dream fuzz

Sometimes I have absolutely no dreams and those occasions are almost always but for a few nighttime anomalies when my dreams are colourful, rampant in their realness and sometimes delicious even, as was the case last night or maybe during the very early hours of the morning.

It was the most romantic and violent dream, both factors absolutely not intertwined and different parts of the dream plot.

The romance in question was not a lusting passionate affair of naked writhing bodies but in fact, a very warm butterfly in the stomach inducing initial attraction, that irresistible infatuation ridden with anxiety and a desperate wish to see the other person kind of affair.

And the violence that seemed to be the main theme of the dream, took place in jungles which had me wearing cargo pants, combat boots with a plain white tee (an attire reminiscent from college times when that was what I often wore during autumn months) touting a weapon which was a sort of laser emitting flame thrower and there was gut-churning gore, mad ambushes, booby traps, rippling hearts and spleens falling out of broken bodies, blood spurting like a waterfall from dying men painting the jungle red and a moment later blood speckled faces coming face to face in a kiss.

There was a chair for one on whom sat two people, it might have been me because only the back was visible and the hair had that voluminous wavy quality wrapped in a hug, a ludicrously warm mouth touching my face; that my head was in an enraptured loop of exciting tizzy would be putting it mildly because every second was so real.

The fear and the frenzy both so palpable I could taste it, and imagine the heartbreaking reality of it all being a dream.

stress nights

It's history exam tomorrow and I have only just started studying a night before.
Don't worry I tell myself, I'll study the tedious notes I've made which are precise, concise and efficient but there's an entire syllabus to be done and I've no time, moreover, the notes in question aren't just a couple pages but a couple hundred and the subjects as varied as socio-economic structure of ancient Indus civilization to phallus worship and its impact on agricultural norms (?) whatever on earth that is and I screen the fat copy inked with paragraphs and flowcharts and that's when I realize what a huge mistake I've made.
How silly of me to start studying something so vast just a day before and now my knees turn weak as I sweat bullets because it's night, the exam is tomorrow morning and I'm already sleepy.
What d I do now, what? I'm disappointed, afraid and that's when the convulsions begin which wake me right up and out of the bed I leap, grappling for my phone in the dark to check the time and start studying so  I know at least to write one correct sentence but wait!
What am I doing? Slowly the room begins to creep out of shadows.
The birds are only beginning to chirp. It's still dark out and I mop my brow that is sweating.
There's no exam. Of course, there isn't. I am panting.
In fact, there's no more exam, ever. I exhale relieved.
I'm not even in school. A smile lights up my face.
That was just a very real dream. I laugh and go back to sleep.

dreams ajar

Sunday nights, as a rule, have been mostly spent lying awake, waiting for sleep to commence my descent into a delicious abyss that forever awaits for its unpunctual nightly guest that's me and so there are dreams, thrown up from the void to assure me that I'm fast asleep.

One such from last night or was it this morning had me visit someone from a very long time whose name I can't even seem to recall and there was a house in which she lived along with others whom memory evades and they had a bathroom which had a bucket blue in colour full of water and sewing needles.

'But there are needles as the bottom of this water.' I'd exclaimed and they'd made an unsurprised face that relayed so what?

'oh we know' they'd said ' but can't be bothered to get them out' and so I scooped one by one, all of them and counted them to be hundred, telling them it's not a feat but a matter of moments to keep yourselves from getting hurt, 'look here they are, keep them someplace you'll remember' I'd said and so they flung it back into the bucket, who cares they'd said and because I did, I exited that house not before exclaiming it was a pathetic little hellhole, wearily unkempt and disgustingly unsanitary to which they seemed surprised and banned me from their surroundings.

And so I woke up, wondering at what I'd seen. Why would anyone live with a bucket of water with sewing needles thrown in?

delirium dream machine

Say one thing about sleeping, say you only realise the repercussions of sleeping at an odd angle where you've tucked your head painfully sideways in the morning.
To say that I woke up with a crick in my neck and strained shoulder would be an understatement because the moment I was awake I was aware of my most unfortunate selection of bedtime posture, that put all the strain on my poor neck because I woke up on my belly and my neck positioned sideways, which put all my weight on the neck, straining it and causing a bit of hurt that only makes itself known when I turn my neck to my right.
Most horrible this, added to that a sleep fitful and conjoined with a tapestry of ridiculous dreams that mostly verged on the dreadful.
In one I saw the advancement of a malevolent Godzilla trying to tear apart the city I lived in, and my family boarding an aeroplane in hopes to get out, and I behind them, trying to warn them and plead with them to get off the plane, when the obviously stressed out pilot didn't even wait for the doors to close and took off and it was with much argument that I was able to convince the pilot to land instead of flying seeing how the monster was near the airport and he'd only have to extend a limb to crush the aircraft, after which I took my parents to an underground metro station that would stay away from the influence of passing destruction.
This dream so disquieting and exasperatingly real in its real-time feel of falling in a shaky plane compounded with the fear of trying to keep my family safe in a city rundown with fear and annihilation broke me into chunks of sweat. I was running through, sweating, screaming, trying to push my parents out of falling towers and crumbling concrete and basically just trying to keep clear of havoc, watching missiles fly over my head only to disappear like flies on the reptilian skin of the insanely huge monster.
Gah! that's a dream I could do without, and promptly after waking up to that ghastly dream, I was asleep again, dreaming of being in a place that I didn't know of, living in that uncertain mode where I wasn't sure how to go about my life. Roaming the streets with a huge bag I had no place to stay and suddenly I was in a classroom where I'd be asked about my previous grades, knowing full well I never attended any other class previously I was worried haggard of the uncertainty that was sure to plague me, I was awake again!
Phew!
Finally some more dreams, ones I can't recall, but not the most pleasant ones and all overlapping each other to the point it goaded me to get rid of them by opening my eyes to a morning most cold. The dreams steadily leaching out of my body, slowly in colourful hues of forgetfulness, some stayed stuck to my head, some like syrup oozed out into my heart and some I flicked with the merest wince of my neck..and now..well..here we are.

dreams a gogo

Say one thing about dreams, say you cannot top their weirdness.

Dreamt with picture perfect quality that I was traversing the dishonourable grounds of a McDonalds, and not just any ol' McDonald's but one that was as large as an entire mall. Yeah, it was a mall of burger hell with hundreds of counters for placing orders.
I was accompanied by what seemed to be my daughter, I think, because I addressed her as my daughter, except she was as old as me, or maybe in my dreams I didn't look old enough to be a mom.

I walked in, left my bag on a chair and walked over to a counter to place orders and what I clearly ordered was a 'jumble berry crumble', which apparently McDonald's did have along with a wrap of some sorts which they didn't. So just a crumble it was and my daughter ordered a Japanese curry rice and another 'jumble berry crumble'.
I reached for my bag to make payments and realized that I'd left it on a chair and asked my daughter to bring it to me, but she whipped out a credit card of her own and handed it to the cashier.
The cashier in return stared at the card because it was pink and round? and suddenly she was informed by the manager that they had begun accepting these cards and the payments were made.

I was handed some receipt and informed that my order would arrive in a while, but then I noticed large glass covered shelves housing a lot of different foods and I strolled over to those isles to check them out and saw people filling their plates while commuting on segways.
I couldn't make head or tails of it because I had no means of travelling in McDonald's mall and felt angered at the thought.

With just the last glimpse of me looking for segways I let myself jolt into a surprised wakefulness and for the longest time kept wondering if I was really awake or still in the dream.

Dreams a doozy

A series of scary dreams that were somehow pleasant: 

In was living on a stretch of land, inlaid with beautiful sandstone tiles, and I don't think there was a house apart from the couple stairs that formed the entire stretch of brown and red floor. 

The beauty of this place was that it was right next to the ocean, and when I say right next, I mean if I walked down the two stairs, I'd be standing on sea rocks and the waves would stealthily wet my feet. 

 One day while chatting with some people (no doubt my family?) sitting on the stairs, looking at the sea, I suddenly saw the sea begin to billow and become strangely gigantic. It started throwing up enormous waves. 

Every minute the waves that formed in front of us would stand to such heights, as if it were a wall, and then come crashing down on the rocks, without ever reaching us. 

Each new wave assumed a more gargantuan stance than the last and crashed with a deafening spasm against the rocks, spattering the word with saline showers. 

I was taking pictures. Repeatedly. 

Then this one wave, it looked so large as to engulf the skies, and stood there for a a minute, before falling..breaking into dewy smithereens and disappearing into its watery bed. 

Seemed like it was a stationary tsunami, cuz the waves never reached my stretch of land. 

This dream was so real, each wave that I saw was so glossy with azure blue and bottle green water, that I almost reached out to touch it. 

I actually checked my phone to see if there were any pictures. 

Hah! 

I couldn't believe it were a dream, and oh how disappointed I was to wake up on my usually bed of creased sheets instead of the tar black rocks. 

Dreams

The skies were blue, splattered with a sheet of clouds and I whipped out my phone to click pictures, but the taxi I was in turned around a bend, and suddenly the beautiful blue sky was greatly overwhelmed by a gigantic arena like a colosseum of extraordinarily tall buildings, with gigantic antennas protruding from their roofs. 

These weren't residential buildings, in fact they didn't even have an entry or exit door. 

They were more like gargantuan sensors, with a million tiny Windows, distributed without any pattern. 

Like huge concrete batteries standing in a Herculean circle, transmitting signals of a thousand kinds, for everything, to everyone.

They were so enormous, they dwarfed the skies. 

As the taxi moved ahead, there were more buildings in view. 

This time huge pantheon sized domed buildings.

 Not one, but a series of oversized, elephantine residential buildings, with gold coloured mammoth domes, and terra cotta stone goth structures. Supported by vast brownstone pillars, these residential buildings were immensely dense. 

One after the other; something of an enormous stadium of vast buildings, one behind the other. 

They covered the entire dreamscape. 

I could see them so clearly, like they were plastered inside my retinas, like I were staring at murals through a magnifying lense.

It was so incredibly grand that my mind couldn't register the stupendous scope of this dream and woke me up.

Oh sigh, I lost those images, but couldn't forget them. 

 

Dawnmare

In the early hours of dawn, just before waking up, I was struck by this nightmare.

I was at a house party with some friends, and I could hear water overflowing some place. 

It distracted me so, that I followed the sound and reached a bathroom where a decapitated torso of a woman lay in the bathtub. The water from an overhead tap was overflowing from the tub, and the body was floating. 

I took its pictures from my phone, and realized that the light wasn't right. So I proper her head in one hand and started taking pictures again. I could feel her dead wet hair, and once I was convinced I'd good pictures, I kept the phone on a platform, and suddenly the dead woman was standing in front of me, laughing. 

She snatched the phone and started looking at her pictures.

I was bewildered and angry..and tried to pry my phone away from her hands but she wouldn't relent and kept laughing. 

I was scared frozen and suddenly realized that the phone was still on the platform, the woman lay dead in the tub. 

I'd just had a nightmare in a nightmare..inceptioned myself silly and woke up.  

Dreams

A large part of my dream was in comic panels. there was rorschach and the comedian in my room and they were staring at their feet? perhaps we were in an elevator?

Next scene, I was staring into a mirror, and a woman standing behind me asked me for a lipstick and specified if I had the particular shade called 'Goaest Goa' which surprisingly I did. A Deep Crimson colour. 

A man can running towards me cuz I was embroiled in a fight with some people, on the edge of a roof. All I had were kitchen knives which I'd sharpened the previous night before, and I kept flinging them at those men. They'd catch them in the chest vertically, the sharp edge slicing into their flesh and stayed attached there, a man slashed at my wrist, and the skin tore apart to reveal no blood but a black and white design. 

I stretched the opposite ends of the skin till it was a big gash, and there was a drawing of a building inside. I was bewildered just wondering where all the blood went. 

Showed this wound to a man who had a pretentious tattoo on his chest, and he said I'd made it on my own. 

That upset me and I complained to my mom, but she only told me to get along with him, cuz he was my new dad? Wtf? My brother didn't like him much either. 

I went to the balcony that had red roses and the entire floor was strewn with white petals, and I thought it was a mosque. 

Suddenly I was told to stand clear because this huge board that contained dangerous pellets had been fired and that I was in the way. 

I stood to one side on the edge of the terrace and the pellets that it started shooting were actually marbles used in Chinese chequers. 

----

Blessed was my morning, many times over. Repeatedly, until each little story, intonation and sentence was a part of me.
How about a poem?

Kettles that bubble with boiling water while spouting steam.

I've been in a sort of boxed haze. Packing is more tiring than running a marathon. You can't begin to realize when, how and where did you end up amassing so much stuff that needs a hundred odd boxes. 

Boxes for everything. For tiny knick knacks and cutesy kitch stuff to utensils and bedding..and don't even get me started on clothes. So many clothes and all I've been wearing is sweat pants and a tee for the past couple days. 

Everything's almost done, and if all goes well then tomorrow we shall spirit away to Shanghai in afternoon. 'If all goes well' being the keyword, because my kitchen is still to get packed..and my bicycles are yet to be dismantled and packed. 

I'm no hoarder and it's not funny the amount of stuff that's been a part of discarded boxes. 

Shoes that no longer look good, crockery that's lost its sheen, cutlery that's lost its charm, bottles that've lost their caps and clothes that no longer fit or just don't feel right anymore. 

So much apple junk! Gah, what a lot of useless silver gadgets with shiny screens.  A mistake I mean to rectify over the coming time. I shall soon be a window convert or at least anything that isn't apple. 

I'd the weirdest dream: that I was cycling in a narrow carpeted corridor after solving linear equations that's didn't even look like linear equations. 

Oddball dreams

Retaining dreams is an alien work of fiction for my system, but some dreams do end up sticking around for a matter of few moments because they're so stupidly bizzarre they jolt the living sleep out of you. 

So this dream I had, sometime around morning and uh I mean what? 

Dream: I was all set for watching the new 'sex and the city movie' and halfway through I realize it's a zombie flick. The four female lead characters are getting embroiled in relationships with men who turn out to be zombies and end up hacking the girls to pieces. All through this the  four female protagonists continue having their usual conversation on fashion, shopping, shoes and men with all the witty banter and quirky innuendoes. 

I can't get over how weirdly normal they are with their skulls split open oozing brain matter, stomachs slashed in places to reveal spleens and arms barely hanging to their shoulders. 

They end up killing the zombie men and go about their day totally broken and bleeding and bitching about it. 

And I'm so scared cuz they're having conversations with me and discussing the newest range of Manolo Blahniks while I'm breaking in cold sweat thinking of all the zombies that are out and about and In fact at some point start thinking that these women might have turned into one too..so I make a break for it and run down a house using stairs..and I climb down stairs jumping one flight at a time. I mean really, and the girls are shouting for me to come back upstairs because there might be zombies out on the prowl, and in fact I see one walking towards me in a hot pink couture and now I'm confused, so confused that I woke up. 

Phew, back to reality in my warm duvet and a sudden realization that I'm sort of sweating..not because of the dream but because the weather is a bit warmer now.

lovehate ugh.

My entire night was a Baz Luhrmanesque dream sequence. It was bigger than life, gaudily colourful and full of musical numbers..and if that wasn't enough, there was an entire scene dedicated to freudian conversation amongst people I know and some I don't about some past happenings of my life that I didn't think I'd ever divulge even if I were set on fire..on my pyre..but there it was..stark naked and freely discussed, while I stood there sheepish..waiting for someone to get mad at me, and somehow everyone looked so extremely sane and rational without the slightest hint of anger or even raised voices.
What was going on? Everything seemed so free and happy and yet somehow creepy. I wanted to be a part of it, but kept taking a step back.
It's like I know what's good for me, and yet I don't freely give in to it, because I know how much it will hurt. Stupid hurt, that which can't be seen..only felt; the pain of which is so searing I know it'd tear me apart..and I have not the will to in me to push it away.
Ah but look what it's really caused. Fear, paranoia, stress..so much so that I fell physically sick and still recuperating, and keep relapsing time and again.
The best part is I know, just like I did I my dream that getting out of it would do me a world of good. It'd stop the anxiety, the stress, kill the fear and extinguish my paranoia..but no. I gain nothing submerged in this quagmire (oh this lovely quagmire) except happiness that I believe is happiness. To me it is. It's the invisible warmth, unseen unreal love..all of which belongs to me..none whatsoever is mine to claim.

ugh.

Snowed in dreams

It has ceased to rain and begun to snow, and I can't even..

Nights and dreams are an oddball team of malicious intents. 

they dip into the ancient archives of buried history stowed away in the darkest folds of your subconscious. Memories that you'd kicked into the dingiest most secretive corner in the vain hopes that they'd never be found again. Hoping they'd melt into nothing the same way a stray ice cube does, when you carelessly kick it under the refrigerator. 

Not only are these sizzling bits of regrettable moments found, but they're also played in cinemascopic dream HD with a clarity that trumps the most sophisticated 4K television, in crystal clear diamond hue, plastered across your eyes, while you see in 3D, those glaring mistakes you couldn't that moment ever find. 

Oh how the dreams cook up a melange of all your moments so deplorable in hindsight, that you've winced and worked hard to forget..and lo they regurgitate in a sewage rainbow of all night dreams..so real, they jolt you awake, and you heave a sigh of relief that none of it was real. It's all gone now..but you're sweating in a weather that's almost iceberg cozy..and you hate that you remember all that you'd pretended to forget, and like a lovely midnight sadist you try to remember it all again, clutching your blankets with sweaty palms. 

You know what the dream was about but can't remember it, think hard and it slips  further, like trying to balance a drop of mercury on your fingertips. The plot is hazy, but you know the script by heart ..a soft mumble to yourself followed by uneasy burrowing under sheets, a billion toss and turns and a silent prayer for an odd nightmare that can make you forget this dream.