5/15/2024 –
For hours after I first fall asleep I’m going through this liminal state exercise where I’m taking control of these phantom heads, then I’m constructing these sparsely populated rooms that are associated with these heads. All of this has a bit of a green glow like an old school computer monitor.
Eventually I’m in one of these green glow computer monitor rooms and there’s a woman interviewing me. I was apparently closely associated with some sort of scandal and the invisible woman interviewing me wants deets. Unfortunately what I have to tell her is:
“You would think I’d have some great insight here but the way people present themselves vs. who they are as actual people if often quite different. Not only that but from your perspective you sort of see what you want to see, you know? I knew both of these people but nothing ever seemed weird or interesting. I wish I had something for you but I genuinely don’t.”
I also can’t remember this person’s name as chatting with this lady but when I pull out of a sleep state I do. It’s Phil Hartmann and his wife did in fact murder him. Hmmm.
The next thing I know I’m waking up the morning after a party at my place and it’s a combination of my current townhouse and the “new place” I’ve created for myself on the astral plane. As I’m getting out of bed, I’m realizing that I’m slightly hungover and a bunch of peeps apparently slept over. This turns into like a morning after party where we’re all sitting outside in my back yard. Man, this is nice. Why the hell don’t I hang out here more often?
In fact, there’s some new construction off to the one side of the yard that I haven’t even seen yet. As I drive to a part of the city I haven’t been to in years and notice how different it all seems with all the new construction, the metaphor seems apt. This shit’s all happening “right in my backyard” as it were.
5/16/2024 –
I’m in a sci fi/fantasy city. Sort of like a Star Wars city with more pastels. Not a bad way of looking at it. Anyway, I’m talking to this woman with long black hair in an odd white princess Leia-y outfit on a white bridge in front of a freaky looking skyscraper in front of what seems like a man made river.
“Well, thanks for not selling me out.”
She tells me.
“Oh, I did. There’s an investigator back there.”
I respond as I point to a location about 100 feet behind me to the right.
That’s where the dream cuts out. In the next scenario, I’m setting up for a show at a small DIY type venue when a massive protest breaks out.
“Fuck.”
I think to myself. We’ve now got to get the gear that we just loaded in out of this place. As I go to the backstage area to do this, there’s this main instigator protest dude starting shit in the exact back room. He throws a Molotov cocktail into a trash can and I grab him by the back of the neck and shove his face in the can a few inches from the flames.
“Hey, dipshit. I agree with your protest. I’m on your side here. But I’m an artist and if you trash the tools I use to make my art, then what good am I to the cause?”
I stop the fire but we now up the frantic pace at which we’re trying to get the f out of d. We get one load back to our souped-up hot rod El Camino in the parking garage.
Then when we’re getting out the next load of gear there’s a guy in the front seat trying to hotwire the thing.
“Duuuude. What the fuck are you doing? I have the fucking keys. I’ll drive you out of here.”
I shake them in front of his face and he seems legitimately surprised by this revelation. That’s where the dream cuts out.
5/17/2024 –
This dream starts out in quite dramatic fashion. There’s a group of synthetic humans and the large wooden mansion we’re staying in is under attack. We’re all holed up in an upstairs conference room but there’s a problem. We can’t fight back. It’s not in our programming.
Someone in our group knows a possible solution. She’s aware of a mod she can install on me that should make it so I can in fact use violence. Now there’s this incredibly overly dramatic sequence where the people are trying to knock down the door to the room we’re in and she’s all:
“I’m downloading the files as quickly as I can.”
The computer download bars are racing against the sound of the door being pummeled down. Of course we succeed at the last minute though. The update downloads itself into me and we’re good. I manage to take out the would be attackers but this is all a blur.
The next thing I know though, I’m hanging around with the many people who live in this mansion. I’m getting them alone in situations where no one else is around on an unconscious level, then it’s like something else takes control of me and I murder them in cold blood, for no real reason. Each time it’s the same, it’s like my consciousness cuts out with me starting to go through the motions of killing them, then fades.
I kill at least 3 or 4 of them and one is Todd Howard, who’s presented as the tech bro who created the program that’s now going to murder his cocky ass. It’s sort of played as a feel good comeuppance killing in a sick way.
The other thing is, I seem to be getting away with these killings. In fact, the whole thing ends with me standing in a sun drenched wood paneled living room area while rocking back and forth with a maniacally creepy look on my face with other people still contemplating who the killer might be in the adjacent dining room. That’s where the scene pulls out with the internal revelation that the program I installed to fight of the attackers was the “Pure Evil Mode” mod and it’s like:
“That’s a wrap bro.”
The whole thing was a movie and everyone seems pleased with my performance. I do feel like I nailed the utterly insane look on my face while rocking back and forth at the end. Terrifyingly demented for sure. My commentary is:
“The special effects people are really doing the heavy lifting here.”
Which explains why I only initiated the violence, then shit cut out from my perspective. Fascinating.
Later in the night I am having a conversation with Todd Howard in his bedroom. I have absolutely no idea why this is happening and the whole time I’m chatting with him I’m confused. He genuinely just seems to be rambling about whatever’s going through his head and the conversation doesn’t seem to be catered around me at all. I’m just like:
“Uhhh, sure dude.”
It’s not like I’m unamused by his antics either. Only one other remembrance of note. I’m in the kitchen eating with family when a cover or Space Truckin’ comes on the stereo. Since I was just working on a cover of the same song I think this is very synchronous. I like the stoner blues space disco vibes we’re throwing down but this laid back blissed out THC bossa nova version with the smooth operator woman vocalist also plays. Fine work with all that.
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