2011-03-03 12:19![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
digitaldiscipline
digitaldisciplineNotably weird dream sequences the last week, despite, until the last two nights, utterly miserable quality/quantity of sleep.
Last night, I slept pretty well, despite one of the most disturbing dreams I can recall. It began like a combination nature documentary (replete with Attenborough-esque voiceover) and action movie; we were in a giant dirt caldera with a scattered handful of tiny mud islands (like, five by fifteen feet, a foot above the waterline), and were being kept as prisoners. The boatman who brought us to the island was in a hollowed out log, kind of like a canoe shaped like a malformed foot, but instead of a pole to push off or an oar to paddle with, he was rowing with an axe (blonde wood handle, gleaming silver head).
He rowed us to the end of a pier, which was little more than rotten planks barely held together with rope and crossmembers, at which point, I sprinted for the shore, the khaki-brown water washing over the top of it and my bare feet (or maybe my Vibrams). As I got close to the shack where it met land, I noticed the decayed corpse of a thresher shark underneath the right side, in perhaps 18" of water, a dismembered human arm (right arm, palm up, from someone who must have been huge) laying underneath the middle, with the mid-forearm and hand sticking through where a board had rotted away, and on the left side, just before shore, were the remains of a very, very deceased and decayed pig, head towards the shore.
As you can imagine, the stench was overwhelming, especially in the hot, still air, and the water couldn't possibly have been anything but keenly septic; after I hit shore I turned right and kept running towards a bombed-out cement underpass, and began throwing up. running while projectile vomiting is approximately as enjoyable as it sounds; I kept puking something that felt like a thick, gritty liquid (imagine a hot milkshake with a fistful of sand; that's close to the texture) into a rusted-out oil drum under the bridge. There was a Sex Pistols CD in the bottom of the barrel, and a punk girl with short spiky blue hair, who started throwing up something plum-colored and apparently of a similar texture to my own.
I woke up and had to check that I hadn't actually thrown up in my sleep. So, that was fun, even if I have no idea what the hell it was about.
The other was just as weird, a bit more violent, but way less gross. I was sitting next to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
matociquala in a lawn chair (aside: for someone i've never actually met in person, she sure shows up in my dreams a lot) beneath some large shade trees on a grassy verge between the only street in a two-stoplight town that was, literally, two stoplights and a long, skinny park that occupied an island on the other side of the road from where we were. There were a couple of very large alligators in the water in front of us. unexpectedly, an enormously fat female 'gator breached out of the water towards eBear, who got out of the way, but her wooden rocking chair was crushed. the alligator was so fat that it couldn't roll back over, and eBear was about to smack it with a baseball bat, when I said "here, use this" and handed her an antique potato hook.
She raised it aloft, and smote the alligator a mighty blow... in the vulva. Yes, I know alligators are reptiles. yes, i know they have a cloaca. this one had rudimentary labia. obviously, it hurt about as much as you'd expect, since the beast convulsed, flipped into the air, and landed on its back in the water. I never figured out if it was able to right itself or not, because i woke up from the splash.
Last night, I slept pretty well, despite one of the most disturbing dreams I can recall. It began like a combination nature documentary (replete with Attenborough-esque voiceover) and action movie; we were in a giant dirt caldera with a scattered handful of tiny mud islands (like, five by fifteen feet, a foot above the waterline), and were being kept as prisoners. The boatman who brought us to the island was in a hollowed out log, kind of like a canoe shaped like a malformed foot, but instead of a pole to push off or an oar to paddle with, he was rowing with an axe (blonde wood handle, gleaming silver head).
He rowed us to the end of a pier, which was little more than rotten planks barely held together with rope and crossmembers, at which point, I sprinted for the shore, the khaki-brown water washing over the top of it and my bare feet (or maybe my Vibrams). As I got close to the shack where it met land, I noticed the decayed corpse of a thresher shark underneath the right side, in perhaps 18" of water, a dismembered human arm (right arm, palm up, from someone who must have been huge) laying underneath the middle, with the mid-forearm and hand sticking through where a board had rotted away, and on the left side, just before shore, were the remains of a very, very deceased and decayed pig, head towards the shore.
As you can imagine, the stench was overwhelming, especially in the hot, still air, and the water couldn't possibly have been anything but keenly septic; after I hit shore I turned right and kept running towards a bombed-out cement underpass, and began throwing up. running while projectile vomiting is approximately as enjoyable as it sounds; I kept puking something that felt like a thick, gritty liquid (imagine a hot milkshake with a fistful of sand; that's close to the texture) into a rusted-out oil drum under the bridge. There was a Sex Pistols CD in the bottom of the barrel, and a punk girl with short spiky blue hair, who started throwing up something plum-colored and apparently of a similar texture to my own.
I woke up and had to check that I hadn't actually thrown up in my sleep. So, that was fun, even if I have no idea what the hell it was about.
The other was just as weird, a bit more violent, but way less gross. I was sitting next to
matociquala in a lawn chair (aside: for someone i've never actually met in person, she sure shows up in my dreams a lot) beneath some large shade trees on a grassy verge between the only street in a two-stoplight town that was, literally, two stoplights and a long, skinny park that occupied an island on the other side of the road from where we were. There were a couple of very large alligators in the water in front of us. unexpectedly, an enormously fat female 'gator breached out of the water towards eBear, who got out of the way, but her wooden rocking chair was crushed. the alligator was so fat that it couldn't roll back over, and eBear was about to smack it with a baseball bat, when I said "here, use this" and handed her an antique potato hook. She raised it aloft, and smote the alligator a mighty blow... in the vulva. Yes, I know alligators are reptiles. yes, i know they have a cloaca. this one had rudimentary labia. obviously, it hurt about as much as you'd expect, since the beast convulsed, flipped into the air, and landed on its back in the water. I never figured out if it was able to right itself or not, because i woke up from the splash.
