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Sunday, October 10, 2010
The Detail of a Duo
Detailed two cars: a black Honda Accord and a gold Volkswagen Passat. Took about 8 hours to wash, clay bar, polish, and wax both cars. Need a car detailed? I charge $40 a car plus materials.
Click each image to view a larger image.
Click each image to view a larger image.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Septoplasty Surgery
So on August 19th, 2010; I had septoplasty and turbonite reduction surgery. I will start with a log of the last four days.
August 19th, 2010
I arrive at the hospital at 9:00 am to check in. Check in was quick and I am quickly in a backless robe awaiting surgery. An IV is installed in my arm and I sprayed some decongestant in each nostril. The worst part up to this point is that I am dying of thirst and the nose spray is dripping down my throat and causing irritation. I wait until about 10:15 am and my number is up. I am wheeled into the OR where my anesthesiologist asks me to breath deeply as she adds a drug to my IV, which I do.
I woke up at approximately 12:00 in the recovery room with a swatch of gauze under my nose thirsty as all hell. A nurse hands me a small cup of ice, which I devour nearly immediately. I feel great, actually. 8 of 10. Another 20 minutes of recovery and I am out of the hospital feeling fine.
Later in the day around 2:00 pm I get a pretty bad headache and just focus on the movie I happen to be watching. Headache subsides around 5:00 pm, or about 30 minutes after I take a few vicodin.
All in all the first day was pretty good. Changed gauze about every; oh, hour'ish with laughter stating how I was on my period. Bleeding mostly stopped around 9:00 pm when I passed out... Note the picture I look pretty groggy and some blood is coming out of the nose.
August 20th, 2010
I wake up early and feel fine, lets say another 8 of 10. Slept surprisingly good considering I had to sleep on my back and first night after surgery.
Nose is stuffy and only in minor pain. I spray some saline up each nostril and reapply some gauze. Of course, now that I am sitting up and not laying down I can feel the liquids oozing on the gauze again. I take my pills, which consist of steroids, antibiotics, and of course vicodin. I eat some food and sit down to some need for speed: shift. Yes, I feel good enough to play video games; perhaps I should have went to work?
Luckily I didn't go to work. I change the gauze approximately every 2-3 hours and it actually is pretty bloody. Not a good thing for work. Regular maintenance of pills, using saline spray, and using gauze and I am good all day long.
August 21st, 2010
Not much to report. One thing that happened the night before was after I took two corticosteroids for the inflammation. I was hearing all sorts of voices and could not understand the language that was spoken. This morning I looked at the side effects and low-and-behold a side effect is psychosis and/or psychotic episodes. Fantastic.
Bleeding; however, has completely stopped. My nose is just dry and the saline helps clear some crusted and dried blood. Pain is minor but only comes about when I need to take vicodin. This could just be a sign of dependency though so I take Tylenol instead. Pretty relaxing day I just watch movies, had a few visitors, and played some video games.
August 22nd, 2010
I feel great today. My nose is stuffy and dry just like yesterday. Lots of energy today not drowsy at all. Nose is not bleeding at all still and I don't need to have gauze on my nose. Breathing is stuffy at best. The nose is clear and I can see the stints. Looking forward to getting those out.
Proof that I feel great; I completely rearranged my living room today, swept and mopped, watered the plants, did the dishes, and dusted the apartment. I may go to work tomorrow. Note the picture as my nose is pretty darn clear and I can actually breath partially okay out of it.
August 23rd, 2010
Feeling okay today. Sinus pressure around 1:30 pm giving me a headache. Leaning head forward, back, or side-to-side causes pressure to sway. Pressure; however, is manageable and not really an issue.
August 24th, 2010
Woke up with a very stuffed up nose. I realized I have not used a nasal rinsing kit since August 22nd and really should again. So I use the kit anticipating that it would be pretty disgusting. Boy, was I ever right! Long strings of crusted blood came out. Just a warning in case anybody reads this before getting the surgery. You will see anything that has ever been in or passed through your nose come out. To quote a review of a product I read many years ago, "At one point I even saw Jimmy Hoffa go by."
So I feel fine now. Completely cut out Vicodin the other day and am not taking Tylenol or any other painkilling meds at all. So... I suppose that means the pain is pretty minor. Just like yesterday; however, I still feel some pressure. Less than yesterday though so maybe the cleaning helped that out. Also, I wish I would have known this before, try to stock up on juices and fruits or something. If you are clever or witty than you know what I mean.
August 25th, 2010
First day back to work. The day went well but the nose was stuffed up pretty good. Of course, I used to get a stuffy nose just going to work anyway and would generally only sneeze at work due to paper dust and other minuscule air pollutants. Slight pressure all day. No big deal I would say a 1 of 10 on the annoying/pain scale. Just barely noticeable but not gone entirely. Minor sinus headache also all day; again maybe a 1 of 10.
Tomorrow is the day to get stints and stitches removed. Looking forward to it and will keep this post updated. Until next time!
August 26th, 2010
Today I got the stints/stitches out and my good gravy lord what a miraculous difference it is! I feel that I could breath in the world, the sun, and yes even the planet Pluto! Even better news is that the doc said within a week or so it will get even better once everything really heals and de-crusts; I know, gross right? Well, either way gross or not, I can breathe I would say quite honestly I can breathe through my nose about four times better. Was it worth the vacation time from work, the surgery and downtime? Well so far at day seven I say yes!
I will likely not post daily logs at this point perhaps in a week, a month, first quarter after I meet with the doc again, and then next year! Very quick, relatively painless, and worthwhile procedure. I do suggest it to anybody that needs it!
August 19th, 2010
I arrive at the hospital at 9:00 am to check in. Check in was quick and I am quickly in a backless robe awaiting surgery. An IV is installed in my arm and I sprayed some decongestant in each nostril. The worst part up to this point is that I am dying of thirst and the nose spray is dripping down my throat and causing irritation. I wait until about 10:15 am and my number is up. I am wheeled into the OR where my anesthesiologist asks me to breath deeply as she adds a drug to my IV, which I do.
I woke up at approximately 12:00 in the recovery room with a swatch of gauze under my nose thirsty as all hell. A nurse hands me a small cup of ice, which I devour nearly immediately. I feel great, actually. 8 of 10. Another 20 minutes of recovery and I am out of the hospital feeling fine.Later in the day around 2:00 pm I get a pretty bad headache and just focus on the movie I happen to be watching. Headache subsides around 5:00 pm, or about 30 minutes after I take a few vicodin.
All in all the first day was pretty good. Changed gauze about every; oh, hour'ish with laughter stating how I was on my period. Bleeding mostly stopped around 9:00 pm when I passed out... Note the picture I look pretty groggy and some blood is coming out of the nose.
August 20th, 2010
I wake up early and feel fine, lets say another 8 of 10. Slept surprisingly good considering I had to sleep on my back and first night after surgery.
Nose is stuffy and only in minor pain. I spray some saline up each nostril and reapply some gauze. Of course, now that I am sitting up and not laying down I can feel the liquids oozing on the gauze again. I take my pills, which consist of steroids, antibiotics, and of course vicodin. I eat some food and sit down to some need for speed: shift. Yes, I feel good enough to play video games; perhaps I should have went to work?
Luckily I didn't go to work. I change the gauze approximately every 2-3 hours and it actually is pretty bloody. Not a good thing for work. Regular maintenance of pills, using saline spray, and using gauze and I am good all day long.
August 21st, 2010
Not much to report. One thing that happened the night before was after I took two corticosteroids for the inflammation. I was hearing all sorts of voices and could not understand the language that was spoken. This morning I looked at the side effects and low-and-behold a side effect is psychosis and/or psychotic episodes. Fantastic.
Bleeding; however, has completely stopped. My nose is just dry and the saline helps clear some crusted and dried blood. Pain is minor but only comes about when I need to take vicodin. This could just be a sign of dependency though so I take Tylenol instead. Pretty relaxing day I just watch movies, had a few visitors, and played some video games.
August 22nd, 2010I feel great today. My nose is stuffy and dry just like yesterday. Lots of energy today not drowsy at all. Nose is not bleeding at all still and I don't need to have gauze on my nose. Breathing is stuffy at best. The nose is clear and I can see the stints. Looking forward to getting those out.
Proof that I feel great; I completely rearranged my living room today, swept and mopped, watered the plants, did the dishes, and dusted the apartment. I may go to work tomorrow. Note the picture as my nose is pretty darn clear and I can actually breath partially okay out of it.
August 23rd, 2010
Feeling okay today. Sinus pressure around 1:30 pm giving me a headache. Leaning head forward, back, or side-to-side causes pressure to sway. Pressure; however, is manageable and not really an issue.
August 24th, 2010
Woke up with a very stuffed up nose. I realized I have not used a nasal rinsing kit since August 22nd and really should again. So I use the kit anticipating that it would be pretty disgusting. Boy, was I ever right! Long strings of crusted blood came out. Just a warning in case anybody reads this before getting the surgery. You will see anything that has ever been in or passed through your nose come out. To quote a review of a product I read many years ago, "At one point I even saw Jimmy Hoffa go by."
So I feel fine now. Completely cut out Vicodin the other day and am not taking Tylenol or any other painkilling meds at all. So... I suppose that means the pain is pretty minor. Just like yesterday; however, I still feel some pressure. Less than yesterday though so maybe the cleaning helped that out. Also, I wish I would have known this before, try to stock up on juices and fruits or something. If you are clever or witty than you know what I mean.
August 25th, 2010
First day back to work. The day went well but the nose was stuffed up pretty good. Of course, I used to get a stuffy nose just going to work anyway and would generally only sneeze at work due to paper dust and other minuscule air pollutants. Slight pressure all day. No big deal I would say a 1 of 10 on the annoying/pain scale. Just barely noticeable but not gone entirely. Minor sinus headache also all day; again maybe a 1 of 10.
Tomorrow is the day to get stints and stitches removed. Looking forward to it and will keep this post updated. Until next time!
August 26th, 2010
Today I got the stints/stitches out and my good gravy lord what a miraculous difference it is! I feel that I could breath in the world, the sun, and yes even the planet Pluto! Even better news is that the doc said within a week or so it will get even better once everything really heals and de-crusts; I know, gross right? Well, either way gross or not, I can breathe I would say quite honestly I can breathe through my nose about four times better. Was it worth the vacation time from work, the surgery and downtime? Well so far at day seven I say yes!
I will likely not post daily logs at this point perhaps in a week, a month, first quarter after I meet with the doc again, and then next year! Very quick, relatively painless, and worthwhile procedure. I do suggest it to anybody that needs it!
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Deja Vu Houses
Recurring houses. Recurring breaking and entering. Recurring faux par. What is going on?
The setting is always early morning around 2:30 am. The moon is always full imparting a dim light. However, the clouds are thin and wispy yet cover the sky streaking across the moon. The house is a single story ranch style house. A mid-size river lazily scrolls by maybe forty or fifty feet from the house. The house covers a large plot of land and may possibly contain four or five bedrooms.
The only differences between dreams is how and why I am breaking and entering into the house. At times I paddle on a boat to the dock but this time I am coming over a hill to the house. The time I came by boat I was seeking refuge from the zombie apocalypse. This time; however, I am dressed in tight military clothes with weaponry attempting to take the house from occupation.
I crawl down from the hill very slowly and quietly. Once I get to the back door I sit up and rest on one knee. I double-check my light assault rifle and ammunition. The back door is a slider made of rice-paper. A quick shift to open the door a crack and I notice a camera sliding across the roof. I wait for the camera to turn to make another pass through the house and reach up to yank it down. A fast sleight of hand and the camera lay at my feet with dangling wires from the roof.
I slip in and shut the paper door softly and slowly. This room houses a large safe-style door that is the entry-way to the control room of the entire facility. I don't know how I know this but I do. I confidently walk lightly towards the door and attempt to crack the lock. Red lights and a low drone ring out from speakers. Busted!
Through the door comes a faceless man. A quick tap of the trigger reflex and the body is a slump on the ground. I decide to cheese it and jump through the rice paper door. Past my ears I can feel the ripple of the air. I am being shot at. A sudden burst of my legs and I displace and tumble to my right. I roll to my back and am able to pound a few 5.56 rounds into the chest of a figure on the roof. To my side I remember I packed a few grenades; smoke grenades. I pop three of them open and scatter them in my general area. I run up the hill; low and sleek. I turn around to notice confusion and hysteria in the smoke and around the house.
I wake to a sensation of deja vu. I come to this same house time after time and find myself escaping each time. Zombies overran the complex, samurai mutants occupied the ranch and ran me out, this time military personnel.
What does it mean? Recurring theme, environment, and hostilities; I concede to this one. I do not have the faintest idea...
The setting is always early morning around 2:30 am. The moon is always full imparting a dim light. However, the clouds are thin and wispy yet cover the sky streaking across the moon. The house is a single story ranch style house. A mid-size river lazily scrolls by maybe forty or fifty feet from the house. The house covers a large plot of land and may possibly contain four or five bedrooms.
The only differences between dreams is how and why I am breaking and entering into the house. At times I paddle on a boat to the dock but this time I am coming over a hill to the house. The time I came by boat I was seeking refuge from the zombie apocalypse. This time; however, I am dressed in tight military clothes with weaponry attempting to take the house from occupation.
I crawl down from the hill very slowly and quietly. Once I get to the back door I sit up and rest on one knee. I double-check my light assault rifle and ammunition. The back door is a slider made of rice-paper. A quick shift to open the door a crack and I notice a camera sliding across the roof. I wait for the camera to turn to make another pass through the house and reach up to yank it down. A fast sleight of hand and the camera lay at my feet with dangling wires from the roof.
I slip in and shut the paper door softly and slowly. This room houses a large safe-style door that is the entry-way to the control room of the entire facility. I don't know how I know this but I do. I confidently walk lightly towards the door and attempt to crack the lock. Red lights and a low drone ring out from speakers. Busted!
Through the door comes a faceless man. A quick tap of the trigger reflex and the body is a slump on the ground. I decide to cheese it and jump through the rice paper door. Past my ears I can feel the ripple of the air. I am being shot at. A sudden burst of my legs and I displace and tumble to my right. I roll to my back and am able to pound a few 5.56 rounds into the chest of a figure on the roof. To my side I remember I packed a few grenades; smoke grenades. I pop three of them open and scatter them in my general area. I run up the hill; low and sleek. I turn around to notice confusion and hysteria in the smoke and around the house.
I wake to a sensation of deja vu. I come to this same house time after time and find myself escaping each time. Zombies overran the complex, samurai mutants occupied the ranch and ran me out, this time military personnel.
What does it mean? Recurring theme, environment, and hostilities; I concede to this one. I do not have the faintest idea...
Yeti
Recurring themes seem to be the composition of this weeks dreams. This post; the yeti.
On the side of the road I find myself at a house that I apparently own. The house is a two story house with a large wrap around porch for the second story. The raised porch has been freshly built; the smell of mahogany is fresh. On the porch a brand new brushed aluminum grill sits to the side. What a great view off into the forest and down a large hill that overlooks a range of mountains.
My friends come over to enjoy a barbecue. We cook turkey burgers, boca burgers, brats, and some chicken. We joke around at a large table on the deck with an equally large canopy. The party is pretty busy with the deck holding quite a few people sitting and standing. Some people socially work inside preparing various foods. Children run back and forth as they do.
Slowly, sound starts to fade and everybody notices. A sort of supernatural quieting occurs. The grill stops hissing and echoing sound. Voices become more and more quiet regardless of the level and attempt to utter louder. Children laughter and yelling becomes non existent.
Around the corner of the house a loud bellowing echoes through the woods and off the house. Loose objects such as silverware and glasses tremble in fear with each yell. A tall brown man-like beast nearly 15 feet tall rounds the corner of the house. Ears that are elf-like protrude straight to the side of its head. Its hair is dark brown with light brown streaks vertically strewn about its body. The hair looks thick yet clean. The beast yells and howls filling the void between the trees and up to the onlookers above.
The look in its eyes look scared, hurt, yet fearsome at the same time. The beast goes on a rampage uprooting small trees, throwing objects left on the ground from children, and pounding on the side of the house. All is quiet except the screams of the beast. People run and scatter in fear into the house. I am left alone on the deck as I watch the beast. I should be afraid but I am oddly glad that the beast is here. I feel a kindred spirit to this sad beast.
The beast peers deep into my soul with its dark brown eyes. White whiskers protrude from its cheeks that are almost cat-like. Its teeth are needle-like and fill the beasts mouth in rows; like a shark. Muscle form can be seen beneath the hair implying a stout and strong beast.
However, the beast does not make any attempt to harm me. The beast seems aggravated and feeling an intense amount of sorrow. What do I do? The howling is deafening, its eyes are terribly sad.
I woke up with the familiarity that this has happened in the past. The beast frequents my dreams doing the exact same thing. In my curiosity I decide to research what the yeti in dreams may mean.
First I find a disclaimer that the yeti is a powerful spiritual and emotional figure and all interpretations should be scrutinized carefully. With that being said, the yeti appears to foreshadow an emotional or spiritual event that may occur in the near future. Conquering the yeti in a dream can symbolize a triumph over ones emotional and spiritual self.
The yelling and painful grimace on the yetis face make me think that some spiritual or emotional truth is feeling angst or grief. The peaceful and thankful presence; however, make me second guess this.
To take a step back; the night before I had this dream I had an interesting night giving to the poor and talking philosophically to a homeless man. Perhaps, just perhaps, the yeti yelling and screaming with a peaceful air about symbolizes a victory spiritually and naturally. Maybe I reached a plateau and gained a oneness with the mystical beast; the yeti.
I wonder what you think...
On the side of the road I find myself at a house that I apparently own. The house is a two story house with a large wrap around porch for the second story. The raised porch has been freshly built; the smell of mahogany is fresh. On the porch a brand new brushed aluminum grill sits to the side. What a great view off into the forest and down a large hill that overlooks a range of mountains.
My friends come over to enjoy a barbecue. We cook turkey burgers, boca burgers, brats, and some chicken. We joke around at a large table on the deck with an equally large canopy. The party is pretty busy with the deck holding quite a few people sitting and standing. Some people socially work inside preparing various foods. Children run back and forth as they do.
Slowly, sound starts to fade and everybody notices. A sort of supernatural quieting occurs. The grill stops hissing and echoing sound. Voices become more and more quiet regardless of the level and attempt to utter louder. Children laughter and yelling becomes non existent.
Around the corner of the house a loud bellowing echoes through the woods and off the house. Loose objects such as silverware and glasses tremble in fear with each yell. A tall brown man-like beast nearly 15 feet tall rounds the corner of the house. Ears that are elf-like protrude straight to the side of its head. Its hair is dark brown with light brown streaks vertically strewn about its body. The hair looks thick yet clean. The beast yells and howls filling the void between the trees and up to the onlookers above.
The look in its eyes look scared, hurt, yet fearsome at the same time. The beast goes on a rampage uprooting small trees, throwing objects left on the ground from children, and pounding on the side of the house. All is quiet except the screams of the beast. People run and scatter in fear into the house. I am left alone on the deck as I watch the beast. I should be afraid but I am oddly glad that the beast is here. I feel a kindred spirit to this sad beast.
The beast peers deep into my soul with its dark brown eyes. White whiskers protrude from its cheeks that are almost cat-like. Its teeth are needle-like and fill the beasts mouth in rows; like a shark. Muscle form can be seen beneath the hair implying a stout and strong beast.
However, the beast does not make any attempt to harm me. The beast seems aggravated and feeling an intense amount of sorrow. What do I do? The howling is deafening, its eyes are terribly sad.
I woke up with the familiarity that this has happened in the past. The beast frequents my dreams doing the exact same thing. In my curiosity I decide to research what the yeti in dreams may mean.
First I find a disclaimer that the yeti is a powerful spiritual and emotional figure and all interpretations should be scrutinized carefully. With that being said, the yeti appears to foreshadow an emotional or spiritual event that may occur in the near future. Conquering the yeti in a dream can symbolize a triumph over ones emotional and spiritual self.
The yelling and painful grimace on the yetis face make me think that some spiritual or emotional truth is feeling angst or grief. The peaceful and thankful presence; however, make me second guess this.
To take a step back; the night before I had this dream I had an interesting night giving to the poor and talking philosophically to a homeless man. Perhaps, just perhaps, the yeti yelling and screaming with a peaceful air about symbolizes a victory spiritually and naturally. Maybe I reached a plateau and gained a oneness with the mystical beast; the yeti.
I wonder what you think...
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Pleasant Disguise
Every now and then a dream will come along to parallel your true feelings and reveal your entire being. Surreality in somnolence.
I sit on the decaying remains of an oak tree. Orange leaves a strewn about the ground and trees wither in anticipation. The sky is dull and gray; a solid sheet of cloud with no shapes or texture. Still air, no scent.
I feel a hollowness inside my heart, a harrowing sort of feeling. Visions of others smiling, laughing, and happiness flash by my eyes. I can feel hot salty tears well up inside of my eyes. I remember countless times of making people smile. I love making people smile; yet, I realize subconsciously that my desire to impart happiness is in part due to my own emptiness.
I contrast and compare myself and my new found self with others and laugh. I laugh with a sarcastic sneer upon my face. I relish the idea that I need to make people smile to cover and further bury my own feelings. Perhaps it is to save face and shut people out. Others will often assume that the person making jokes and taking light of situations is in fact the one that needs to be cheered up.
Thinking to myself I soon wonder about my new years resolution, which is to do something every weekend for a whole year. Do I want to do something every weekend for a year and whats the result? Am I running from myself and ignoring my inner-self and as a result my inner-self haunts me in a dream? There must be something I seek, something that I don't have.
I don't know where to go from here. I stand up from the log and walk in a random direction. Hands in my pockets I stride contemplatively. "What do I seek, what does it mean?" I think out loud. An all too familiar warmth around my heart beats softly. Closeness and a longing to confide in someone is the emotional response. "What if I don't seek that at all, I am content and actually quite busy for any sort of commitment" I say as I stop and face upwards.
A circulating wind rustles leaves ever so gently. I kneel down and sit back on the log knowing full well that it was there even though I have walked hundreds of yards in deep thought. I feel as if I am making no progress and a feeling of apathetic dismay overwhelms me. I look down and sigh "What do I do?"
A nagging voice in my head convinces me that companionship is not what I seek. I know that there is interest but I shrug it off like its nothing like the ever so common blink of an eye. I am after adventure and glory. A strong yearning to make a difference to a greater cause wells up inside. I feel the need to bring peace and harmony between nature and human-kind. "The depths I would go to eliminate the greed, corruption, and ignorance to save you" I state boldly as I look at the wandering leaves and fresh soil.
A crotch-rocket drives by in very low gear waking me up. Self-realization can come at the oddest of times. Monotony is killing me and I need to find a way to follow my heart into the woods; it's calling me...
I sit on the decaying remains of an oak tree. Orange leaves a strewn about the ground and trees wither in anticipation. The sky is dull and gray; a solid sheet of cloud with no shapes or texture. Still air, no scent.
I feel a hollowness inside my heart, a harrowing sort of feeling. Visions of others smiling, laughing, and happiness flash by my eyes. I can feel hot salty tears well up inside of my eyes. I remember countless times of making people smile. I love making people smile; yet, I realize subconsciously that my desire to impart happiness is in part due to my own emptiness.
I contrast and compare myself and my new found self with others and laugh. I laugh with a sarcastic sneer upon my face. I relish the idea that I need to make people smile to cover and further bury my own feelings. Perhaps it is to save face and shut people out. Others will often assume that the person making jokes and taking light of situations is in fact the one that needs to be cheered up.
Thinking to myself I soon wonder about my new years resolution, which is to do something every weekend for a whole year. Do I want to do something every weekend for a year and whats the result? Am I running from myself and ignoring my inner-self and as a result my inner-self haunts me in a dream? There must be something I seek, something that I don't have.
I don't know where to go from here. I stand up from the log and walk in a random direction. Hands in my pockets I stride contemplatively. "What do I seek, what does it mean?" I think out loud. An all too familiar warmth around my heart beats softly. Closeness and a longing to confide in someone is the emotional response. "What if I don't seek that at all, I am content and actually quite busy for any sort of commitment" I say as I stop and face upwards.
A circulating wind rustles leaves ever so gently. I kneel down and sit back on the log knowing full well that it was there even though I have walked hundreds of yards in deep thought. I feel as if I am making no progress and a feeling of apathetic dismay overwhelms me. I look down and sigh "What do I do?"
A nagging voice in my head convinces me that companionship is not what I seek. I know that there is interest but I shrug it off like its nothing like the ever so common blink of an eye. I am after adventure and glory. A strong yearning to make a difference to a greater cause wells up inside. I feel the need to bring peace and harmony between nature and human-kind. "The depths I would go to eliminate the greed, corruption, and ignorance to save you" I state boldly as I look at the wandering leaves and fresh soil.
A crotch-rocket drives by in very low gear waking me up. Self-realization can come at the oddest of times. Monotony is killing me and I need to find a way to follow my heart into the woods; it's calling me...
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Recognize the Beauty
Midnight. Highway stretches for eternity. Windows down, sunroof up; drone of the engine pumping with a a cosmic energy and wind flowing past my ears. Dirty windshield obscures vision slightly as it is like a dense haze or fog affixed to glass. Slightly chilly yet still very humid. Odd sensation of small goosebumps and sticky weather makes for a sensitive feeling.
The steering wheel is cold yet an old pleasant faithful friend. Its brother; the shift knob, is smooth, chilled, and moistened as my clammy hands grip it. My right leg trembles with exhaustion with sitting still with slight pressure against the pedal.
What a beautiful moment. Headlights from afar peer into my window; obscured. The light creates a heliocentric ring of scattered and diffused rays. All too familiar yet so beautiful. The drone of the engine resounds a pressure in my chest. So comfortable to be soothed by the waves of sound wash over me.
Stars glisten above like pearls on a black sheet. I have seen the stars hundreds of times yet they beam brightly into my eyes tonight. Trees zoom by in droves seemingly innumerable. The smell of pine wafts in my metallic cocoon every now and then.
A voice calls from the back of my head "Come with me." I smile and respond with a quick kick of my left foot and a south-western motion of my right hand followed by a release of the left foot and hammering down with the right. Suddenly, the engine whines and hisses with the rotation of turbine blades ramming air through the engine. My body is pressed firmly against the seat, which grabs me and coddles me like an infant.
Within a few seconds I am well beyond legal and safe limits; yet, it feels so good, so right. The stars blur, the trees wane out of comprehension, and tactile sensations go out the window. All that matters is the tunnel view of the open road and the explosive roar of the exhaust.
The shiver fades away, the clammy knob dissipates. The steering wheel transforms from friend to foe as it attempts to wrestle control from me. The motor pushes too much power to the wheels and the car yanks and bucks back and forth like a drunk man walking a straight line. The stallions once captive neigh like a wild storm.
I find a center in me. Its quiet, calm, and innocent. The mind goes blank and empty. This is it, this is beauty, this is Zen. Sated, I let the engine slow itself. The car returns from chaos and turmoil to complacent and contained. Temporary universal chaotic motion always will caress the inner me and refuel me like a sort of soul battery.
Sensation returns. Trees focus into tall stalks of plant rather than a seeming wall. Stars come into view from a blur and again glisten beautifully. The shiver returns as well; yet, its so nice to feel my skin contracting and holding me tight. My palms even more clammy than before relax from the tense gripping of the wheel and the shift knob. My joints wrench apart from the force of the grip.
The wind is audible again and in this moment I am whole. You can shed your person, your being, and become one with the world. Returning to your body is like being born again. A union between spirit and body is a wonderful thing. Colors are brighter, the leather is so soft and the aluminum is cold. The headlights peering in are a welcomed firework display of scattered light.
Delightful!
The steering wheel is cold yet an old pleasant faithful friend. Its brother; the shift knob, is smooth, chilled, and moistened as my clammy hands grip it. My right leg trembles with exhaustion with sitting still with slight pressure against the pedal.
What a beautiful moment. Headlights from afar peer into my window; obscured. The light creates a heliocentric ring of scattered and diffused rays. All too familiar yet so beautiful. The drone of the engine resounds a pressure in my chest. So comfortable to be soothed by the waves of sound wash over me.
Stars glisten above like pearls on a black sheet. I have seen the stars hundreds of times yet they beam brightly into my eyes tonight. Trees zoom by in droves seemingly innumerable. The smell of pine wafts in my metallic cocoon every now and then.
A voice calls from the back of my head "Come with me." I smile and respond with a quick kick of my left foot and a south-western motion of my right hand followed by a release of the left foot and hammering down with the right. Suddenly, the engine whines and hisses with the rotation of turbine blades ramming air through the engine. My body is pressed firmly against the seat, which grabs me and coddles me like an infant.
Within a few seconds I am well beyond legal and safe limits; yet, it feels so good, so right. The stars blur, the trees wane out of comprehension, and tactile sensations go out the window. All that matters is the tunnel view of the open road and the explosive roar of the exhaust.
The shiver fades away, the clammy knob dissipates. The steering wheel transforms from friend to foe as it attempts to wrestle control from me. The motor pushes too much power to the wheels and the car yanks and bucks back and forth like a drunk man walking a straight line. The stallions once captive neigh like a wild storm.
I find a center in me. Its quiet, calm, and innocent. The mind goes blank and empty. This is it, this is beauty, this is Zen. Sated, I let the engine slow itself. The car returns from chaos and turmoil to complacent and contained. Temporary universal chaotic motion always will caress the inner me and refuel me like a sort of soul battery.
Sensation returns. Trees focus into tall stalks of plant rather than a seeming wall. Stars come into view from a blur and again glisten beautifully. The shiver returns as well; yet, its so nice to feel my skin contracting and holding me tight. My palms even more clammy than before relax from the tense gripping of the wheel and the shift knob. My joints wrench apart from the force of the grip.
The wind is audible again and in this moment I am whole. You can shed your person, your being, and become one with the world. Returning to your body is like being born again. A union between spirit and body is a wonderful thing. Colors are brighter, the leather is so soft and the aluminum is cold. The headlights peering in are a welcomed firework display of scattered light.
Delightful!
Friday, June 11, 2010
Mind Within Mine
I now fear to dream.
The night before last I slept like a baby. A single night of pure somnolence and relaxation out of seven months. The day following was clear and concise. Consider living your life through a haze or a smeared lens with perhaps a dim light shining through. With sleep your world is clear, your lens is spotless, and your light is bright. I would almost assume I was a clairvoyant of such in that I could see things and feel things; truly see things and feel things for how they or what they were.
That night; however, was like the Gods struck me down. With that one single purifying night of sleep I would experience a night of dreams like no other. To any of my readers (likely none, and thats cool) you know the detail that my dreams have. The dreams that I had were unparalleled to any I have had yet.
The dreams this night are so realistic that I can feel all of my senses except sound and then some. I can feel emotions emanating from people and animals. My dreams are completely uncontrollable, which is quite unusual. I feel as if I am experiencing all happenings from a fresh perspective; almost like an infant on a sort of railroad that is my single-path dreams.
Colors. Colors are brand new to me and attempt to flesh out my dream realms in a pulsating fashion. Colors will scale walls paint spec by paint spec and pushing against granules of wood, and metal, and paint, and flesh. Textures too will wax and wane flushing and flowing. The colored flakes of skin with smoothness and roughness flow like a river that is drowned with paint and timber. I feel the colors with a warmth and tenderness and I believe the colors come and go with the heightened emotions felt and emoted through the characters and inhabitants of my dream scape.
Most curious is the appearance of sound. Sound is completely inaudible but is implied directly from the source. Conversation is immediately understood as it seems to come from the sounds source. Words, sentences, and conversations are all heard internally in the mind. Sound effects such as doors closing, feet shambling, cars moving, and flesh melding sensually are all assumed in the mind.
Detail is painfully exquisite. One dream seemed to be entirely the devil taunting His ability to weave intricate hallucinations and broadcast them into His subjects mind. Books had hundreds of pages. Gears had teeth with depths and distances between teeth. Carpet had lengths of cloth and could be individually felt; so much to the point that constant petting of said carpet was numbing to the touch. Wind on the back could evoke shivers and goose bumps at the winds unrelenting will.
The flowing of textures and colors like water, inaudible sound yet indirectly implied and understood, and excruciating detail all combined with wild events to shatter the most sane persons mind. Demons came out of their dark corners and stalked their pray like wolves to a wounded fawn. Insecurities poked, fears prodded, and triumphs mocked I attempt to run, run, run away!
Useless! I cannot control the dreams! I struggle to close my eyes but I am only along for this hellish roller coaster that resides in my sub-conscious. First stop, a bank. The walls are dizzying and wildly pulsating and shining with textures and colors I have never seen. Faces are all shapeless and formless but all figures are known and assumed to be people I know. One person has a face and it is the girl, Kate, whom I currently adore. She is behind the counter and is in shock as she looks at me; and the girl that is wrapped around me holding me gently.
"Make it stop, why am I here with another woman? Who is this woman? Faceless with no identity implied?!" I scream in my mind as I watch myself kiss the faceless woman in my arms. The feeling is so right, the hugs, the kisses, the tenderness; but it feels so wrong! I reach out in my mind's eye "STOP! She is not who you want! How could you do this to Kate?!" yet I continue to show tenderness to this mannequin of a faceless formless being. In the distance I see Kate tear up and walk away with sad drops slipping down from her eyes. What kind of monster have I become? My heart sinks, colors fade, textures disappear, detail slips away, and the dream fades to black.
Three other dreams fly by with similar themes of betrayal and deceit. The world in all dreams appear to be comprised of metal and cogs. Each cog has detailed designs carved between and around the teeth. Each tooth casts long shadows and each shadow seems artificial in an over-saturated and all-encompassing sort of way; imposing to swallow up anything the shadow touches.
A last detail is how each book I touched had so much detail. I could feel the pages and words formed pictures straight out of a graphic novel. Each word beamed an image queue into my brain and as a segment was read the picture became more clear. Reading more fastidiously would yield a movie-like segment of flashing images that blocked out the words entirely. Such a minor occurrence in a dream yet could be a dream in its entirety.
Currently, I went through the day (in real life, unless this is a dream) in a daze and confused about how I should react to such events. People tell me its just a dream, I tell myself its just a dream but how can I possibly dismiss these as dreams when I can feel everything. I have had dreams where people die because I was unable to save them. I cannot stress how attached I was able to get to these dream people and to wake and tell myself to forget is just not humane. Is it inhumane to forget about something that doesn't exist; furthermore, do they really not exist?!
I am clearly losing my mind and am having a harder time separating reality from dream-reality. I can not keep doing this as I fear my (small amount) sanity will not hold but will buckle under the pressure. You could not and would not understand the emotions and feelings I retain from these experiences. Tell me your most real memory, your greatest vacation, your wedding, your mothers funeral, or your favorite pet and then dismiss it as if it never happened. THEN you will know how I feel. You will understand how it is to experience something and live through something and then wake up to be told it was nothing. How can I do this?! How can I sanely and assuredly dismiss the reality within?!
The night before last I slept like a baby. A single night of pure somnolence and relaxation out of seven months. The day following was clear and concise. Consider living your life through a haze or a smeared lens with perhaps a dim light shining through. With sleep your world is clear, your lens is spotless, and your light is bright. I would almost assume I was a clairvoyant of such in that I could see things and feel things; truly see things and feel things for how they or what they were.
That night; however, was like the Gods struck me down. With that one single purifying night of sleep I would experience a night of dreams like no other. To any of my readers (likely none, and thats cool) you know the detail that my dreams have. The dreams that I had were unparalleled to any I have had yet.
The dreams this night are so realistic that I can feel all of my senses except sound and then some. I can feel emotions emanating from people and animals. My dreams are completely uncontrollable, which is quite unusual. I feel as if I am experiencing all happenings from a fresh perspective; almost like an infant on a sort of railroad that is my single-path dreams.
Colors. Colors are brand new to me and attempt to flesh out my dream realms in a pulsating fashion. Colors will scale walls paint spec by paint spec and pushing against granules of wood, and metal, and paint, and flesh. Textures too will wax and wane flushing and flowing. The colored flakes of skin with smoothness and roughness flow like a river that is drowned with paint and timber. I feel the colors with a warmth and tenderness and I believe the colors come and go with the heightened emotions felt and emoted through the characters and inhabitants of my dream scape.
Most curious is the appearance of sound. Sound is completely inaudible but is implied directly from the source. Conversation is immediately understood as it seems to come from the sounds source. Words, sentences, and conversations are all heard internally in the mind. Sound effects such as doors closing, feet shambling, cars moving, and flesh melding sensually are all assumed in the mind.
Detail is painfully exquisite. One dream seemed to be entirely the devil taunting His ability to weave intricate hallucinations and broadcast them into His subjects mind. Books had hundreds of pages. Gears had teeth with depths and distances between teeth. Carpet had lengths of cloth and could be individually felt; so much to the point that constant petting of said carpet was numbing to the touch. Wind on the back could evoke shivers and goose bumps at the winds unrelenting will.
The flowing of textures and colors like water, inaudible sound yet indirectly implied and understood, and excruciating detail all combined with wild events to shatter the most sane persons mind. Demons came out of their dark corners and stalked their pray like wolves to a wounded fawn. Insecurities poked, fears prodded, and triumphs mocked I attempt to run, run, run away!
Useless! I cannot control the dreams! I struggle to close my eyes but I am only along for this hellish roller coaster that resides in my sub-conscious. First stop, a bank. The walls are dizzying and wildly pulsating and shining with textures and colors I have never seen. Faces are all shapeless and formless but all figures are known and assumed to be people I know. One person has a face and it is the girl, Kate, whom I currently adore. She is behind the counter and is in shock as she looks at me; and the girl that is wrapped around me holding me gently.
"Make it stop, why am I here with another woman? Who is this woman? Faceless with no identity implied?!" I scream in my mind as I watch myself kiss the faceless woman in my arms. The feeling is so right, the hugs, the kisses, the tenderness; but it feels so wrong! I reach out in my mind's eye "STOP! She is not who you want! How could you do this to Kate?!" yet I continue to show tenderness to this mannequin of a faceless formless being. In the distance I see Kate tear up and walk away with sad drops slipping down from her eyes. What kind of monster have I become? My heart sinks, colors fade, textures disappear, detail slips away, and the dream fades to black.
Three other dreams fly by with similar themes of betrayal and deceit. The world in all dreams appear to be comprised of metal and cogs. Each cog has detailed designs carved between and around the teeth. Each tooth casts long shadows and each shadow seems artificial in an over-saturated and all-encompassing sort of way; imposing to swallow up anything the shadow touches.
A last detail is how each book I touched had so much detail. I could feel the pages and words formed pictures straight out of a graphic novel. Each word beamed an image queue into my brain and as a segment was read the picture became more clear. Reading more fastidiously would yield a movie-like segment of flashing images that blocked out the words entirely. Such a minor occurrence in a dream yet could be a dream in its entirety.
Currently, I went through the day (in real life, unless this is a dream) in a daze and confused about how I should react to such events. People tell me its just a dream, I tell myself its just a dream but how can I possibly dismiss these as dreams when I can feel everything. I have had dreams where people die because I was unable to save them. I cannot stress how attached I was able to get to these dream people and to wake and tell myself to forget is just not humane. Is it inhumane to forget about something that doesn't exist; furthermore, do they really not exist?!
I am clearly losing my mind and am having a harder time separating reality from dream-reality. I can not keep doing this as I fear my (small amount) sanity will not hold but will buckle under the pressure. You could not and would not understand the emotions and feelings I retain from these experiences. Tell me your most real memory, your greatest vacation, your wedding, your mothers funeral, or your favorite pet and then dismiss it as if it never happened. THEN you will know how I feel. You will understand how it is to experience something and live through something and then wake up to be told it was nothing. How can I do this?! How can I sanely and assuredly dismiss the reality within?!
Monday, May 3, 2010
Celebs in the dream
Dreams...
The couch I sit upon is firm. Similar to a couch made of styrofoam if one could be imagined. No give yet all support. Uncomfortable, rigid, yet soft. Some sort of suede. The couch smells very... sterile. It smells like an x-ray examination room.
In front of me is a very familiar desk. The desk is made of plexi-glass and is immaculately cleaned. The desk that is so familiar to me happens to be Jon Stewart's desk. I am on the daily show: with Jon Stewart!
To my right on the couch with me is Joe Rogan. The three of us are for, whatever the reason may be, making fun of Matthew Lillard. The details of the pestering I cannot recall. Joe and Jon satirically mock Matthew for the deed that he did.
A commercial breaks and during the quick break Jon busts out a poster with an intricate outline of a nature scene; although skewed. The camera turns back on and the three of us sit again. Jon mentions that the three of us will be attempt to color the picture as fast as possible. This somehow ties in to the joke with Matthew.
Jon colors a portion of it while Joe and I rip into Matthew a little more. Once Jon is done he passes the picture to me; the pressure is on. I have a slew of colors but I have to color as fast as I can!
I examine the picture for the biggest areas of space to draw. I notice a large portion of what appears to be soil is uncolored. The picture is quite detailed and is even aligned in a grid. Each block contains variables of detail. I start but as I start I feel as if my body is being absorbed by the picture. All I can focus on is the picture and each stroke. All sounds are dulled and the peripheral of my vision is blurred. I must concentrate!
Each stroke of the marker makes an alarming sound. A loud scratch like pen on paper amplified twenty times. The sound is unnerving! It is hard to make each line; each separate addition of color. I forge on and realize this is a race of time and not perfection. I scramble and color wildly.
(At this point I realize fully that I am in a dream and actually making logical and decisive actions in my dream. This is very cool and yet at the same time very disappointing that my first 100% controllable and aware dream is of coloring. Everyone has a starting point.)
Once the poster is completed Jon holds it up to the camera, makes a sarcastic remark, and I wake up.
The couch I sit upon is firm. Similar to a couch made of styrofoam if one could be imagined. No give yet all support. Uncomfortable, rigid, yet soft. Some sort of suede. The couch smells very... sterile. It smells like an x-ray examination room.
In front of me is a very familiar desk. The desk is made of plexi-glass and is immaculately cleaned. The desk that is so familiar to me happens to be Jon Stewart's desk. I am on the daily show: with Jon Stewart!
To my right on the couch with me is Joe Rogan. The three of us are for, whatever the reason may be, making fun of Matthew Lillard. The details of the pestering I cannot recall. Joe and Jon satirically mock Matthew for the deed that he did.
A commercial breaks and during the quick break Jon busts out a poster with an intricate outline of a nature scene; although skewed. The camera turns back on and the three of us sit again. Jon mentions that the three of us will be attempt to color the picture as fast as possible. This somehow ties in to the joke with Matthew.
Jon colors a portion of it while Joe and I rip into Matthew a little more. Once Jon is done he passes the picture to me; the pressure is on. I have a slew of colors but I have to color as fast as I can!
I examine the picture for the biggest areas of space to draw. I notice a large portion of what appears to be soil is uncolored. The picture is quite detailed and is even aligned in a grid. Each block contains variables of detail. I start but as I start I feel as if my body is being absorbed by the picture. All I can focus on is the picture and each stroke. All sounds are dulled and the peripheral of my vision is blurred. I must concentrate!
Each stroke of the marker makes an alarming sound. A loud scratch like pen on paper amplified twenty times. The sound is unnerving! It is hard to make each line; each separate addition of color. I forge on and realize this is a race of time and not perfection. I scramble and color wildly.
(At this point I realize fully that I am in a dream and actually making logical and decisive actions in my dream. This is very cool and yet at the same time very disappointing that my first 100% controllable and aware dream is of coloring. Everyone has a starting point.)
Once the poster is completed Jon holds it up to the camera, makes a sarcastic remark, and I wake up.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Archeology
Dreams..
Again, my dream-me resident is visiting Seattle. I cruise around in a turbocharged 1997 Toyota Supra. The highway, the T-tops, the wind... all so calming, so freeing. The rush of the wind blows past my ears and they tingle. The only other sound I hear is the twin turbo's, screaming, whinning, and howling like some sort of crying banshee. The car jumps from 70 to 100 mph in seconds. The exhiliration of the blow-off valve releasing between shifts and the jerk of sudden explosive acceleration is out of this world.
Swerving in and out of traffic like a total douche-bag but whatever, its a dream right? I notice a spiral ascension coming up with speed limits. I do not heed the warning as I usually don't. Limit of 75 MPH is reasonable; I can do it at 100. Too much traffic! I down-shift in a panic and jam the brakes. Narrowly missing a car and the side-wall I come to a steady roll of 80 mph. Regardless, the spiraled part of the highway rises around three or four times. The thrill is still there!
The highway straightens out and a tunnel is up ahead into the mountainside. Fantastic! I immediately become over-excited as I know what turbocharged cars are like surrounded by concrete. The reverberation of sound is like literal orgasm in the ears. I tease the traffic behind me to give myself a little room to breath. Once I get some track ahead of me I down-shift and speed up. Not too fast but 25 pounds per square inch of compressed air is enough to engulf the entire tunnel in hissing and growling. Gorgeous sound, absolutely beautiful.
Eventually traffic comes to a halt. Too many cars, too many people. If only it were night, if only the tunnel were empty... I wait, five minutes, ten minutes, thirty... what is the hold up? The air is getting dense and stuffy. Too many cars, too many people.
Time goes by waiting, teasing the engine, the hissing, the howls; I want it back! I shut the car down and get out to stretch. Moments later a man runs by followed by the FBI (I know this because they were wearings suits?). I quickly grab my camera out of the car and blip it locked with the remote and give chase. What I am expecting I have no idea, afterall, I am bored! (btw, this must be a dream because I would never leave a Mk. 4 Supra sitting and give chase for some dude)
I give chase for maybe half a mile and an explosion brings down parts of the tunnel in front of me. I notice the men chase off into a hole in the tunnel off into the mountain. Interesting, a cave was here lit up by bioluminescent crystals. The ambience is peaceful. Dust floats in the air freshly disturbed. The dust is slightly reflective and sparkles like angellic phantoms. In the end we reach a chamber. The walls crumble down to reveal ancient architecture. Scupltures of religious figures and heiroglyphics.
The man the FBI is chasing seals the chamber, grabs two of the men, and vanish. He leaves me with one FBI agent. The FBI agent throws his arms in the air and plops down and lights a cig. He seems cool and collect just catching his breath. I, being the noob that I am, gawk at the statues, the symbols, and the crystals. It is all so new to me. The agent notices me and says "What a beautiful sight eh?" he is a sort of inspiring man simply by his voice. He has the type of voice that could soothe a serial killer, deep, soft, with a hint of an ebonics accent. He has an air of philisophical brilliance about him.
He asks "any idea what any of this means?" in which I respond "Beats me, how would I know?" We both stare at the statues in silence. I state "You know, some of these parts seem to be lighter than the other. This indicates a shift in color" the statues were all the same relative color and any hint of pigmentation has faded. "Yeah, but that doesnt mean anything" he said "what you should be looking for is a way outta here!"
I shrug and slightly shake my head "Man, any hints at all? Your the FBI, I am just some dude!" "Yeah but your the dude that is going to get me out of here so you better get working on it" says the agent. I can tell he is testing me, he sits and puts one leg up on his knee. He takes a deep hit on his cig and lets it out. He twirls the cig around and looks at it as if deep in thought.
Oh well, best get to work I think to myself. I scrape the statues with my hand to wisk away the dust. The styling is to inricate, so detailed. I move to one section and notice that behind the statue there are many luminescent crystals. I have a feeling in my gut that something is here. The statue is of a woman enveloped in thick armor. The shoulder pads have circles on them as if to grab onto. I grab the statues right shoulder pad and I can feel something warm, the circular part feels hollow and can be seen through, although the vision is obscured by old age. I get closer and the agent gets up, dusts off his knees, and states "Well, I think it is time..."
I wake up and realize that I slept in half an hour. I pick up my phone and wonder why my alarm clock didnt go off. I look at the time and my alarm starts to ring. Is this a dream too? Am I losing my mind? How is it possible that my alarm would go off the instant i look at my phone? I am losing it huh.
Again, my dream-me resident is visiting Seattle. I cruise around in a turbocharged 1997 Toyota Supra. The highway, the T-tops, the wind... all so calming, so freeing. The rush of the wind blows past my ears and they tingle. The only other sound I hear is the twin turbo's, screaming, whinning, and howling like some sort of crying banshee. The car jumps from 70 to 100 mph in seconds. The exhiliration of the blow-off valve releasing between shifts and the jerk of sudden explosive acceleration is out of this world.
Swerving in and out of traffic like a total douche-bag but whatever, its a dream right? I notice a spiral ascension coming up with speed limits. I do not heed the warning as I usually don't. Limit of 75 MPH is reasonable; I can do it at 100. Too much traffic! I down-shift in a panic and jam the brakes. Narrowly missing a car and the side-wall I come to a steady roll of 80 mph. Regardless, the spiraled part of the highway rises around three or four times. The thrill is still there!
The highway straightens out and a tunnel is up ahead into the mountainside. Fantastic! I immediately become over-excited as I know what turbocharged cars are like surrounded by concrete. The reverberation of sound is like literal orgasm in the ears. I tease the traffic behind me to give myself a little room to breath. Once I get some track ahead of me I down-shift and speed up. Not too fast but 25 pounds per square inch of compressed air is enough to engulf the entire tunnel in hissing and growling. Gorgeous sound, absolutely beautiful.
Eventually traffic comes to a halt. Too many cars, too many people. If only it were night, if only the tunnel were empty... I wait, five minutes, ten minutes, thirty... what is the hold up? The air is getting dense and stuffy. Too many cars, too many people.
Time goes by waiting, teasing the engine, the hissing, the howls; I want it back! I shut the car down and get out to stretch. Moments later a man runs by followed by the FBI (I know this because they were wearings suits?). I quickly grab my camera out of the car and blip it locked with the remote and give chase. What I am expecting I have no idea, afterall, I am bored! (btw, this must be a dream because I would never leave a Mk. 4 Supra sitting and give chase for some dude)
I give chase for maybe half a mile and an explosion brings down parts of the tunnel in front of me. I notice the men chase off into a hole in the tunnel off into the mountain. Interesting, a cave was here lit up by bioluminescent crystals. The ambience is peaceful. Dust floats in the air freshly disturbed. The dust is slightly reflective and sparkles like angellic phantoms. In the end we reach a chamber. The walls crumble down to reveal ancient architecture. Scupltures of religious figures and heiroglyphics.
The man the FBI is chasing seals the chamber, grabs two of the men, and vanish. He leaves me with one FBI agent. The FBI agent throws his arms in the air and plops down and lights a cig. He seems cool and collect just catching his breath. I, being the noob that I am, gawk at the statues, the symbols, and the crystals. It is all so new to me. The agent notices me and says "What a beautiful sight eh?" he is a sort of inspiring man simply by his voice. He has the type of voice that could soothe a serial killer, deep, soft, with a hint of an ebonics accent. He has an air of philisophical brilliance about him.
He asks "any idea what any of this means?" in which I respond "Beats me, how would I know?" We both stare at the statues in silence. I state "You know, some of these parts seem to be lighter than the other. This indicates a shift in color" the statues were all the same relative color and any hint of pigmentation has faded. "Yeah, but that doesnt mean anything" he said "what you should be looking for is a way outta here!"
I shrug and slightly shake my head "Man, any hints at all? Your the FBI, I am just some dude!" "Yeah but your the dude that is going to get me out of here so you better get working on it" says the agent. I can tell he is testing me, he sits and puts one leg up on his knee. He takes a deep hit on his cig and lets it out. He twirls the cig around and looks at it as if deep in thought.
Oh well, best get to work I think to myself. I scrape the statues with my hand to wisk away the dust. The styling is to inricate, so detailed. I move to one section and notice that behind the statue there are many luminescent crystals. I have a feeling in my gut that something is here. The statue is of a woman enveloped in thick armor. The shoulder pads have circles on them as if to grab onto. I grab the statues right shoulder pad and I can feel something warm, the circular part feels hollow and can be seen through, although the vision is obscured by old age. I get closer and the agent gets up, dusts off his knees, and states "Well, I think it is time..."
I wake up and realize that I slept in half an hour. I pick up my phone and wonder why my alarm clock didnt go off. I look at the time and my alarm starts to ring. Is this a dream too? Am I losing my mind? How is it possible that my alarm would go off the instant i look at my phone? I am losing it huh.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Barking Wolves
Dreams.
Dream opens and I am on a dirt bike; maybe 250cc. Smell of 2-stroke engine and gasoline. Cold, damp, foggy, and rainy day. I am miles away from my house. Soft misting rain batters on my face. My hearing is obscured; sort of like the distant feeling in your ears when you have the flu.
The bike spits mud behind me on the lonely dirt road I travel. What am I doing out here? Where am I coming from? I am clearly going home, I can feel it in my chest.
Trees barren, must be early spring. Fog envelopes the swamps I ride alongside of. I spot a dog-like figure on the side of the road. I down-shift a few times and slow my roll. As I approach the figure it leaps towards me. It jumps right behind me. Startled, I punch it to escape.
As I look back I notice that it is a grey wolf. Its furr is ratty and its muscles buldging. Vile drool drips from the wolfs gnashing teeth. As fast as I try, the bike will not go more than 49 miles per hour. Coincidently, this is 1 mph slower than the wolf is running (it doesnt make sense, don't ask).
I soon realize that I must do something or else I will be finished. I kick towards the wolf so that it loses a step or two. The wind turns to blistering cold. The rain comes down harder and obscures my vision. Panic overwhelmes me.
Heart racing, adrenaline pumping. I notice a police car up ahead. Relief! I get closer and flag down the officer. The officer notices what is transpiring, steps out of the car, draws his gun and fires. A miss!
Too late for the officer, the wolf pounces and tears the officer to shreds. In disbelief I turn around. Another wolf spawns from the wounds of the slain officer. In horror I speed up a hill. The bike does not have the power, I lazily climb the hill. The wolves close ground rapidly!
No more than a minute flat I am overturned by the wolves. A few rolls on the bike and I lay face up in the rain on the dirt road. The wolves gnashing at me. Somehow I struggle free and clammor to my feet. The road is muddy, slippery even. I sloppily jog up the hill fighting the wolves off as they jump on my back. I can hear each chomp behind my neck.
At the top of the hill is a city transit bus... I must be no more than a mile outside of town! I am so close! The wolves dissapear into the surrounding swamp as I approach the bus. The bus lets me on and the driver notices my distress. I am bleeding yet I felt no pain; must be the adrenaline. Riding towards the town something slams into the bus and it too is over-turned onto its side. Immediately I knew my journey was not over!
I immerge from the bus and see maybe six or seven wolves chewing on the passengers of the bus. I find a sharp metal tube, likely the scrap from a fuel line. I fight off a wolf by piercing it through the side and run off into the swamp (why the hell would I do that...)
The swamp gets deeper, I am soon up past my waste in muddy swamp water. I turn around and there are many more wolves coming after me. It is over, I cannot go on. I am exhausted and paralyzed with fear. I find myself entangled against a fallen tree. The wolves close in. The pack always finds a target and overwhelms it. I felt each tooth, each claw... fade to black, that is all there was...
Dream opens and I am on a dirt bike; maybe 250cc. Smell of 2-stroke engine and gasoline. Cold, damp, foggy, and rainy day. I am miles away from my house. Soft misting rain batters on my face. My hearing is obscured; sort of like the distant feeling in your ears when you have the flu.
The bike spits mud behind me on the lonely dirt road I travel. What am I doing out here? Where am I coming from? I am clearly going home, I can feel it in my chest.
Trees barren, must be early spring. Fog envelopes the swamps I ride alongside of. I spot a dog-like figure on the side of the road. I down-shift a few times and slow my roll. As I approach the figure it leaps towards me. It jumps right behind me. Startled, I punch it to escape.
As I look back I notice that it is a grey wolf. Its furr is ratty and its muscles buldging. Vile drool drips from the wolfs gnashing teeth. As fast as I try, the bike will not go more than 49 miles per hour. Coincidently, this is 1 mph slower than the wolf is running (it doesnt make sense, don't ask).
I soon realize that I must do something or else I will be finished. I kick towards the wolf so that it loses a step or two. The wind turns to blistering cold. The rain comes down harder and obscures my vision. Panic overwhelmes me.
Heart racing, adrenaline pumping. I notice a police car up ahead. Relief! I get closer and flag down the officer. The officer notices what is transpiring, steps out of the car, draws his gun and fires. A miss!
Too late for the officer, the wolf pounces and tears the officer to shreds. In disbelief I turn around. Another wolf spawns from the wounds of the slain officer. In horror I speed up a hill. The bike does not have the power, I lazily climb the hill. The wolves close ground rapidly!
No more than a minute flat I am overturned by the wolves. A few rolls on the bike and I lay face up in the rain on the dirt road. The wolves gnashing at me. Somehow I struggle free and clammor to my feet. The road is muddy, slippery even. I sloppily jog up the hill fighting the wolves off as they jump on my back. I can hear each chomp behind my neck.
At the top of the hill is a city transit bus... I must be no more than a mile outside of town! I am so close! The wolves dissapear into the surrounding swamp as I approach the bus. The bus lets me on and the driver notices my distress. I am bleeding yet I felt no pain; must be the adrenaline. Riding towards the town something slams into the bus and it too is over-turned onto its side. Immediately I knew my journey was not over!
I immerge from the bus and see maybe six or seven wolves chewing on the passengers of the bus. I find a sharp metal tube, likely the scrap from a fuel line. I fight off a wolf by piercing it through the side and run off into the swamp (why the hell would I do that...)
The swamp gets deeper, I am soon up past my waste in muddy swamp water. I turn around and there are many more wolves coming after me. It is over, I cannot go on. I am exhausted and paralyzed with fear. I find myself entangled against a fallen tree. The wolves close in. The pack always finds a target and overwhelms it. I felt each tooth, each claw... fade to black, that is all there was...
Family Jewels
Dreams.
Reading a Stranger in a Strange Land in a beach side hotel. I notice that the movie (that does not exist in real life, by the way) is playing at the same time. The movie is precisely as the book goes; a pure port from one form to another. After fifteen minutes my companions decided that we should visit some museums in the town we were visiting.
Curious enough, we seemed to be in a south-asian location such as vietnam or cambodia. However, the town was very Americanized. Upon asking what town we were a friend stated we were in Battle Creek. The stark contrast between a south-asian climate and Battle Creek, Michigan is astounding. At this point I knew I was dreaming but forged on anyway.
We drive to a history museum that housed very precious metals and jewels. Many of us waited in the lobby while a few friends pay for the admission. During our wait I had some very good conversations with fellow tourists and sight-seers alike. One man commented on my bonsai tree tattoo on my arm. He stated "You know, sir, I highly respect your reverence to mother nature. In my country a man marked with nature is a man that can be trusted and sought for all kinds of advice."
Another conversation occured between an family from India; a woman and her two children. The children stated that the family was travelling after their father passed. It was always their fathers dream to explore and see the sights with their children; so in commemoration they would travel and see it all. The woman was telling me a bit about the building and why it housed the jewells. She also pointed to a joined building that, amongst other things, housed the worlds most valuable jewells. She also said, sadly, that nearly daily there was an attempted robbery of the jewells.
So at this point I get worried that my friends are taking too long to get our admission tickets. I notice in the joined building that two figures are running back towards our building followed by three armed policemen. I had a deep suspicion that these two people were going to be shot down. I shouted "EVERYBODY COVER YOUR EARS, THERES GOING TO BE GUN SHOTS!" As usual per my dreams nary a soul listens to my warning. Moments later four shotgun blasts ring out and down the halls. (Why do my suspicions and feelings come true in my dreams?)
Panic immediately comes over myself and my companions as we have not seen our friends in quite some time. We all bolt to the turn-style for admission, on the way the policemen chase down a woman that seemed to be dressed as a museum employee. The policemen push her down and point a pistol to her skull. I immediately look at the Indian children in horror and luckily their mother was covering their eyes and ears. I turn back around and the policeman pulls the trigger. The smell, the blood... all so real in my mind.
Horrified I step towards the policeman in blatent defiance of the public scene. He points the gun at me... my alarm wakes me up.
Reading a Stranger in a Strange Land in a beach side hotel. I notice that the movie (that does not exist in real life, by the way) is playing at the same time. The movie is precisely as the book goes; a pure port from one form to another. After fifteen minutes my companions decided that we should visit some museums in the town we were visiting.
Curious enough, we seemed to be in a south-asian location such as vietnam or cambodia. However, the town was very Americanized. Upon asking what town we were a friend stated we were in Battle Creek. The stark contrast between a south-asian climate and Battle Creek, Michigan is astounding. At this point I knew I was dreaming but forged on anyway.
We drive to a history museum that housed very precious metals and jewels. Many of us waited in the lobby while a few friends pay for the admission. During our wait I had some very good conversations with fellow tourists and sight-seers alike. One man commented on my bonsai tree tattoo on my arm. He stated "You know, sir, I highly respect your reverence to mother nature. In my country a man marked with nature is a man that can be trusted and sought for all kinds of advice."
Another conversation occured between an family from India; a woman and her two children. The children stated that the family was travelling after their father passed. It was always their fathers dream to explore and see the sights with their children; so in commemoration they would travel and see it all. The woman was telling me a bit about the building and why it housed the jewells. She also pointed to a joined building that, amongst other things, housed the worlds most valuable jewells. She also said, sadly, that nearly daily there was an attempted robbery of the jewells.
So at this point I get worried that my friends are taking too long to get our admission tickets. I notice in the joined building that two figures are running back towards our building followed by three armed policemen. I had a deep suspicion that these two people were going to be shot down. I shouted "EVERYBODY COVER YOUR EARS, THERES GOING TO BE GUN SHOTS!" As usual per my dreams nary a soul listens to my warning. Moments later four shotgun blasts ring out and down the halls. (Why do my suspicions and feelings come true in my dreams?)
Panic immediately comes over myself and my companions as we have not seen our friends in quite some time. We all bolt to the turn-style for admission, on the way the policemen chase down a woman that seemed to be dressed as a museum employee. The policemen push her down and point a pistol to her skull. I immediately look at the Indian children in horror and luckily their mother was covering their eyes and ears. I turn back around and the policeman pulls the trigger. The smell, the blood... all so real in my mind.
Horrified I step towards the policeman in blatent defiance of the public scene. He points the gun at me... my alarm wakes me up.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Lucid Dreams
if you come across this please excuse it, I am typing it as a log for my dream. I will come back and flesh it out and clean it up later (excuse grammer punctuations please, I am in a hurry and have to transcribe this)
7:00 am time for work
i start my usual routine shower eat dress and head down to start my car. blizzard, cold, wind. 3 co-workers down the alley. I meet up and we decide to go get some coffee a few blocks down. We drink coffee notice that police are having a benefit in the blizzard. one police-woman that is also a co-worker is outside, in a lawn chair, in the blizzard, singing songs and hoping to sell things. One police-woman is inside, in the warmth but also in the dark strumming on a guitar. silent, of course she is inside.
We get our coffee and leave the establishment. An old lady in a red truck is parallel parking. We can tell she is struggling. BANG, she smashes into the truck in front of her. We go to help her and get things straightened out. We start walking away and the engine fires up. She apparently needed to move spots. This time she backs into an SUV, attempts to straighten it out and slams into the front of a cavalier, which in turn is pushed into a taurus. At this point the hilarity comes over us as we walk away.
We approach a co-workers car and decide to car pool. Car doesnt start. Fuck it, lets go to my car. We all pile in my car, move the books, the movies, an extra tie. We approach a cross-road, which runs west and east. A policeline. Apparently there is some sort of festival; along the ENTIRE 200 mile road that runs east and west and NOBODY can cross it. We cannot cross at all to get to work, so we park.
Upon parking the blizzard has halted and in fact reversed to the point that the snow is all gone, temperatures are in the mid 70's. Children start swarming the streets, likely anticipating the festivities. We call into work "We cannot cross M-57, we cannot get to work!" they don't understand and have heard nothing of a festival.
We wade through children and parents. Laughter, yelling, screaming, talking... the noise is an eruption of static at this point. We, being young adventerous young men, attempt to cross m-57, we do so, but on foot. We would still need to walk 8 miles to work, not going to do it. So we decide to see what is going on over here.
We discover a new park in town that has soft blues and jazz floating in the air. we walk up a trail and up a huge hill. At the top of it I realize I have roller-blades on. My gracious friends happen to then pick me up and ensure I am on a decent down this hill. intense fear grips me, but as usual I wisk it away with my apathy and go down it head first! What a rush! The speed! The adrenaline! There are even slight hills, mogals if you will, that I use as ramps to soar six feet in the air, over children, over parents (to their great dismay yet to my great enjoyment).
Upon landing I hear my phone going off. I take the phone out of my pocket and realize my alarm is going off. Oh no, my alarm is going off.
Now I am awake. Prompted to start my routine!
It was all so real, the cold, the heat, the sound, the smell of the festival, the laughter, the confusion... now I sit in another world. Confused, dissapointed.
7:00 am time for work
i start my usual routine shower eat dress and head down to start my car. blizzard, cold, wind. 3 co-workers down the alley. I meet up and we decide to go get some coffee a few blocks down. We drink coffee notice that police are having a benefit in the blizzard. one police-woman that is also a co-worker is outside, in a lawn chair, in the blizzard, singing songs and hoping to sell things. One police-woman is inside, in the warmth but also in the dark strumming on a guitar. silent, of course she is inside.
We get our coffee and leave the establishment. An old lady in a red truck is parallel parking. We can tell she is struggling. BANG, she smashes into the truck in front of her. We go to help her and get things straightened out. We start walking away and the engine fires up. She apparently needed to move spots. This time she backs into an SUV, attempts to straighten it out and slams into the front of a cavalier, which in turn is pushed into a taurus. At this point the hilarity comes over us as we walk away.
We approach a co-workers car and decide to car pool. Car doesnt start. Fuck it, lets go to my car. We all pile in my car, move the books, the movies, an extra tie. We approach a cross-road, which runs west and east. A policeline. Apparently there is some sort of festival; along the ENTIRE 200 mile road that runs east and west and NOBODY can cross it. We cannot cross at all to get to work, so we park.
Upon parking the blizzard has halted and in fact reversed to the point that the snow is all gone, temperatures are in the mid 70's. Children start swarming the streets, likely anticipating the festivities. We call into work "We cannot cross M-57, we cannot get to work!" they don't understand and have heard nothing of a festival.
We wade through children and parents. Laughter, yelling, screaming, talking... the noise is an eruption of static at this point. We, being young adventerous young men, attempt to cross m-57, we do so, but on foot. We would still need to walk 8 miles to work, not going to do it. So we decide to see what is going on over here.
We discover a new park in town that has soft blues and jazz floating in the air. we walk up a trail and up a huge hill. At the top of it I realize I have roller-blades on. My gracious friends happen to then pick me up and ensure I am on a decent down this hill. intense fear grips me, but as usual I wisk it away with my apathy and go down it head first! What a rush! The speed! The adrenaline! There are even slight hills, mogals if you will, that I use as ramps to soar six feet in the air, over children, over parents (to their great dismay yet to my great enjoyment).
Upon landing I hear my phone going off. I take the phone out of my pocket and realize my alarm is going off. Oh no, my alarm is going off.
Now I am awake. Prompted to start my routine!
It was all so real, the cold, the heat, the sound, the smell of the festival, the laughter, the confusion... now I sit in another world. Confused, dissapointed.
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