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Writer's pictureThad McKraken

Yacht of the Dead



4/9/2024 –


I don’t remember what happens leading up to this, but here I’m leaving an underground bar and as I head up the stairs on the way out, I’m trashing the sleazy pot dealer I was hanging out with to his face. Just savagely talking shit to him, while yelling and making a scene. When I hit the city streets these 2 hovering magickal entities made out of light start following to protect me and I’m like:


“Yeah you know, not a bad call because that guy and his friends might try to jump me after that savage verbal thrashing.”


Then shit gets weird and rather than wandering through the city streets I’m wandering through what seems like a mutating surrealist painting of the city streets. Very cool.



In the next scenario I’m hanging with a different friend at a rockin’ party and he asks if I can leave to do him a favor. We do and my god, it is an incredibly long walk from the party to whatever this favor is. Then when we finally get there, the favor is apparently that he’s moving out of his old apartment, doesn’t entirely trust his landlord, and wants a witness to verify the condition of his place in case there’s a dispute. Ok then. We arrive and it’s at what seems like an elementary school and I am confused by the whole endeavor, particularly because there were seemingly other people who could have done this for him just hanging out.


What I do know is that now I’m walking back home without him and he calls me. We chat for a bit and at the end of our conversation I’m like:


“Could you, you know, come pick me up and give me a ride home or at least to a bus stop?”


There is dead silence when I make this request. Truth: I don’t know this person that well in the waking world but my guess would be that he’s a bit on the selfish side. That’s the vibe I’m getting from all of this.


Later on in the night I’ve made amends with the sleazy pot dealer dude again. We’re out partying somewhere and he’s driving us home in the sun, and also we’re in Vancouver, Canada. We’re talking about how Vancouver is even more snooty and inaccessible than Seattle these days when he hits the smaller neighborhoods. Holy shit, he seemed fine but now he’s obviously way too intoxicated to drive. We almost drive off the road multiple times and my brother and I are trying to convince him to let me take the wheel when the dream ends.


4/10/2024 –


An amazingly extended dream sequence where I’m invited to hang out on this exclusive trip on a super yacht. I have no idea how I got invited to go on this thing or why but the whole trip has the exact creepy wealth inequality vibes you would expect in the waking world. There’s just this air of condescension from the people who own the yacht that they are doing me and a few of the other non-rich folks this enormous favor by letting me come on this excursion with them.


I gotta be honest, this super yacht trip is mostly fairly bland and I’m mainly just wondering what I’m doing here and why. At one point a group of celebrity sportscaster women stop by and comment on my fit. They are very complimentary and I must confess I am wearing some choice multi-colored kicks. The most interesting thing that happens by far is that this guy I knew from the Seattle metal scene who died years ago comes out from some basement compartment area and says what’s up.

I’m immediately like:


“Uhhh, aren’t you dead?”


He doesn’t really respond but I continue to ask him what he’s been into and he tells me he’s still working on various music projects. The most interesting aspect of this is that I had just been contemplating how in the prior week, dead people showing up in my dreams was a continual theme and this seems to be a direct response to this area of contemplation. You’d think a dead person showing up at the yacht party would make me go lucid but nope.


In fact, later in the evening I run into a tall blonde woman in a fancy dress and mention how I ran into this now deceased old acquaintance and in chatting with her I realize that she has no idea he’s died. Now I’m in the awkward position of having to be the one to break the news to her that the guy has passed. For some reason, my way of doing this is looking up the story about his death on the internet. He was a minorly successful musician so there was a decent amount of internet chatter about his untimely passing years back, so I go to my phone to pull up an article about it. This is my way of giving her the news.


I manage to find an article and leave the tab open on my phone, but when I find the woman it’s a now a completely different woman and the tab is gone. As I go to look at my phone to search for it again I think to myself:


“Wait a minute. I can never pin down things on my phone in these sort of situations.”


And yet, this doesn’t make me go lucid, which is ridiculous. A part of me knows I’m not going to be able to find the answer on my phone because I’m dreaming and yet I still can’t put it together.

What else? At one point I’m on shore and I see these ridiculously cartoonish rich white guys wearing these exaggerated muscle suits engaging in an action sequence I can’t explain. Like, they’re jumping into action onto this other, much smaller yacht and yet I have no idea what they’re actually doing. Instead I think to myself:


“Oh yeah, I’m in one of those dark comedy films about the super rich made by that foreign director dude that I’ve still never watched.”


I had to look it up, and Triangle of Sadness was the film I was contemplating in the dream and yep, I absolutely haven’t seen that one. Oh, and it does apparently involve a yacht trip, which I absolutely didn’t know.


What else? Not much other than that there was a profound, pleasant feeling to the whole thing that I was in fact inhabiting the realm of the dead. That’s where I go at night and I need to contemplate this more deeply moving forward.  


4/11/2024 –


I’m presented with this scenario where a group of people are either sledding, sliding, or skiing down this extended slope. It’s hard to tell which but there’s a flattened section in the middle of this slide mountain where all these characters are hanging out and this is part of the exercise. You’re supposed to crew up at this stopping point to prepare for the rest of the descent.


Now I’m shown that you can either choose who you’re going to take at the top of the mountain, spontaneously make the choice in the middle, or choose at the bottom. Some people like to choose at the top, some like to choose at the bottom, some on the fly in the middle. Of course by conventional logic this makes no sense as how could you choose who you want to slide with after you’ve already slid. Conversely, how could you choose before you’d even met them at the midway point? It’s all a commentary on existing outside of time but a bit of a clunky one I must confess.


In the next sitch I’m living in this house with all these other people, which goes on for quite some time and fails to commit to memory. What I do recall is at one point, a large group of us are sitting out on this large wood paneled sun room by a lake. We’re just enjoying the view as the light rays bathe us through the windows but all of a sudden the water starts spastically splashing against the glass. Then, seemingly seized by the water, the whole sun room starts rocketing around the lake like a speed boat. I sort of look around the room at all the other peeps like:


“Does anyone else find this weird?”



They do seem to be slightly freaking out as well but there’s no time to dwell as the next thing I know I’m waking up in this white walled bedroom in a white bed surrounded by several women also dressed in all white. They wake me up and pull me into another room where I realize I’m in the midst of this ridiculous reality show competition thing. I’m getting pulled into the next event and what the fuck are we doing exactly? We’re using these weird washing machine devices in an assembly line fashion and I get the distinct inner impression that this is like making license plates in prison. I have no idea how I get this vibe but the idea is to churn out as much product as possible in a set amount of time and we’re competing against one another in teams. I am not happy about this situation at all. Not one bit.


One other excursion. Here I’m infiltrating some underground structure in a Fallout universe with an unidentified compatriot and Giannis Antetokounmpo. We head out and I quickly lose track of them in a way that doesn’t make any sense. Like, where the fuck could they have gotten off to so soon after we started? I go to find the answer which leads me down all these excellent looking green metallic corridors before I find the secret room they’ve holed up in.


When I do, I’m realizing they’re chilling with this round faced I’d say late 50’s looking black guy in full chef’s regalia. All white with the smoke poof white hat and everything. Huh? They’ve clearly been cooking and have a couple of samples for me to test out, one which is a very rare looking small thin cut of steak in a white paper cup. I mean it looks great but what the fuck? That’s why we came down here? This all makes me in dream contemplate how there are in fact food crafting options in Fallout 4, something that I will never even pretend to understand. Different strokes for different folks. I believe that’s the point.  







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