Flurid Press Militia

One of the things that has always fascinated me it the geography and architecture of my dreams. As would be expected of dreams, the buildings are always mad of odd forms and the features of both are usually greatly exaggerated from their real life counterparts.

Today I got a look at the continuing evolution of my apartment in dream world. It consisted of four rooms, a bedroom connected to three other rooms via a long hallway. One of the features that has been consistent in my dream apartments recently has been an incredible emphasis on windows all over the place, usually having entire outer walls made of glass, creating a nice, open, and spacious effect. Today however, these windows were replaced with plastic sheeting. Maybe we recently had a hailstorm in dreamtown, who knows.

This wasn't a problem as I walked the now sheeted in hallway from my bedroom to the main room, whereupon I found it filled with birds and bugs, which were coming in through a large number of holes that had been torn in the screens and plastic sheets that looked out the back towards my patio and the insanely large valley that my dream house has over looked for a long time now. Angered at the presence of these animals in my room when they clearly should be outside, I resolved that I would go to Dream Home Depot and get some nicer sheeting and a new screen door and finally replace all of this broken shit.

As I walked around outside, I looked at some of the other buildings nearby mine in dreamtown, wondering if maybe it was time to just move to a new place. I pondered over this and worried about how much other places would cost as I opened the door to my apartment complex, taking a look at the poster on the front door that encouraged children to tell their parents about how cool these apartments are, possibly as a way to add pressure to any possible lessees by infecting their kids with the idea that this place was cool.

I did think about it as I entered the nice, Edwardian decorated, hardwood outer hallway and opened my door, and how this place wasn't so bad. Maybe I could just finally give in and move my stuff from the bedroom to the nice, solid walled room at the entrance of my apartment. As I opened the door I remembered why I hadn't earlier. The room already contained some furniture, a shelve full of books and a desk, and, the most prominent reminder of why I couldn't move in there, that fucking grey cat.

I had no issues with the cat, it was a nice cat, but it reminded me that there was a long stairway that led to a basement door that the landlord had access too, since the basement was a long series of tunnels that led to every apartment as well as some other spots, so moving to that room meant that I would always have to worry about the landlord coming and going, as well as his cat just wandering around coming and going as it pleased.

I woke up at about this point.

soless posting about dreams makes me want to log the one I just had, as it was very strange.

( Lift the veil to read on... )

Thirteen hours of sleep last night. Thirteen. I really need to force myself out of bed, because this is just unacceptable, especially now that I am sleeping for more than 6 hours a night (day, really) after work. Though it did give me one of the most bizarre and random dreams I had had in a while.

The first portion of it was a standard "oh shit, it's exam time" where I was worried about my grades, but the day before the last day of my exams I couldn't remember what exams I had left, and in the process of finding this out I found that I had not been taking one of my classes, and hadn't noticed until the end of the semester. It's a bit early for me to be having these anxious about school dreams, so it was a bit more frustrating than it sounds.

The second portion is where things got weird, a third person dream (which are always nice, not having to personally feel the drama) where I was watching a family of five, two older daughters and a younger son. The father was an overprotective lawyer who ruled with an iron fist over his household, his wife absolutely hated him but could never consciously show it (though she did so quite a lot unconsciously) and constantly punished herself whenever she felt she had crossed him. The character the dream focused on the most was the oldest daughter, a high school, fairly attractive, and her constant struggle to act somewhat rebelliously. It went through a couple days of their life, eventually ending up with a scene at the fathers high-rise lawyers office where he was getting the beat down by a client who disliked how he lawyers things and was threatening to go to another firm. He responded to this by breaking open his shirt with his pecs, and then shooting the client in the face. All this while the James Bond music played in the background. Turns out that the lawyer was James Bond, and the client was a terrorist. At this point I believe my mind became so confused it had me go help one of the kids I knew from high school dig up watermelons from underneath a pile of carpet (where they had grown), at the top of a 100 foot tall tower.

I'm sure it all has some sort of symbolism.