Emphasizing the sweet spot of their importance between the reality of what dreams are, or may be, and the deep meaning that they simply do not have, the woo side, is a difficult line to toe. I repeat, ad nauseam, the distinction as I cannot express properly their impact. They are the unsung, the tossed aside, thoughts running as processes in the background of my mind brought to the forefront with no inhibition, no distraction. They can illuminate these thoughts and feelings, they can open pathways to more thinking. All the same, they do not have any hidden meaning.

I’ve wanted to make some of my own artwork the last three days but have been unable to. Oh well, here are some Fallout screenshots.

The most recent seemed to be a long dream with some varying story, but primarily focused on partaking in and then helping with marching band, specifically from my high school. Although I was aware in it that I would know very few people given that I am 30whatever, the band teacher was at least the same. He is, in reality, so it seemed that knowing this transferred over into whatever universe this took place in. I’m not particularly interested in delving into any details surrounding this, but rather the small side story.

Memory of the dream is a bit shaky at this point, and I’m still uncertain about the voice I want to use here. What I do know, and can write on, is that I was involved with a leftist group who were lobbying against Elon Musk. I don’t even think the reason would matter if I remembered it, he’s a real life villain and of course would be in this dream as well. Whether he was out there kicking puppies (he wasn’t) or creating some garbage shoes with soles cast in revolutionary new plastic for the fan boys (this one), it didn’t matter. We had crossed paths and I had to admit I was interested in whatever this new technology was, so we spent time talking. He seemed smug, and well aware of the fact that I was risking my position just to enjoy his new shoes.

Musk was also not much taller than me, which after a search today I know is wildly incorrect. Apparently he is over six feet tall, whereas in my dream he couldn’t have been taller than 5'6". It made him far more approachable, and the dream version of myself had some degree of attraction to him and openness to the discussion we’d have.

The other thing aside from these shoes was a neat, technology-laden hoodie. It wasn’t really my color, being primarily brilliant white, but had some little neon bits inside it and probably had some computer. I can’t say I remember that, because it was all about those damn shoes. As mentioned, they’d been cast in Revolutionary Flexible Plastic (not new, not revolutionary), and much like the hoodie were not my color. They were, at least, tennis shoes so I would wear them, but they were a ghastly bold green. Not even neon this time, just eye-searingly-bright green for the sake of it… and the casting process left them extremely unbalanced. I had sat down sometime during our conversation on a sidewalk and was contemplating magically pulling out a knife to even out the bottom as the flashing on the cast was just that terrible. I offered some critique on fixing this before they went live to the fanbase, as it’s not like the guy doesn’t have enough money to put into a better process and product finishing.

It was about this time that we’d found our way back into a crowd of the people I came in with. A lot of yelling about money, and what a ripoff this new product was, took place. I woke up then, although the dream continued back toward band following my return to slumber. Fortunately, the shoes didn’t stay with me.

I hope they never appear.

A cursory glance at Musk’s twitter is also just…maddening. What an absolute blowhard.

new balance yeezy foam things hastily mouse-painted over because that’s as much effort as I’m giving to this stupid dream idea. Also lowkey if you find this and make awful shoes you owe me money. I’ll take $10k. Not a lot to you, will do me good.

The dreaming from the night before delves back into things I’d rather not. I’ve pulled up some of this before, and I am hesitant to detail it heavily, but… maybe.

I regularly dream about the tiny town I spent most of my childhood in. Although I’m a whole Illinoisan, spending 13–14 years in central WI arguably makes me an honorary cheesehead. As time goes on and I spend more of my life back in IL, I find the FIB taking over…as it should, really.

The dreams of this tiny town have changed over the years. Taking current events and experiences into these ever-changing realms seems to create new environments…and processing recurring thoughts about events since I’ve been back there — there was a period of about 8 years wherein I hadn’t gone to that place, and the return was following my great grandma’s passing in late 2014 (which also was the start of 8 years of loss in my life, but that’s for another time). Truthfully, I don’t remember what the Other content of the dreams in that place were prior to that, but afterward it involved a lot of going back to her house. Often there were others who had passed there, and it was almost always peaceful to spend time with those folks again, with the exception of the dream wherein her husband’s face was melting. I suppose I remember that one since it was actually a nightmare. After helping family move from that town, the dreams have been based on those experiences, still primarily focusing on my great grandma(and then grandma)’s home, but other houses have shown up as well.

The capitalization of Other indicates a common theme within dreams of this town, and there was, and is. I actually did mention this one previously here, and in more detail than I remember. As written, the dreams with this teacher evolved over time from trying to contact him — and having him ignore me — through him chasing me down with intent to harm me, to me questioning him, through sexual dreams, and that is kind of where we’re at now. There is almost always an undertone of me still wanting to ask him questions, but this sort of acceptance of sexual and/or romantic interaction tends to be a primary focus.

It doesn’t really indicate how I feel in reality, rather just a means of processing the events and great deal of theorizing and in a way, taking back something of mine. I am also very uninhibited in my dreams and am far more sexual a person than in reality, often using that sexuality to get out of bad situations. Less an exchange of goods for freedom, more “I’d rather not have this nightmare so why don’t I fuck the person trying to kill me instead?” It works, I guess, and leaves me with some fantasy fuel for my nightly daydreaming — a ritual required to actually take my mind off my real-life anxieties and focus on some fake world instead. I’d much rather write about where that’s led me in a post-apocalyptic world surrounding some idyllic city, an island of respite in an ocean of death and devastation, although then we’d be talking about the mutating faces again.

I have a weird relationship with eyes.

Wow look, I did draw something for this article. Sorry. It’s spoopy.

I would 1) rather talk about this dream and the story it spawned 2) largely prefer to set this picture on fire and pretend it literally never happened.

So this dream wasn’t really any different than the dreams about that city and teacher in particular have been. The world was falling apart, I was in that school, interacted with that individual in a romantic manner.

Which, I’m reminding you, the individual in question definitely had an inappropriate relationship with me as a child and may have been grooming me in some romantic/sexual direction. He is gross. In the waking world, thinking about it is gross. That’s all.

Of interest was how damning the situation around the school at that time was. There were some pretty terrible storms coming in, and as my dreams tend to take reality and twist it into something massive and scary (I am used to it), one of the storms was scarier than the rest. Its clouds rolled in under a typical grey sky, dark and brooding, boiling and forming funnels at the fingertips of what would become this incredibly enormous, terrifying figure. She spoke to me, taunting me, expressing her desire to destroy everything. I yelled at her, although I don’t remember what I said, just that I demanded more than empty threats, requesting her prowess on full display.

That’s what I ought to have drawn, but I don’t believe I could capture her scale and terror.

She showed me her face then, another twisted visage, while her grotesquely long fingers and talons curled around the other clouds inhabiting her skyscape. It may have been her body, or her eyes, but something shone in a mystical purple, highlighting the darker-than-black blues composing the other parts of her. She mocked me. She had every right to. Quickly, however, she moved on, noting that she would be back and she would leave devastation in her wake.

Returning to the halls wherein this groomer teacher was hiding, I had to note how dark everything was, and yet how long the shadows were that inhabited that darkness. Strange. Dark, deep, swampy teals filled those halls, driven away only from the light of his classroom. I do not remember if we discussed much of anything, or simply intertwined.

The content of the dream otherwise is lost to me, and my memory beyond this point is that the demon in the clouds returned, tearing the building apart, setting upon us every single bit of destruction she promised.

She’s kind of my hero.

So anyway here’s a real storm that rolled through a couple weeks ago. We’re not talking about that disgraced tree right now. Colors modified.

Three nights ago offered up something far more fantastical. Although I think of it now as a post-apocalyptic world, most dreams could be described as such and it is probably incorrect. The realms themselves are almost always in the throes of dastardly creatures or weather, but they strike a balance instead of suggesting anything world-ending. Still, there was some implication of the world being vastly different than what it used to be.

The location was entirely new, occupying a significant landmass with an almost ‘World’-like location that had been unused for some time. Theme park kind of ‘World,’ really, although many of the buildings occupying this space seemed sweets-themed. Of note was a large factory with delightfully pink walls and a darker, richer tone of pink of shingling for its roof. It was somewhat reminiscent of, say, Dunkin, or Baskin Robbins. Tasty pinks. It made me happy seeing it, although its size was a bit daunting. It had a colorful sign somewhere along its length with a name on it — I don’t recall what it said.

There was otherwise a large store in the ‘middle’ of the area. Inside it was a mutation of a number of department stores, although it was not set up to function given whatever had happened with the world. It was the goal of the peoples in this area to set it back up, and we did manage to do so by the end of the dream. Surrounding this building were a myriad of different biomes, ranging from a deep lake and its beach, to a forest nearer the pink building, to a swamp off to another side. The swamp was particularly beautiful, teeming with life and beautiful flora.

An inner political struggle was happening as well, with one fellow being the ‘face’ of the location, while a board of people worked behind him as those really in charge. He was, however, of interest to me. Although decidedly not whatever “my type” is — my type doesn’t exist, alternately listen to this — he struck me as charismatic and beautiful.

I had been sent there after trying to break into someone’s home with a small crew of people. What we were doing I don’t remember, just that we’d gotten in and the individual who had the house was trying to get in to stop us, or kill us, or whatever. He had cats, that’s what I know. So we ended up in this World place, doing building-related labor. Desirable, I suppose, especially in any world-changing scenario.

While working, another element came into play. Something about changing into other creatures? animals? mythical things? I quickly found myself enjoying the lake and its beach, swimming in the depths of the water as…a shark. Hardly an animal I ever give much thought to, aside from passing wonderment at how phenomenal they are, but I was one for a bit, sliding past the other creatures in the water. It was within these dives that I found myself something of a partner, another transformed person as an animal.

It was the face of the location. We had intermingled in the water, but it developed further one night during some party in a diner-turned-bar. One room to the side was designated as a fun room where many different games could be set up and played. During that night it was strange, and difficult to explain, but it could probably have been changed for card games, or the more preferred tabletop sorts. The setup then was odd, with stands full of random objects to be swung around, and things to hit, perhaps? There was a task list and a small group of us was playing at the time. I was on a team with the man in question, and figured out what the clues on the task list were suggesting sooner than he did. I remember grabbing some metal bar with a bizarre handle that would be inadequate for much of anything and swatting at targets. Later he picked something up that was obviously a goofy plastic toy, but was given a name implying its use as a sexual, insertable object. The fist of something, I think.

We were all a number of drinks in, but our flirting peaked at about that point and I believe we retired to some other room. Whether or not it was just us or there was discussion of including some of the other players is hard to say. I recall it being somewhat uncomfortable, so it is likely we were too close to others to enjoy private time and the debate was about making it a more public ordeal. I wanted him though.

In the waking world I found him somewhat reminiscent of Dominic Mafham, specifically in his more disheveled role of Dr Betruger in Doom Annihilation. We don’t have time to unpack that one in all its glory, and this is about dreams and not my unending love for this movie that everyone else seems to hate. Nor do we have time to get into why I would at all find an antagonist attractive. Anyway.

There was a heavy implication that our relationship developed following the drunken party night of slapping stuff with things. Visits in the lake as other creatures were deeply, and oddly, romantic, and it was one night where I was an otter when I overheard his discussion with members of the board about how things needed to change. I wasn’t important in the overall scheme of things and it would look improper for him to be involved with me. Whatever the one member of the board was talking about created a fear within me that my life was in trouble, and I had to try to escape.

Whether my observance of the area following this was in human form or not is unclear. I saw the lake as the night faded, the beach shimmering against the light of the moon, then the forest in an in-between moment at dawn. The swamp was illuminated with the first rays of the sun, its brilliant colors painting a gorgeous picture with a tinge of gold. For a moment, there was this desire that the world would increase in size, doubling. Everything shifted then, a glimpse of a graph as everything loaded back in. I headed toward the store we’d built.

I am not sure where that would have gone from there. I woke up as I was ducking out of sight of anyone important.

I dunno, here’s another image break.

The consistence of finding pleasant company over the past few nights has marked my dreams, an odd note jotted with an unusually colored pen. Perhaps purple. Pink. Green. All three. As deviance from the typical dream, running from something terrible, finding solace, if only for a moment, is a peaceful thing. While I wish the company I’d kept in these dreams was better in most of the cases, it still says…something.

A dream interpreter could find all sorts of fun things to pull out of this. Not a single one of them would be correct: dream interpretation is garbage. The reality is that these unsung worries finally had a chance to appear with no distractions. Changing worlds, missing things I once enjoyed, missing the company I haven’t kept in ages, bizarre smug men making a brief appearance, abusers weathering the storms, insecurity…so much insecurity, all the time, getting a bit too involved into theme parks (digitally) as escapism, whatever the hell the shark thing was about… I am anxious and depressed, I find comfort in distractions and escapism from the real world as it falls apart, and from whatever chemical nonsense is happening in my brain at all times — it dulls the world.

I am left with these dreams of terrifying events, worlds tearing apart at the seams, of all of my anxieties realized in preposterous portrayals. I am also left with fantastical environments that are massive and gorgeous beyond reality. Gods in the clouds ready to strike me down at a moment’s notice. The occasional companionship of someone who isn’t terrible or unattainable, if only briefly.

It is notable to me that the dreams had that last bit in common, although I admit I can only really appreciate the one with the saccharine world.

As for now, it is late, and time to delve into another horrifying world of nightmares. Maybe, just maybe, something nice will come to me.



Someone told me I was a good writer, so now I’m proving…something. Tend to one’s own flame, and do not extinguish the flames of others.

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Someone told me I was a good writer, so now I’m proving…something. Tend to one’s own flame, and do not extinguish the flames of others.