11/24/2023 -
I'm at the window of a customer service type interface that's sort of like a movie box office in a way but with a longer, thinner, plexiglass window. It feels like a bank as far as I can tell and I basically just need cash so the guy behind the thin widow interface responds:
"Oh, no problem."
And he summons me back into the employee area. It's at this point that I'm noticing how skinny, bald, and weird looking a white dude he is, mainly because he's telling me I can swipe my card on his head. Yep, yep, it definitely looks like this bro had surgery and some type of chip reader installed into his goddamn skull. And yet, none of this seems odd to me as I easily complete the transaction.
None of it seems odd to me as I wake up as well because you know, tech bros are already working on putting smart phones in people's skulls and shit. It's already a thing but Jesus, that'd be a particularly disturbing outcome. Probably in my lifetime I suppose.
In dreamville it's the back-in-my-old-basement-apartment thing once again. My wife has dragged me back here and I'm trying to explain to her that we're technically trespassing. We've still left some of our junk behind and I'm surprised that I still haven't cleaned out the multiple interconnected VCR's I used to use to copy tapes.
Lord, I'd nearly forgotten about those and in the dream state I'm shocked I hadn't taken these already. This is funny because in a waking state I realize that I did save one of my old VCR's when we moved out of there, and we've used it a total of once. I own the original Star Wars without the Lucas added CGI stuff on VHS and that was legit the only time we've used the tape player in nearly a decade. I don't even have the rest of the original trilogy, just the first one. What a metaphor about why it's important to let things go.
Eventually there's a knock on the door and we're both freaking out briefly but when I answer it I realize that it's this older slightly bigger up black woman dressed up in a fancy purple dress and she's there on behalf of a religious movement of some variety. I look out in the yard and I can see all these thin older black guys calmly doing what looks like Tai Chi or Yoga. It seems like something I might support but you can tell just from the vibes that this chick is a proselytizing nut job so I'm getting rid of her as painlessly as possible. On the other hand she doesn't care that we're here, which was the real concern.
The bonkers thing is that I have a ton of dreams for the rest of the night but I do not remember any of the details at all. What I do remember is that they all involved calculatedly shopping. All these stories tied together by the concept of searching for the perfect items and it all felt sort of like a video game where all these perspectives were moving around this floating circular target icon to locate the perfect products for their quests. I was genuinely baffled that I couldn't recall many details of this but when I woke up it was like, oh yeah, Black Friday. Maybe I don't want to remember any of that, I was just picking up vibes.
11/25/2023 -
A near instantaneous but surprisingly complicated vision. A man has made a popular documentary about another man, who I get the impression is a writer. What's being communicated though is that after the success of the documentary, the subject of the documentary is taking legal action against the filmmaker. What I'm seeing is the fragmented mind of the filmmaker and he's this bald white guy with glasses who sort of looks like professor X. The way his entire consciousness is coming to pieces in various perilous obsessive rabbit holes is arty and cool to look at but sort of disturbing at the same time. You can tell there's something off with his singular obsession with the topic.
Then you see the writer, or subject bringing the lawsuit. Honestly, the dude seems particularly uptight and square. This is where it gets interesting. You can see from the art-o-graphic that the filmmaker is in fact a bit unhinged and borderline obsessed with his subject, but is his obsession dangerous or is the writer dude just being sort of a dick? All this ambiguous info penetrates my mind in a series of seconds.
Other than that though, it's the second consecutive night with lackluster dream recall. At one point I'm navigating my way south in the fictional Greenwood neighborhood I've created when I realize I've gone full parkour. I'm now navigating my way on top of this two story apartment building feeling like Spider Man and wondering what the fuck is going on. The strangeness of the experience nearly leads me to lucidity but no dice.
At another point I'm driving a black retro muscle car and I hit the highway via a city onramp, and the road is this unreal expanse of ridiculously awesome psychedelic sunset art. It's like I'm taking an onramp to a peyote water color universe but that's it. That's all I remember.
11/26/2023 -
A dream where I'm in the passenger seat. I've been hanging out with a friend and we've stayed up all night, now we're embarking on a new adventure. My job knows I took a vacation day today right? I'd better send a reminder e-mail but I can't get my phone to work. Shocker.
Now a vision of this Real Housewives type reality show, except it seemingly takes place in the past because both of the pretty blonde women involved have the requisite poofy hair. I believe one of them is wearing spandex and it once again has the visual aesthetic of dated video recording tech, which is once again a cool effect. Now I'm in a press conference related to this public spectacle and one of the poofy haired blonde women steps up to the microphone, then storms off without saying a word. I grab her with my arm as she tries to dash off past the press.
"Do you know what the purpose to this is?"
I'm trying to stop her from making a mistake but I also instantly realize that I shouldn't have put my hands on her like I did and instantly apologize.
The next thing I remember is browsing through a fantastically large rack of magazines in one of those news stand specialty joints that only sort of exist at this point. Wow they have a lot of bitchin' guitar magazines and as I browse down the rack to the right, I'm seeing all these fantastical psychedelic alt weeklies.
At this point in the dream I realize that these are coming from my dreams. Except that actually, my dreams inspired the idea for these fictional publications accidentally via AI art. The realization that what I'm looking at is something that now exists in my dreams because another dream accidentally commissioned its creation via a robot on the other side of reality is in fact sufficiently mind blowing, as one would expect it to be.
Now I have a vision. It's a suburban white people house with white walls and brown doorway frames. The non-descript father and mother inform the pimply faced skinny blonde teenage boy that he's going to have to invade the mind of his great aunt. They know it's an odd request and he seems slightly uneasy with the prospect but you can also tell by the look on his face that he's in. If that's what it takes, you know.
Also, while you're here, do you like psychedelic industrial noise rock? Of course you do!
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