The Cool Side of the Pillow

(Once again, That Girl provides blogger fodder.)

Good Night

While I know I dream in color, most of the time it’s a sepia wash (like it’s always dusk or dawn).

In DreamLife, it’s the same place that almost all my dreams take place in; an entire city. I have a knowledge of where things are, where to go to get other places, structures denoting what area I’m in, how far it is to the waterfront, how many train stops it’ll take to get the the restaurant that I always want to take people to but has the wackiest hours thus no one believe that they have the best grouper. (note: have I ever even had grouper?)

It’s documented that I read in my dreams as well.

Sometimes, I don’t remember my dreams, but something during the next day sets off a trigger.

Often, my dreams are so vivid I can’t recall if something happened in real life or while I was dreaming.

RealLife often seeps into DreamLife. For example, when I worked for companies that sucked out my will to live, I would dream of vampires. And just this week, I dreamed that Annoyance was a closetalker because he was a zombie. When he opened his mouth to talk, it was a black chasm.

I keep a blank book and pen next to the bed, so when I have nightmares (often preventing me from getting a “good” sleep for days) I can write down what happened. Lately, I’ve taken to drawing maps/scenes/buildings.

back off sucka

Part of me thinks I’ve always had disturbing/vivid dreams and that’s why I don’t sleep very well.
However, the B-12 therapy has helped signficantly. Sure, I still don’t sleep well and I have borderline insane dreams, but it’s markedly better. Just wish someone would have noticed that before hand… on the plus side, is calms that voice in my head that’s been suggesting MS for years.
ANYWAY…

* Recurring Theme Dreams: Being unable to get where I need to go. Like the train is late, the door is closed, there’s traffic, blockages, places moving (this always happens in “The Mall”, I will have to get to Penny’s and it’s at the other end of the mall from where it was last time), staircases disappearing…

* Nightmarish Recurring Dream: Being chased and being unable to find my way out. Lately though, I’ve been dreaming that my teeth are loose and falling out.

* Recurring Character: Thugs. Just thugs in general, people making easy tasks difficult.

* Geeky Dream: I was Big Alice [in Wonderland] in a little bathroom.

* Non-sensical Dream: Emperior penguins nibbling at my fingers. Tin foil is the only thing that keeps them away.

* Disappointing Dream: Thinking I’m awake and making coffee and showering, only to realize I’ve slept through the alarm.
When I was a tween, I used to wake up in the middle of the night thinking it was time to wake up so I’d be in the shower at 3am.

* Naked Exam Day Dream: Often find myself topless at inappropitate times. But no one, including me, seems to care/notice that I’m not wearing a shirt.

I swear that someday my “Book of Death” (as Steve calls it… frightens him) will make me millions of dollars because truth is stranger than fiction.

Aspartame Withdraw: Night One Results

Steve and I are kidnapped (along with most of the county) and forced into these like, camps, to see who is strong-willed and strong-bodied enough to support the new country.
There were probably about 30 of us in our group and one by one, people stopped coming back.
The captors would test us to see who was true to the country and then show the results to everyone else.  For example, this one woman heard noises like a nightclub and she wanders into the club where she is trapped by a bear trap and dragged across the ceiling to whereever people like her end up.
Then there are about five of us left and we have to sleep under this tarp with no side walls and no heat.
Good behavior was rewarded, but we never knew what the perimeters for good behavior were or when one would get rewarded.
On the site, there was a general store and I convinced Steve to “buy” me a piece of fruit.  I say “buy” because you’d basically earn credits for items in the store and I didn’t have enough for fruit, but he did.  And “buying” items for people who shouldn’t get them was off-limits.
Steve walks up to the counter with what he wanted and my fruit, gives the clerk his name and ID number.  She looks to the other clerk and says  our last name again.  The second clerk says that Steve is scheduled for release and they cross-check a paper and they scamper off to see if he is getting released.
I walk up to the counter to see if my name is on the sheet and it’s not, but neither is Steve’s.  So I start wondering if the clerks knew he was buying for someone else and they were going to punish him/us.

And then the alarm goes off… rather it must have been going off for a while because by the time I heard it, it was ear-blisteringly loud.

Stephanie = Scatterbrain

Wow, I am seriously like, not mentally playing today.

Not only did I have weird dreams (thanks Tylenol PM!) about phonetically spelled, but unreasonable, baby names… although I know where that idea came from*, I over-slept, over-showered, thought I packed my lunch (and didn’t) and I have no cash as Steve and I went out for Cinco de Mayo drinks.

You know, because we’re both very spanish.  I even had Nachos.

A) I’m tired of the same things for lunch B) I feel like a jerk when I charge two dollars C) Nothing within a reasonable distance from the office is “healthy”.

* Dream: The baby in question was mine, with the common theme of being 7.5 months pregnant and not showing, feeling like I was missing out on something.  I delivered and blacked out and my mom named the baby Sarah, but spelled it Chyarah.  And I took the baby back to the hospital to change it’s name.  I’m holding this baby up to the nurses saying, “I didn’t name it Chyarah!  She’s supposed to be,” and I look over my shoulder to Steve and ask him what we decided to name the baby.

The phonetic part and the wrong name part came from a earlier conversations regarding baby names.  Plus, I watched the episode of Futurama where Kiff gets pregnant.

Dream Theatre

The details are a bit sketchy…

We end up at some weird bar, which given it’s location, should have been redneck. However, it ends up being some seedy urban club, complete with stripper poles; however, everyone was fully clothed.
Not even good poles, but horrid poles. For example, one was collapsible and had these huge seams in it (which can totally not be good for slides).
So this awful bar has a contest going. One part was improvised and the other part was the DJ calling out a while bunch of moves to see who can do what.
One of the women was really good and the other, excuse the prejudice, should not have even been on the pole due to her weight. The really good one could do all of these beautiful moves, like she was floating.
So we saddle up to the bar, and after a wait, we finally get served. I think we ordered four beers and two mixed drinks and it came up to five bucks.
Some guy comes up to me and tells me that I look like I should be up there, they pay attention to the people in the spots. Seeing as the last part of the comment didn’t make any sense to me, I stand up on the footrest of the barstool to see what he’s talking about. There are four circles, one at each corner of the stage, where the really good dancer keeps putting her feet and executing her moves.
The music changes and I ask the bartender if this is anything that we would like and she tells us no and that it’s best to downstairs. So we do. The basement looks like the basement of a guy I used to date and the seating area ends up being pretty much the same as the bedroom of the guy I used to date. I can hear the music through the floor.

And at some point, I ended up in a church, with a full on mass going on and I recall something coming over me (yeah, yeah, it was spiritual) and I was totally like, blissfully happy and I recall thinking that I was dying. There was a guy there from work who was holding my hand in a very “PRAISE!” way (not a “hey, whatcha doing later?” way). This is the only part of the dream that makes sense as the guy who was holding my hand is born again.

Steve left me because he thought I was cheating on him. When it happened, he was Steve in theory but he wasn’t Steve in looks or mannerisms. I don’t know who he looked like or who his demeanor resembled, but it wasn’t him. So we’re in this dumpy apartment (which for some reason, I think was in France) and I’m trying to find my way back to him to let him know that I in no way cheated on him. I can’t find my way around and there are doors everywhere. Meanwhile, I’m being chased by this guy who wants to get with me. So naturally, I have my suspicions that he’s the one who told Steve that I was cheating. I do not know who the other guy is. I kept going into all these rooms to try and find Steve and I did eventually find him, but he was so very very angry that I didn’t know who he was.

***
Right, so yeah.
There’s a couple reoccurring themes worth mentioning.
1) Every once in a while I dream about religious experiences. I often wake up thinking that I should either go to church (and I’m not catholic/Christian) or get back in touch with my spirituality.
2) I dream of losing Steve quite a bit.
3) Often when I visually lose Steve, I am in some kind of maze with lots of doors.
4) People in my dreams are often an angulation of people I know in real life. Usually Steve is Steve. In this set, the guy from work was 100% him and Steve was an angulation.

So, all of you dream interrupters, have a field day!

“That’s More Like it!” OR “Non-Nightmare, Hooray!”

Last night at 8:20, I concede and take a Tylenol PM.
By 10:15, I am blissfully asleep until around 2 or 4am (which is typical for me) and then I’m up at my regular time.
I feel 100% better today.

Dream:
I am part of a group that revamps debilitated building into usable space.  At least that’s what I think we do… there seems to be a lot of partying and running from the cops, but our intentions are seemingly good.  Like the opposite of Project Mayhem.
We’re on the top floor of one of the buildings that is in the city in all of my dreams and there’s no roof.  We’re going to turn it into condos, right after we get done drinking and having a good time.
There must be a hundred people there and everyone has a job.  For some reason the building, which is in crazy disrepair, has a working elevator (and escalator) and we’re on the 8th floor.  The look-out makes sure that no building inspectors/officials are coming.  If the elevator lights up, we’re to scatter (by taking the OTHER elevator or escalator) and gather as many materials as possible.
Well, wouldn’t you know, here come some officials.  I was busy partying, so I didn’t hear the alarm.  I am not able to make it to the elevator or escalator.  I am trying to hide behind half finished walls to no avail.  I finally slide down the escalator handrail and run out into the street.  There are no other tall buildings around and there’s really no place else to hide.
(Some things happen that I can’t remember)
I’m part of another group and we’ve finished a renovation.  Part of our deal is that we squat until we determine/plan our next project.
Naturally, we’re not supposed to be there and when the officials come to inspect, I am  pretending that I am an adult toy (if you know what I mean), hoping the officials won’t kick me.  They leave and the rest of the group comes from hiding.  We all go back to our respective beds to finish sleeping when one of the renovators starts up an air compressor which ends up loosening up all the rebar and it comes shooting out of the walls, effectively killing all of my competition.
(Some things I can’t remember)
I am stupid wicked successful; leading an urban renewal group.  I am well-known and well-liked.  I have power, money, minions.  I can get away with anything and I do.

See, that’s more like it.
Is it anymore realistic then my nightmares?  Hell no.  But at least I’m not running around scared (the entire time) or naked.
I feel empowered this morning.

Okay Bob, I got the message.

The past couple of nights, I’ve been having upsetting/frustrating dreams.
Last night was no exception.

It is not a secret that I HATED high school (what, like 10 years ago, whatever).  HATED.  LAMENTED.  DESPISED.  I would often mope around, commenting, “If these are the best years of my life, I am fucked.”  You get the gist of it.
I can’t really put my finger on exactly why I hated it so much, but I know a big part of it was my “major” and “teacher”.
Okay, I’ll explain that and then the dream will make more sense.
When I was 11, I was transferred to a Smrt Kids School where I met a very wonderful teacher who would foster my curiosity about music.  I took up a number of instruments, included but not limited to: clarinet, bass clarinet, alto clarinet (still one of my favorite sounds), trumpet, flute, trombone, violin (that didn’t last) and finally saxophone.  I had always loved the sax and I finally got the chance to play one.  I taught myself over a the summer between sixth and seventh grade.
I was good.  Damn good.
I did state contests and placed.  I had high scores in the quartet divison…  For 8th grade graduation, my parents purchased me a tenor sax and I named it Bob.
So I decided that I wanted to play saxophone for a living  (“How Silly!” 1997 Stephanie would say to 1992 Stephanie) and I auditioned for the Peforming Arts High School.  Remember the show “Fame”?  Yup, that’s exactly what it was like.  I got accepted.
It wasn’t until my senior year (and many talks with the principal) that the instrumental teacher finally learned that my name was NOT “Stacy Yuk”; which was not even close to my real name, BTW.
For a long while, I was the only girl in the sax section and (I think) because I wasn’t in Jazz Band, I got the crappiest instruments and was placed in third chair.  (By tradition, Seniors got first chair, regardless of ability).  I had my own horn but it wasn’t feasable to carry it to and from school… seeing as the case is about 2/3’s my size.
Sometime around Spring of my freshman year, I had grown tired of playing.  I did not look forward to band.  Sure, I had done musicals and even tried Dixieland (holy hell, that was a nightmare).
The displeasure grew and festered until my senior year when I activly counted down the days until graduation.  My instructor didn’t care about me and I certianly didn’t care for him.  I did what I had to do to graduate.

So now you have the background.

In my dream last night, I’m back in hell high school but as 2008Stephanie.  I enter the theatre though the balcony door (which was reseved for orchestra members only) and see that there are four music stands and chairs.  I have Bob with me and we take a seat.  I open my case, assemble Bob and start warming up.  Then my evil teacher enters.  He tries to give me a trumpet score (as trumpets and tenors are in the same key) and I tell him that I am a saxophone player and he needs to give me saxophone music.
So he does.  And it’s a for a C-tuned sax (tenors are tuned to Bb) (Soprano saxes are tuned to C and ET played soprano) (hmmmm).
Now I have to transpose between keys, which was another stumbling point in the day, and I can’t do it in my head.  Especially at the tempo of which the piece was going.  Bob’s honking and squeeking and the notes aren’t making sense and all I want to do is play.  Just play.  Show him that I can.  That I’m better then him.  That he didn’t break me (which he did).
After practice, I take my score and painstakingly transpose the score so I can read it.  But I hid it in the C-tuned score.
All I end up doing is embarrasing myself and running out of the balcony.

So this morning I purchased four theory/technique/training books from half.com
Point taken.
Now stop with the nightmares.

People from “The Other Side”, if you need assistance, please dial 0

Not sure if it’s a side effect from the medication, but I’ve been having these remarkably vivid dreams.
Theses dreams aren’t anything of importance (it’s not like my subconscious is telling me how to cure cancer, though it’d be nice if it would) but they’re set in the same city/structures that I’ve been dreaming of my entire life.
What’s weirder yet is that I remember my dreams RIGHT when I wake up, but as soon as I roll over or wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth, I draw a blank on what happened.  This is new as I used to be able to remember my dreams for hours, days even.  The other other weird aspect is how I’ll be doing something later in the day (or even a few days later) and I’ll have like this, flashback, of something I dreamed.  Not an entire dream, but just a piece.  And when I’m waking up, I’m falling back into the dream, which is something I wasn’t fully able to do before.
Some of the dreams are reoccurring, some are new, but overall, I wonder what I’m trying to tell me.

Recent Flashback: … in the basement of the house and someone wants to get into the hidden rooms where the children used to play.  I try to stop them because I know that the spirits of the dead children do not want to be disturbed.  The people/person opens the secret door and loudly enters the room, insisting that everything electronic, working or not, be plugged in…
(this “playroom” was in another dream, but was located in someplace more along the line of Chuck E. Cheese)
(this house has been in dreams before)
(This part of the dream also happened before, but in reverse)

It’s not that I don’t like dreaming and I’m not getting frustrated in my dreams like I did before, but like, what I am supposed to get from them? And WHAT is up with the flashbacks?!?