Colonic for my Subconscious
Well, I've been released on my own recognizance for the time being from Grendku Industries. We'll see how this goes. So far, it's been a rocky road...
I rarely remember my dreams. I'm not sure if this is caused by my funky sleep cycle or if my subconscious just does not like to share. I may go months without remembering a single brief memory of a dream. Maybe it's that I try to keep my subconscious pretty tidy during my wakings hours so it does not need a lot of maintenance through dream cycles? If that's the case then last night was evidence that things have gotten a bit untidy upstairs. I remembered a dream this morning. And it was not a happy-flying-through-clouds, naked-sweaty-women happy-fun yum-yum dream. I never seem to remember any of those. *shakes fist at subconscious*
Au contraire mon frere. It was a screaming-people, trailer-trash snowmobile-riding-in-the-summer, chainsaw-wielding maniac in an arena-of-doom type dream. I had a large blockage in the bowels of my subconcious which only a nice little nightmare was going to unplug.
So let's get on with the dream...
Chapter 1: Where the Frell am I?
You know the feeling.. a dream starts up and you have the sensation of not knowing where you are, disorientation, yet knowing you are there for some unknown hideous unexplainable reason. Well, somehow I was in an arena.. a peculiar little arena. It was like a trailer trash arena. I'm not sure what the outer wall was, as it was never made clear, but I knew I was trapped there. There wasn't really a crowd or bleacher in the arena, no audience of any sort really. Again.. didn't know what was holding me there other than simply knowing I was trapped there. I was standing in the middle of a dirt or gravel track in the middle of summer. Nearby was a beat up metal picnic table, the kind you find in a park. The track wasn't really that large or wide. I felt very confined by it. At the center of this track was a weird maze with was made of sand. The walls were no more than 4' tall and not very wide. There was interspersed vegetation through the maze. There were also others inside this arena with me.. I didn't really see them so much as heard them, screaming in horror and fear. This clued me into the fact that I wasn't in a happy place. I took all of this in very quickly. I had to...
Chapter 2: The Picnic Bench Saves Me
...as there was a maniac riding a snowmobile on the gravel track wildly waving around a rumbling chainsaw menacingly. You know, you've seen these idiots in trailer trash parks riding their snowmobiles across the highway in a shower of sparks when there is .000001 inches of snow on the ground. Typically though, they aren't screaming at the top of their lungs in homicidal rage and sporting a fully-fueled chainsaw. Typically. Fear grips me, but I have a sense I'm going to survive this pass, as I see the picnic table is interposed between myself and Chainsaw Wielding Aberration on Sparking Snowmobile from Hell. Just to be on the safe side I orbit my savior, the picnic table, as CWA makes his pass on his SSH just to keep the table between me and this fiend for the duration of his Flyby with Murderous Intent.
Chapter 3: Survey the Arena
The track is short, and SSH seems to make laps pretty damned fast, but I know I have a little time. There is no way the picnic table defense will work again, as you'll soon learn so I need to find something new to protect myself, or I'm a dead man. And I really prefer not to die, even in dreams. Which I know this is by this point, but it really doesn't matter. It's the principle of the thing. So I need to find another way to survive, and fast, because I know his lap is just about up and so is my time. I want to live...!
Chapter 4: The Sand Maze
I dive for an entrance into the Sand Maze and wiggle my way inside. It's a tight fit and cramp, but if I hunker down I'm pretty sure CWA won't be able to see me on this next pass. There's even some brush up near my head to help conceal me. Gods, the lunatic is coming for another FMI.. he passes by.. he didn't see me! I no longer hear any other screams out on the track. I'm not sure if it's because he's killed them or if I'm in shock from fear and am unable to hear properly. I know this trick will not work again. I've exhausted my cover. The picnic table has been used, the maze has been used. I'm wedged inside this maze with no manueverability so all CWA has to do is hop off, wander inside and open me up stem to stern. Or do a fancy driveby where he just sticks his chainsaw straight the sand wall and impale me at his leisure. If I unwedge myself I'm out on the track with no cover and a driveby is a guaranteed fatality as I'm completely vulnerable to a FMI. I reach the point in the dream where you basically know you are screwed. There is no hope. There is no escape. Yay. And the heart pounds.
Chapter 5: Villians have Great Adaptability
All the villians in my nightmares can always adapt to my secret survival techniques. I'm really sick of it. Just because they have full access to my plans and thoughts via my subconscious doesn't mean they should get to use this knowledge every damned dream. I couldn't use the picnic table again successfully because CWA just would have slowed down and chosen the side that I would have chosen to dodge to for a successful pass and kill. I couldn't continue to use the maze successfully because next time around he'd be getting off of his SSH to run me down and gut me. It's totally unfair. So I knew I was dead.. and I did what I always do in a doomed nightmare scenario. I hit the eject button. I woke myself up. It's like they are teasing me by letting me get away with it the first time. Toying with me until I run out of options. Enjoying the chase. Bastards.
Epilogue
Well, I hope whatever was jammed up in my mental pipes has busted loose. For those of you that know me well there are some very easy obvious associations that can be made with situations and characters.
I rarely remember my dreams. I'm not sure if this is caused by my funky sleep cycle or if my subconscious just does not like to share. I may go months without remembering a single brief memory of a dream. Maybe it's that I try to keep my subconscious pretty tidy during my wakings hours so it does not need a lot of maintenance through dream cycles? If that's the case then last night was evidence that things have gotten a bit untidy upstairs. I remembered a dream this morning. And it was not a happy-flying-through-clouds, naked-sweaty-women happy-fun yum-yum dream. I never seem to remember any of those. *shakes fist at subconscious*
Au contraire mon frere. It was a screaming-people, trailer-trash snowmobile-riding-in-the-summer, chainsaw-wielding maniac in an arena-of-doom type dream. I had a large blockage in the bowels of my subconcious which only a nice little nightmare was going to unplug.
So let's get on with the dream...
Chapter 1: Where the Frell am I?
You know the feeling.. a dream starts up and you have the sensation of not knowing where you are, disorientation, yet knowing you are there for some unknown hideous unexplainable reason. Well, somehow I was in an arena.. a peculiar little arena. It was like a trailer trash arena. I'm not sure what the outer wall was, as it was never made clear, but I knew I was trapped there. There wasn't really a crowd or bleacher in the arena, no audience of any sort really. Again.. didn't know what was holding me there other than simply knowing I was trapped there. I was standing in the middle of a dirt or gravel track in the middle of summer. Nearby was a beat up metal picnic table, the kind you find in a park. The track wasn't really that large or wide. I felt very confined by it. At the center of this track was a weird maze with was made of sand. The walls were no more than 4' tall and not very wide. There was interspersed vegetation through the maze. There were also others inside this arena with me.. I didn't really see them so much as heard them, screaming in horror and fear. This clued me into the fact that I wasn't in a happy place. I took all of this in very quickly. I had to...
Chapter 2: The Picnic Bench Saves Me
...as there was a maniac riding a snowmobile on the gravel track wildly waving around a rumbling chainsaw menacingly. You know, you've seen these idiots in trailer trash parks riding their snowmobiles across the highway in a shower of sparks when there is .000001 inches of snow on the ground. Typically though, they aren't screaming at the top of their lungs in homicidal rage and sporting a fully-fueled chainsaw. Typically. Fear grips me, but I have a sense I'm going to survive this pass, as I see the picnic table is interposed between myself and Chainsaw Wielding Aberration on Sparking Snowmobile from Hell. Just to be on the safe side I orbit my savior, the picnic table, as CWA makes his pass on his SSH just to keep the table between me and this fiend for the duration of his Flyby with Murderous Intent.
Chapter 3: Survey the Arena
The track is short, and SSH seems to make laps pretty damned fast, but I know I have a little time. There is no way the picnic table defense will work again, as you'll soon learn so I need to find something new to protect myself, or I'm a dead man. And I really prefer not to die, even in dreams. Which I know this is by this point, but it really doesn't matter. It's the principle of the thing. So I need to find another way to survive, and fast, because I know his lap is just about up and so is my time. I want to live...!
Chapter 4: The Sand Maze
I dive for an entrance into the Sand Maze and wiggle my way inside. It's a tight fit and cramp, but if I hunker down I'm pretty sure CWA won't be able to see me on this next pass. There's even some brush up near my head to help conceal me. Gods, the lunatic is coming for another FMI.. he passes by.. he didn't see me! I no longer hear any other screams out on the track. I'm not sure if it's because he's killed them or if I'm in shock from fear and am unable to hear properly. I know this trick will not work again. I've exhausted my cover. The picnic table has been used, the maze has been used. I'm wedged inside this maze with no manueverability so all CWA has to do is hop off, wander inside and open me up stem to stern. Or do a fancy driveby where he just sticks his chainsaw straight the sand wall and impale me at his leisure. If I unwedge myself I'm out on the track with no cover and a driveby is a guaranteed fatality as I'm completely vulnerable to a FMI. I reach the point in the dream where you basically know you are screwed. There is no hope. There is no escape. Yay. And the heart pounds.
Chapter 5: Villians have Great Adaptability
All the villians in my nightmares can always adapt to my secret survival techniques. I'm really sick of it. Just because they have full access to my plans and thoughts via my subconscious doesn't mean they should get to use this knowledge every damned dream. I couldn't use the picnic table again successfully because CWA just would have slowed down and chosen the side that I would have chosen to dodge to for a successful pass and kill. I couldn't continue to use the maze successfully because next time around he'd be getting off of his SSH to run me down and gut me. It's totally unfair. So I knew I was dead.. and I did what I always do in a doomed nightmare scenario. I hit the eject button. I woke myself up. It's like they are teasing me by letting me get away with it the first time. Toying with me until I run out of options. Enjoying the chase. Bastards.
Epilogue
Well, I hope whatever was jammed up in my mental pipes has busted loose. For those of you that know me well there are some very easy obvious associations that can be made with situations and characters.
7 Comments:
Yep, that's my week in a nutshell. :\
My subconscious just likes to tease me with false hope. :/
I, too, get screwed out of any memory of the lovely dreams... The closest sweaty-yum-yum dream memory I had was coffee with Brad Pitt. Notice: COFFEE! Not SEX?!?! WTF??
~K
That's just wrong. There should have at least been donuts as well. >:)
Was the guy withthe chainsaw your father? Because in my dreams the chainsaw guy is always my dad...
I guess that's cause I managed to tick him off when I was a kid;)
Dreams are overrated... you should be glad you don't remember them.
Nope, my subconscious knows that my dad is pretty damned non-threatening. Wouldn't bother to muster him up for much in the way of fearful dreams.
It's usually my mom with the chainsaw... and it's sticking out of her mouth like a whirring, lacerating tongue.
my god dewdew. i think *i'm* going to have that nightmare now. the image is so vividly horrifying.
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