people are given a map of similar nature showing where the opponents and teammates are.


It's a group of humans struggling against another group who want to kill them.


So I have an ability that proves quite useful, although short lived: I can cast invisibility, but it only lasts for half a minute or so and does not mask sounds that I'd make.  I find out I can also use it to shield more than myself, but only get to use it on one other person simultaneously.


I do it by putting my hand over my head, revolving it in a circle a couple times, then making a fist.  As long as the fist is above us, we should be invisible, but eventually the strength will run out and I'll have to recast.


There was one room on the map that if you entered, for some reason, instead of giving an exact location next to your name, it would say "N/A" or "??"


I figured out that was the safest place to sit and think, because hell, whatever was trying to kill us was mighty powerful.


When these things first started appearing to take us out, my coworker Mark (WTF ARE YOU DOING HERE AGAIN) came up to me crying, saying he could not find his (real life) wife-to-be, Angela, and feared she was probably dead already.


I confided in him that I could not find Jerry, but I hoped for the best.


The dream end with me and one other person holed up in the magic N/A room, shivering in fear.  A group of the invaders comes in and I shield us, but they are in there so long talking I have to recast.  That split second where we were visible was so frightening I almost couldn't hold my hands steady enough to cast.


I think this was just my brain having a little fun.  It does this sometimes, gives me interesting circumstances like straight out of a good novel or movie.  Fear is the spice of dreams!  Ahahaaa.

My brain likes to decide what is good for plot and implements it.  I wonder if all writers have dreams that play out like stories.

So, yes, this is everything that I remember!

I think I slept for... uh... at least eight hours, between all the waking up.  I went to bed fairly hungry for once.