A nice cup of rabies

Yesterday, Nick and I had brunch at a popular place with a slow cooking time. Our conversation while waiting for our food turned to our dreams. I noted that it seemed like I’d quit dreaming about my mother over the past couple years; there was a sort of acknowledgement from Dream-MJ that she was dead, and she’d quit coming around any more.

Last night, Dream Me found herself rummaging frantically around the house I grew up in to grab a few keepsakes before it was engulfed by some kind of Doom. She dig around the tiny place full of built-in shelves that my room was  in this dream, grabbing a few books. Then she went into the kitchen, which for some reason had little plastic cartoon figures sitting on every flat surface. None of them were the right one to grab. Maybe the right one would be in MJ’s room?

So there I was at the threshold of my mother’s room. Musty, weirdly lit, no sheets on the bare mattress. With a distinct sense that going in was a Bad Idea. But I stepped in anyway. And the air went from “musty” to “completely nonexistent”; my throat closed up and I started gasping for breath, the lights went out and I could just see a shimmering rainbow aura of me waving my hand in front of me as if I was trying to stir up the air.

And then I heard Nick behind me, asking if I was okay. And then I was awake with no lingering fear, and none of the disorientation I’d normally expect from a sudden transition like that.

When I went back to sleep, I spent some time trying to investigate the dream version of my childhood home. But all I could get was a black void. I dunno if that feels portentous or no.

Mirrored from Egypt Urnash.

I dreamt that it had been announced that there was going to be a comic based on the monster cereals – Count Chocula/Frankenberry/etc. People had started posting weird takes on what they thought it would be; deliberately-ugly short nonsensical strips. Some of these were “going viral” online. The people actually doing the comic posted a plea to stop doing this and wait for the rich worldbuilding they were doing.

I managed to find a link to where the comic was being posted, but not promoted. It was a single panel strip, presented in the form of a VR scene of a fire hydrant with a sticker of the single panel on it. It was neither funny nor good.

Mirrored from Egypt Urnash.

I do not have the data to back this up at all but it feels like I kinda stopped dreaming for most of the Trump presidency. And now I have started dreaming again.

It was one of those dreams where my father was back and we were just not talking about where he went during the time he’d been “dead”. I haven’t had one of those in a long time; this time he looked like someone else entirely and we weren’t talking about that yet either. Doing some rough calculations, this new person looked about as old as someone who’d been born around the time Russell died, so that’s kinda interesting.

Then I decided to go hunt for breakfast and wound up dodging the line into some kind of restaurant that took people and sat them together in groups wholly unrelated to any social units they may have been in when they got in line and I just slunk out of that and was suddenly outside a casino or something and I pulled out my phone to figure out where I was and it wasn’t very helpful and then I woke up.Maybe I should go back to sleep.

Mirrored from Egypt Urnash.