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I dreamt I lived in a country where it snowed 10 weeks a year. maybe more. for the rest of the year the snow just lay there '-) and it was so fine. so good. I not only survived, I actually enjoyed living there #-) suppose it was so incredibly cold you stopped noticig after a while. also, don't know wth is with gender switch in dreams, but this time I was definitely male. walking topless in winter... yes, sure. ~ have met a third cousin of mine. he's a really cute and all around nice guy. he trains a junior tennis team, sings opera, speaks half a dozen languages, loves swimming and dancing. he resides in Sweden but will stay here till 26.07.09. and he looks more like an Israeli than most of us '-) aw, exotic family. ~ I still am a terrible snob when it comes to writing/reading, and a grammar Nazi. somebody shoot me already #-( ~ and last night, dear diary, we went to see Public Enemies. ( deary me. )~ I really, really should be writing me bingo. instead I grumble about text formatting and contemplate not-quite-natural things to do to Tony. bad fan, no... nothing, really. *headdesk* Tags: dream, rl, tfs, videogasm
mood:  amused
sound: Unheilig - Herz aus Eis
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Israeli bureaucratic machine is sloooooooooow. e.g., in an office stuffed with computers, maintaining a sensible online presence & connected to all manner of other institutions I still have to come in person to communicate my data to various clerks. and I can safely bet the very data had been stored for weeks in their database. fcking yay. ~ have sketched a script for the fanvid, am now afraid to touch it. like MA, the movieverse used to be a happier place - well, at first sight, - and here I... n-aww... oh, *headdesk* n. ~ and then there were zombies. in Ankh-Morpork. ...WAIT. there ARE zombies in Ankh-Morpork. a few well-known citizens, in fact... ...okay, there were rabid zombies in A-M. the devour-you-and-your-braaaaaains kind. zombie dogs even. *facepalm* you see what happens there? my subconscious does get contaminated with Marvel ideas, but it runs to the Disc. how mad is that? [poor Lord Vetinari was not amused. not bitten either, though. damn, once in a while I dream of the man in his natural habitat & all, and there have to be zombies all around. bloody mood killers!] Tags: dream, dw, rl
mood:  lazy
sound: Greensleeves ♥
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I know it's been trying... several months, you're exhausted, and restless, and starved for something out of the ordinary to do, and still as high on TFS as ever. understood. however, all of the above are not, mind me, not good reasons to generate mad, bad and positively indecent ideas. "no, literarily, fuck you, universe" is not teh best response, you know? especially when there is a dozen WIPs on your conscience. NO instant crazy pornography. you can't do it anyway, silly. but I'm afraid you will. nyargh... ~ walked by the sea again. have not written anything, alas, but! have not caught a nasty throat infection either. balance is the key. also had a pineapple milkshake, which had stuck in the blender, I kid you not. the straw stood in it. *facepalm* another "hard sucking" situation. shoot me. ~ had two weird, weird dreams: one about a convention trying to be, teh other about me [me!] being in the army. not quite clear *which* army, but I feel sorry for that unknown country, because the best I can do for national security is stay put. mean, we were about to depart for some complex & important exercise, and I could not find half of my gear. at least I knew my gear, mainly thanks to the fine, fine men I served with. I remember feeling v. glad to have known them, and v. sorry to be such a crappy soldier #-) dear subconscious, STFU? Tags: bad idea, dream, rl
mood:  excited
sound: Nine Inch Nails - Big Man With a Gun
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I dreamt that a dear frined [who's been really unwell] was hospitalized. so I up & went to see him, but at some point, fairly away from home, realized - typically - that the hospital was in another city, one I had no means to get to at the moment. disconcerted, I went on wandering through the city I was in, which somehow turned into western outskirts of Eithn [figures]. there, between the jumbled rows of small ancient houses and odd 9-storeys, before endless hills rolling out into the mist, I met Irmo the Vala talking with Vanyar. the elves were having visions of the Return and, as it was happening before Eärendil and the War of Wrath, they turned to Irmo for explanation. that was a conversation I'd love to record, preferably on film, because Irmo was very visual - naturally, - and all they spoke about unfurled around them in motion and colour. consider classic elven song purified. swoon. of course I do not remember the words spoken. *sigh* but I do remember the awesome, awesome feeling of freedom and light... and safety. thanks, Master of Dreams & Desires! ...and then [notice how it never bodes well!] I came upon this on the Internets. it is a calendar featuring Valar as the artist visualizes them, and it's cool, and the cast amused me to an unappropriate degree, I must say. [look at Namo & Irmo, do, and try not to griiiiiiiiin!] Tags: dream, jrrt, бред
mood:  awake
sound: о наважденье, не исчезай..!
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some days I just love/hate the way this brain works. if you cut me now I shall bleed XF [and perhaps some code], but I dream of... Relanium Millennium. wtf. I dream of North-West, rock and sea, towers on the shore, wood and wind and stone, and a company of shadowy people investigating Frank Black while Frank Black picks up threads of a case from long ago. I am about forty and an innkeeper. it is cold and lonely, with the sea lapping at my door, and the longer those people stay - and stay they will, once I mention Mr. Black, - the more my world unravels. I can taste the ocean spray, though I've never been that close to the waters of the Pacific. I want to see/read that story through. I want to go home #-S Tags: dream
mood:  cranky
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приехали, насновиделось: три тома ВК в потрясающем издании (классическая белая бумага, переплет бледно-золотистой ткани с тиснением, на века, берешь книгу в руки и на сердце светлее становится, обнять и плакать не отдать...). златолиственные леса и прочая... ...и комментарии. к ВК Джексона. открывается у меня, значит, книга на комментариях, я про себя пищу от восторга и вгрызаюсь... и немедленно выпил офигеваю, осознав, что именно моя грызет. том оказался третий, потому как в комментарии скоро добрались до наместника гондорского с семьей... ах. пристрелите меня: там были стихи. там были цитаты из и отсылки на. неточностей, нестыковок и просто вранья было больше, чем в фильме (что само по себе подвиг неслабый), глюк гарцевал на глюке... и читалось все сие за милую душу. такой невероятно калорийный и совершенно не полезный (если не отравленный), но безумно вкусный пирог. стою я с тяжелой книгой в руках, глотаю эту великолепную ахинею и хочу хотя бы стихи (poema Denethori?!), хотя бы автора запомнить... и, конечно, просыпаюсь. чистой воды бред, а жалко до слез #-) Tags: dream, lotr, lotrfilm, бред
mood: amused
sound: lullaby from Pan's Labyrinth
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too lazy & tired to run a decent picspam, but a bit... and the bit is golden. ( lookit )hellp... I've been hit hard #-) aw, the sweetest exasperation! ~ speaking of golden, the Yozayan reading & research paid off in a weird, weird way: I dreamt of... a robot spy. imagine C3PO, polished to his best, lurking in the halls and galleries of a palace decorated excessively, all but built of gold bullion. two men pass by, tall, clad in black with gold filigree & traces of scarlet. their footfalls are silent, their talk is soft, only heavy fabrics whisper silkily... they pass, and a portion of a wall steps up & opens its round electric eyes. sneaky... Tags: caps, dream, pix
mood:  accomplished
sound: When I Go
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for a caffeine-affected less-than-five-hour-long it certainly was an... eventful night. there was a Russian Native American, a true free spirit with traces of a bogatyr under his red skin. he kept escaping into the wide wild world, and the [Russian?] authorities kept trying to contain him. ah, the bad old traditions of circularity! there was a computer studies-oriented institute, in which the server crashed and we were left with local graphic software. I was going to show my mother something neat & beautiful, design-wise. people tried their best to be assholes, but we ignored them. outside, there was a beautiful overcast mid-October day... and then there was a [murder] mystery, complete with a car chase, all but supernatural graphic clues, kidnapping and a major error in reasoning, which apparently resulted in double murder. [there was nothing mysterious about that murder, though, just a man, hunted & cornered and haunted out of his mind, with an unfortunate access to two long knives. whether it began with some other murder mysterious I do not know.] ah, braaaain... shall I get you a pen & paper? Tags: dream
mood: awake
sound: Patti Smith - Land
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last night I had a most wonderful dream. it was in the form of an interactive story - the best there is. outlined in sand... ...imagine a desert, but a friendly one. that is to say, no sudden storm, quicksand or ferocious creatures would happen to you. finding shelter, water etc. is still up to thee. and patches of perfectly flat & fine sand in this desert hold a text. a simple text in a plain font, but if - when - you touch it in right places... you can touch with a hand, with an eye, with a right thought provoked by reading... when you touch it so, another part of the story unfolds - opens - comes to life. a colourful picture, another chapter, amazing things coming out of the sands, anything. there were trees, and they spoke, and they wore red and gold - Gryffindor colours. they were desert trees, weird, spare, ancient and noble. there were animals with fëar shaped like people or angels. maybe there were angels. ...and the king. the king of sand and heaven, clad in gold sheen and crimson, wreathed in pure light, with face like the Song of Songs and a great river. the king whose breath changed the face of the world, whose voice was too soft and gentle. ahhhh... I even know why I dreamt that. *melts* Tags: dream
mood:  calm
sound: Наутилус Помпилиус - Дыхание
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вот как глючить надо! урбан-панк-триллер "Джек Воробей и Кольцо Всевластья". реликт [relic], блин. приснится - не отмашешься ;-) это, конечно, не встреча двух трех капитанов в водах Амана, но. (и Кольцо-то он надевать не хотел, надеялся обойтись своими силами и здравым смыслом противника... ага.) (увы, *что* это было я осознала только к концу глюка сна, поэтому помнится очень мало и сумбурно. помнится, был там один замечательный, очень в духе Плоского Мира, трюк: не физически услать оппонента нах за тридевять земель, но "обернуть" вокруг него все недостающее время и расстояние... мррррр.) Tags: bad idea, dream
mood: awake
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( the cats of doom! )~ in other news, I am a pervert, for not only do I want certain bad & wrong crack to be written, I want it to be written well, so the reader wouldn't cringe and mentally puke a couple of sentences into it. come on, folks. you've already succumbed to the dark temptation of mindfuck, do you absolutely have to follow in bad writing?! *facepalm* I am almost, almost tempted to join some obscure underground LotR community & ask for it #-S ~ but! there's sunshine and love to strengthen one's failing faith in writing fankind. as found in Henneth Annûn Story Archive, which abbreviates to HASA #-) A Proper Name. read it. give it a big sloppy kiss hug. it's so worth it '-) Tags: bad idea, dream, lotr, recs
mood:  high
sound: Tic Tac Toe - Warum
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...ну, не то чтобы в белом. и походка не кавалерийская точно. но глюки же, господа! мне приснилось пальто. старое, но вполне еще крепкое кожаное пальто, подбитое звездно-полосатым южным флагом. ночь, метель, ветер выдувает стекла из окон, завивает осколки вперемешку со снегом. двое хрипло спорят о цене и милосердии, "не ко мне, но ко мне подобным"... ...а я стою, как дура, с этим самым пальто в руках. и плакать хочется, очевидно, от милосердия. ~ в реальной жизни же смотрю я Властелина Колец, и меня прет. если принять, что сие ни разу НЕ Толкиен, то прет весьма сильно. ибо кино - блеск. фанфикшн таких масштабов, что авторы живые и мертвые обзавидовались все. ~ но сны, черт подери, кончаются. Jesse, you smug bastard... Tags: dream
mood: amused
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this? this is not just dreaming weird, this is something else. in my dream I have witnessed the construction of mini submarines made of ice. when the final result was submerged in, ah, icy sea water, the bulky outer layers would melt/wash away, and a sleek unexpectedly shaped vessel would remain. one hell to learn to steer and prone to crash in clumsy hands, but when it got going it was amazing. in my dream I also knew who was responsible for World War III. I forgot now. in my dream, all of the above was a sort of by-the-way to my wandering through a twilight zone version of the Tel Aviv area I pass every day on my way to & from work. the place looked cleaner than is, but - on the other hand - was much darker and older. there were... trails of [obscure] fandoms. nooks & corners with maybe remains of certain posters on the walls. tiny shops almost stocked up on unobtainium. more old [or new looking old] posters, photos, books and magazines, curling gently up with time around the yellowing edges. maybe music, I do not recall hearing any, though Oingo Boingo was mentioned. and badges. ah, badges. bleakly colored, or black and white... if Willard Stiles ever wore a badge, it'd look like one of those. I remember holding a fairly large round one, the color of dark cherry, reading "I'm gonna kill you, for it is time." I want one.~ could be more than a subliminal suggestion to change my reading..? Tags: dream
mood: awake
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a-and last night, possibly to compensate for no movie marathon, I dreamt of Star Wars. of a very peculiar version of Star Wars, though, where a Sith Empress ruled the galaxy, Darth Vader was a happily married [apparently not to Padmé] model father, R2D2 was a super secrit agent [well, that one agrees with canon], and Luke Skywalker was actively involved in industrial & political espionage. could not find any traces of Leia. maybe she was working deep undercover. [mmm. there ought to be organized crime, and something like Ghastly Jedi Gunslingers, and starship chase #-) anyone up to writing crack? hmmm?] Tags: dream
mood: awake, dammit
sound: The Doors - Light My Fire
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I don't wanna wake up. outside is [1] cold, [2] pissing down rain, [3] fck reality... ...but in my dreams there is Stephen Briggs. damned if I know why now of all times, maybe the loved ones wait till I thoroughly do not think about them every day, and then come into my dreams with, say, a masterclass. or a lecture, a reading, something that required him standing on a small stage but still among us... I cannot remember what he was saying. I do remember interaction with the audience. I know it was foremost about education, not entertainment. I remember his voice and his hand turning pages. broadcloth, leather and parchment. hell, if I wish - and sometimes when I don't - I can feel the solid warmth of an August 2004 night all along my left side again. Tags: dream
mood: awake
sound: bob dylan - all along the watchtower
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sometimes dreams come back, and some of them I even miss, like standing knee-deep in grass above a channel in Eithn even before I knew it was Eithn, great buildings rising dreamily on the side, like sky-high serene dark stone animals... ah. but now I dream of Sirius Black morphing through time. FTW? not the movie version, thank goodness, and not even as much book version as, perhaps, Sam's from Stealing Harry [and I haven't even read the whole of SH!]. I see him going back in time - and back again, and sometimes his body is faster than his time, better than his timing, transforming into 'present days' version as it's still in the past... sounds fcking weird. wish I could explain better, or at least pay more attention to the dream plot. alas. ~ tonight the Sirius bit was followed by the White Bitch Witch bit. I was tall, blonde, clad in blue. I ambushed the agent of evil - a middle-aged plump short lady with very white hair and skin, powder-white [but not albino-white]. she wore a tiny black leather mask. I knocked her out [with a white cane], bound her with spells and tried to destroy a certain artefact she's been carrying. the damn thing was virtually indestructable, and the witch - don't you worry - was all right enough to mock my efforts. it was not exactly a nightmare, but I was glad to wake up from that one. again, FTW... ~ and then there was - just desserts - a dream I absolutely loved. it was black & white. like an old and aged film '-) it featured a grand movie theatre, a leviathan among movie theatres, with only seats not reaching 10 meter scale '-) the screens alone must've been at least 30 meters wide! [yes, screens: the greater one in the center and the auxiliary one on the left.] there was bunting, there were flowers. there were so many lovely young ladies! or maybe not that young, but certainly lovely. most of them were seated in the section closer to the screens. then there was an interval [ha! you could throw a ball on that expance of perfect floor], and after it - a more modest, if possible, set of seats. we were heading for those. I was escorted by at least one perfect gentleman of - aye - Lecter caliber. I remember feeling wonderful, all set to see a good movie in a great company. the company was also intent on watching the audience. ah, the perfect mix of exhilaration and calm, the air smelling of flowers and light, ringing gently with melodious voices and laughter..! the lights dimming, dimming gradually, fingers warm and dry in my hand... 's just a dream, but one I'm so glad to remember. mrrrrrr. ~ there also is a picture - a tiny bit of a scene - to be kept for reference. on how magic works. well, in Eithn, and maybe a particular kind of magic... '-) in a perfect triangle [reminding John of a stand-off and a flower arrangement] M reaches out, long fingers gently prying an invisible curtain apart, reaches beyond in rippling air, and lo, his hand emerges triumphant, holding a rose freshly cut. he's just as pleased and surprised as the lady accepting the flower, red petals glowing in her hand, in his eyes. I am just a bit in love with you. Tags: dream
mood:  melancholy
sound: Leonard Cohen - If It Be Your Will
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nothing's happening here. la... there were weird dreams, which I cannot remember properly, alas. one had Norse Myth and Voodoo mixed up in my head, resulting in a group of children dedicated to various deities hiking to a big house in a snowy forest, and spirits having red hair & pale skin. IIRC, we had a terrific time up in the woods. kid!me had some inklings of impending doom, but even if something nasty was going to happen to us, it was apparently scheduled past the time I woke up. so there's just a memory of good happening against reason '-) the other one, memories of which are way too vague, included at least this one element Z is going to love: circa Episode I Anakin Skywalker sailing into the river Anduin. he was arguing with someone mentor-like, and the next second - bang! colors fade to sepia-golden-brown, and the two suddenly are in a boat, and Ani looks outright scared. methinks he was afraid to drown, and, by the looks of his mentor, he's got all reasons to be. ~ I was going to watch River's Edge, but while I was looking for it on the shelves, I picked up the DVD of The Stunt Man, and... yeah. got very much distracted. because besides the awesome movie there's The Sinister Saga of Making of..., which is priceless. and then there's the want to see it all over again with Saga in mind... I did not even touch the commentary. yet. [OMFG, apples & blue eyes & mindfuck & genius insane... and Peter's perfect storyteller's voice with tiny eerie accents... *ah*. he didn't read anything, like audio books or poems or anything for the record, right? *sigh* now, where's my copy of Loitering with Intent...] ~ HR is being downloaded. at least I'm pretty sure it's HR. I hope to see the end of that download, too #-( it's... incredibly frustrating. slower than a sedated snail & illegal, but a must-see is a must-see. soon, dammit. ~ so much for thinking positive #-) Tags: dream, videogasm
mood:  blah
sound: Al Hirt - Green Hornet
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Russian language leaks. there's silver age poetry being quoted in The Book of the Dead, and there's a line in Wintersmith. it ain't good, I have stared at the line for about a minute before getting it! a peculiar sensation it is, having your first language leap out at you like that #-) sweet. and yes, I have finally got a copy of Wintersmith. none too soon, and what a wonderful book it is!! even the bit about having to be human and not being very good at it, and minus wintersmith's enthusiasm, really... ah. a GREAT read. meep #-) [what I love about PTerry the writer is this something alive about his books, something very much now & here, making one feel both the sky and the firm ground under feet. cool, sir!] ~ I've been also dreaming weirdly these days... and not remembering much of it, alas. for one, my mind was bent enough to drag both Gary Oldman and Johnny Depp into a dream together, but it won't let me know what for, and who was the third man, and why. what I mostly recall is light, bright and pale. and smiles... tonight was weird with sugar on top: it was like watching Russian characters in a Western movie done right, without fake or godawful Russian being chewed and mangled. they spoke English. they wore uniforms - khaki lined with dark red, very formal, cool and soft to touch, and very uninformative: it was impossible to tell whether they were the army or something else. anyway, as far as I can reconstruct the thing... character One, named Valery, had been accused of some serious crime, political, methinks, arrested, brought before a firing squad and shot in the head. but something went wrong, because there he was standing, talking, alive & successfully recovering from a head injury. character Two, name unknown, was Working For The Government. he was trying to recruit Valery for something so top secret it almost did not exist, and so illegal it'd better not exist, dirty all around... and if Valery refused, there always was the possibility of his head injury turning out to be much more grave than they first thought... well, by the looks of it, Valery went, to hell with it. last thing I remember is him falling backwards, Two rushing to catch him, an arm stretched limply on the carpet. my stylist's brain wants to add a bullet rolling out of Valery's hand, but that'd be, ah, Explainin', because I have not seen the bullet, not really. wth... ~ dearest Z has finished Still Life With Crows and is heading into the fine mess of what I still call Pendergast Trilogy. may the Force be with us. ~ and I really ought to write about Men in Boxes, demi-urges, and deep rivers of L... but not tonight. tonight Johnny Daemonic explained about music, magic, how not to do it, and authographs in blood. for a reed-thin man who literally melts away in open daylight he is disturbingly real when he chooses to be. love enough to break a heart indeed. Tags: dream
mood: amused
sound: Thom Yorke - Analyse
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my subconscious is a stoner. look what it comes up with, hopped up on a handful of cold pills... dream one: Weird Science! set in a classic secluded mansion cum a park thinking of growing wild, beautifully colored, awash in quiet golden glow seeping from within... where a man with the manners of a secret agent and the face of Rafe Fiennes conversed, much to his own frustration, with the host and master [greying hair thinking of growing wild, vacant look, white lab coat]. perhaps the doctor [he must have been a doctor of something, by the looks of] thought of fitting him into one of his current projects. agent Fiennes escaped via a carefully arranged hole in the park fence while the mad scientist went to dance with the lightning in his garden, but I have this bad feeling of it not being the end of the affair... dream two: MONKEY! n-no, not really, but it was so messed up. it was definitely PotC-based, but I haven't glimpsed the sea, or any water, not once. there were great vast expances of green... grass-covered plains, and prehistoric horsemen, and time travel [of the sort where you become your own ancestor and really screw up], and - back to the future - palaces at dawn... all right, the palaces, in that light, did look like tall ships made of glass and cloud, ready to set sail. unfortunately, I do not know the story behind it, but trust Captain Jack to drag it back in time and fast forward again. it ended, for the time being, with a carriage just leaving one of those majestic sailing palaces. the carriage carried: Mr Cutler Beckett, Ms Elizabeth Swann in some way engaged with Mr Beckett, and Captains Barbossa and Sparrow. Mr William Turner had apparently gone swimming [again]. I have not really seen much of Barbossa, but nobody else would have his tattered arm around Jack's shoulders in a perfect gesture of strangle-you-if-you-make-the-wrong-move rum-warmed companionship. Captain Jack, now... looked pale, very pale underneath all that tan and grime, skin bloodless and sallow, and indeed a fresh cut on his face would not bleed... wtf? also looked like he bit his lips badly not long ago. but of course he was looking terrific all the same smirking, cool as you please, and when someone [perhaps even dream!me] expressed their terrified wonder at his agreeing to Swann-Beckett proposal, he corrected them, saying that the agreement lasts only till an opportune moment presents itself. aw, Jack! and now I am running late. *scrams* Tags: dream
mood: awake
sound: Squirrel Nut Zippers - Trou Macacq
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my mind and body were designed to sleep through the small hours of the morning, i.e. 5-8 a.m. woken by the alarm at 6, shut me eyes for another 20 minutes something, and dreamt of... [1] folding a perfect tiny replica of Vader's mask out of a sheet of fine white cardboard. no kidding, gentlebeings, with my own clumsy hands and all... it was palm-sized or even smaller, so white and correct, adorable! [2] entertaining Johnny Depp and his kid [sic!] at my house [the hell!] in Eithn. seriously, guys! gentlemen! that is my private city, not a family resort! you have NO business leaving plastic beach toys in my bathroom even if you are Johnny Depp. ah, all right, I was not that pissed... or rather both pissed and amazed. that honest smile on his sunburnt face did not hurt either. okay, as long as you don't make a habit of it... #-) my city of Eithn becomes a weirdly popular place. now, if a short skinny blond fellow of an indeterminable age shows up all on his own, I... I do not know. closing the city gates certainly won't help any. you know, this very real frustration of having [hi]story happen right beside you and being unable to write it all down? Tags: dream
mood: calm
sound: Blue October - Razorblade
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look, another awfully informative post! how does she do that?! la... yesterday, a small miracle happened: been to Halper's and had not carried away anything. first, because of being stupid & really not knowing what books off a tightly packed stand I might need, and secondly, because horror, thriller & sci-fi sections held no new old wonders. [money? what money??] on the other hand, listening to Garbage's It's All Over But the Crying while looking at the aforementioned stand was an experience #-) so now instead of books [and where, pray, IS all my mail?!] we have Sensations Brut 86% dark chocolate. one can't possibly eat more than a small piece of it at a time, and that is also an experience '-) mmm... I wonder, is this an addiction or could it still be filed under 'perserverating interests'? knowing something by heart & going over it over and over again because it's that good? meh... if I were just that bit crazier [and richer], I'd be collecting handwriting samples [which is not the same thing as autographs]. the trouble is, so many people did not leave a bit of a written trail after them, when you think of it. pity & shame. and another silly tidbit before I have to rush to work: dreaming about Reacher Gilt trying to sell me software must be symptomatic. first, I am not in the habit of buying software... and gaming software at that... I am truly lost here. ah, what gives... would you like a cat? go on, look at one '-) Tags: dream, recs
mood: blah
sound: Garbage - Why Do You Love Me?!
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the recipe for an almost controlled cool dream, apparently, is getting all excited about something when you're so tired you can't think straight. VB last night, for one? it was a big sprawling thing, animated, very closely matching VB style both in art and spirit. *purrs* it had no less than three great ships [hello, National Geographic!] converging, amazing technology still working after a couple of decades but being all glitchy because the batteries nearly died, cool inventions not really working as intended but damn useful as something else entirely, and a selected company of just the right people to screw with it '-) oh, and play on words in several languages! can't forget the play on words. I also remember opening an AAA-size battery and pouring out a great amount of golden brown crystalline stuff. hmmmm... now that contents component is somewhat mastered, must work on memorizing the results better. speaking of work, eeek, it's that time of the day again. Tags: dream
mood: awake
sound: Space - Neighbourhood
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2 days to go, just 2 more days, and I'm of course unpacked & keep checking with the airport sites to see my flight not being cancelled or something. the project of today is getting a haircut. etc., which is stressful, silly, and exciting in its small ways. I have VB 2.05 and no time to watch it. NOT cool. I have a capricious piece of text to type up, in places making it up as I go, and no time to... not cool either. oh, I have cats bawling their brains out somewhere outside. which is cool because, duh, cats, and they can go on for an amazing amount of time. and I keep dreaming weirdly. keeping weird memories of those dreams, too, because what I really remember are the endings, which sometimes explain the dream whole... like this last night, I've been visited by doctors, though it's a bit unclear what they actually did with me. anyway, we left the apartment together. I recall vividly the stairs, the steps flat, wide and dusty grey just like back home, and an uncomfortable overcoat I half-heartedly pulled on... funny, it's the coat that makes me realize I was not quite female in the dream [again]. ugh. anyway, we made it to the house entrance, and the doctors offered me a lift. to an institution. not insisted or anything, just offered an option, and when I wondered why said gently that it was for my own good, since I was suspected of having suicidal ambition. "WTF?!" promptly went I. they reminded me how people tended to check the windows [shut] in my presence etc. I remembered then, but it still sounded mightily fcking stupid. even if I was feeling trapped, I wouldn't walk out of a window, for crying out loud. really, even when I did consider ending my own life, that particular way had never crossed my mind. stupid... so I turned from the kind doctors and went another way. hopefully shedding the coat '-) and amazingly alive. now, this dream reeks of Ravenous somehow, though I can't put a finger on it... maybe it was people getting vaguely disgusted & nervous in the presence of the main character. you know, afraid not of this particular man getting sick or going crazy or killing himself, but of being blatantly reminded, having sickness, madness & death shoved in their faces. weird. perhaps Zachary is right, and some Bacardi would do good for the subconscious #-) Tags: dream
mood: awake
sound: Khatul - Armageddon Dagorrath
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yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away I made a point of not buying & drinking a bottle of Bacardi breezer, and I still dreamt about James Norrington chasing Captain Jack Sparrow. what the..? to make things interesting, it was set in days more or less modern, with ports industrial and cities sprawling, with caravans of barges and weird-smelling damp tunnels in the sand a ship could somehow pass, with rehabilitated Norrington gone corporate and Jack... being Jack '-) how's that, to have Jack Sparrow anchor a world? I'll tell you how it ended. it was a shiny afternoon, most likely in early autumn, and James Norrington was in a park alley, entertaining some sweet young ladies, when a horn call came. ladies hastily apologized to, he raced down to the port through leaves & flowers & otherwise deserted park, coming to a stop on a hill top to reconnoiter. to his right was a summer-house overflowing with bougainvillea, now all dry. he stood there, suddenly on the defensive, tearing up one dry flower, seeing ghost of a movement in the corner of his eye... I wish I could paint his face when he looked back at me, shocked out of his depths. being a honest brat, I had to confirm that yes, that was a somewhat grimy golden brown hand part beckoning, part waving good-bye through the vines. he entered the summer-house on wooden legs, and there, in a window facing open sea, was propped a piece of slate with a note on it. and below, on a steep slope, he could just make out a figure in a familiar hat. making way to the bay, running lightly through drying grass, careless... the bloody alarm rang right when we were about to read the note. reality, thou still sucketh. Tags: dream
mood:  crazy
sound: Shivaree - Goodnight Moon
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of all things possible, the dream was about a literary masterclass. of course it's been read by a total jerk, a man who could've been the definition of jerk, but la! as long as something of value was being said I just took notes [insert happy student memory here]. and perhaps thanks to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) mithrilian, the topic of choice was How Not To Overdo It With Your Character. not the actual topic, that is, but the best way to sum it up. basically, we were talking Mary Sue in terms veiled when my notes had suddenly decided to become sketches [hello, subconscious writing vs. drawing battle]. every colorful metaphor became a bright shiny [stylized] flower, and soon I was standing on a most beautiful lawn. superfluous and merely bad writing ideas turned into small angry dogs, and I was catching them with a net as they dashed by. hi-larious! then there was a dog too big for my net, and the dog climbed a tree [sic!], and dragged down the entire frilly package of marysueisms. which apparently concluded the practical part of the lecture. and just as I was asking why we considered a male character all along, the alarm went off. daaamn, now I want my notes back '-) (a perfect animal, a circular creature, bad writing eating itself. aww #-) ~ something else: a goth quiz. yup, I'm an airhead with a good taste and a preference for red wine indeed #-) ( silly bunny )Tags: dream
mood: awake
sound: mew - zookeeper's boy
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not as much a recurring dream as recurring motif: me going/finding myself somewhere pretty far away, unprepared and unencumbered by luggage, money, etc. yet feeling fine about it. hmm. like a clearing in a pine forest, which for some reason my sleeping mind placed in the States. or last night's big town house... in Chernovtsy, because - sleepy reasoning again - where else could my twice removed uncle live? [right now he lives several bus stops away from me, mwah, but the family comes from Chernovtsy, though they had never had a [big] house, and.] there was a feeling of big yet very comfortable space, soft summer outside, well-used furniture, paintings & drawings lining the walls... [he and his younger son are quite good and original artists in RL.] I remember learning my way around the house, experimentally. I *very clearly* remember dreaming up his mother in law, which certainly was a sign of ultimate reality '-) and of course everyone left, left me with only the old lady in the house, and the only thing I wanted to do was get to the studio with all the books and a computer. come to think of it, I don't mind this one coming true. ~ I'll eat Dexamol Night and sleep comfortably numb. ~ this song is. it makes me think - feel - about things I do not quite know yet. Tags: dream
mood:  ecstatic
sound: Jem - 24
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not quite, but even better: jaywalking with Stephen in Eithn. good heavens, did I absolutely have to wake up from that?! ach... and daaaaamn tactile memory, for I can still feel our arms draped around each other. dreamland, o dreamland, I do remember the end of August [and that one hug, thanks], pls stop fucking with my head? mrr... [yes, everything, including the complicated ride to the party, and the party itself in a half-constructed house, and the extremely mixed company. I can take a hint, no need to hit me with a hammer picture] Tags: dream
mood: awake
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there are dreams that tell you a story, and sometimes the story even survives far beyond dreamland. there are erotic dreams. there are sex dreams. all well. I still fondly recall the vision of an orgy on the brim of a shark pool decorated with the school's Leninist paraphernalia... ...and then there is the mighty WTF. combining bat...people, computer class in a magical school, World War II, the Matrix, state treason, rural lanscapes, and anal sex. the... hell? among bursts of gunfire, brainwashing & persecution, two main characters running over to the Nazi side, and "Your body is wired into what?! Ewwww!" it was plain disturbing. and realistic to boot. the stuff the worst nightmares are made of, yet it did not feel like a nightmare, rather like having to watch a really, really traumatizing documentary. now, what should I quit, drinking red wine once in a while or reading fanfiction past bedtime? hmm... Tags: dream
mood:  discontent
sound: System of a Down - Dreaming
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a call from work woke me up at 10:30 AM. score, you bastards '-) bought cake [am still dreaming of lacing it with strychnine, dammit], drinks, entrails, chocolate, and fake crab meat... highlights: Ocean Spray and chocolate-covered orange peel. feast? also bought another book! no, not the translation of doom [though it's been funneh watching the bookseller try to compute]. the Pentacle collection of stories *winks at Z*. by the by, the same shop that tried to sell me Oldie's Caribbean trilogy. figures. have at last watched 28 Days Later, loved it. Cillian 'I am not infected, just inspired' aw. what a... pointy film. have read a most beautiful Xmas story, too... love? and this lovely day started with a pretty weird dream: ( crown jools )Idea Morgue, there's one more for you. Tags: dream
mood:  complacent
sound: Trans-Siberian Orchestra - Christmas Eve,sarajevo 12-24 (
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you know, this I've been dreaming again, of the City again, and it's been first disguised as the one I'd been born in, but the buildings' size was a give-away. and then - the sea, the [in]famous sea, which is never really nice, and from which you descend to the city itself. (hope the city of Eithn is not related to R'lyeh, come to think of it... #-) so: tall houses, looming and square; evening shadows all shades of rust; chopping up some fish... and probably H.Vetinari and me conversing over a ghost of a salad I in RL have been meaning for ages to make. *facepalm* yes, of all things... still, it was very nice of the man to openly be there for once... I'm so, so very tired. brain-fried, too. the pseudooriginal story [which keeps writing itself in my head] creeps in weird directions. and considering it came first from a dream, that's something... dear not-so-good guys [and gals], there is absolutely no turning your plot line into a gangster family drama, okay? you're not mafia, though you do try. y'all are just... genetically influenced? I so need a *facepalm* iconTags: dream
mood:  tired
sound: Iggy Pop - Passenger
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rewind 
anxious
impressed
okay