Late July 2008-Another post apocalypse dream. I am more or less a leader of a group of young people who have survived some unknown dramatic event. In these dreams we are never outside. Always the group of people are inside a vast and sprawling building. I seem to be one of the few people with any ideas about how to go on. I help reform society and ease their fears. I am very popular with the ladies during this time of enhanced power. I have a few fleeting relationships that always seems to dissolve. The one I remember most is a long haired girl who wants me to rub her pussy through her jeans as the group lounges on the floor of one of the endless rooms. As society is established and they no longer need my direction I am abandoned and become only a social outsider. No more girls.
All these recurring dreams involve this endless stretching sprawling building. We are never outside, and I think either there literally is no "outside" or the world outside the building is too toxic to venture into.
It is late at night and I am walking down my home road. The air is full of manna, spiritual energies. The first thing I notice thats out of place in this rural country dirt road is that someone left a four wheeler ATV beside the road with its lights turned on. Seems like anyone can steal it. I am tempted to drive it around myself. But I walk on. The closest house in the direction I'm walking is about a sixth mile off. In front of the house they have made this plastic shelving partly sunken into the ground and filled with items. I feel like the owners of the house are inside watching me so I don't look at the shelves contents. I walk on but I am suddenly exhausted. I can barely go on but I force myself. I'm so tired I feel like laying down beside the road. I pass a second ATV four wheeler with its lights on. The next house in approaching a bit ahead. As I walk I notice the streets are paved with loose syringe heads like I shoot insulin with. Hundreds of thousands of them. My lagging strength runs out and I crash to the ground onto the needles. But they still have there lid caps on and I am not stabbed. I want to go back, try to make it home, but I feel the eyes of watchers in the houses and I know they expect me to go on so I keep walking, forcing my weary legs to move.
I am at some composite of a friend's place playing the brand new version of the computer game Half life. A small group of us are playing it. As we play it we are there inside the game. Playing the levels like its real. I have a handgun that holds six rounds. Some scary battles with powerful robots. We stop at a house where young pretty girls are. A feeling of warmth and love. This does not last long and we move on. More powerful robots and machines to battle. We are trying to make our way down the sloping ramp. But these 1980's retro robots are coming up the ramp. White and round with cheap plastic bodies and round head with blue disc eyes. I fire my whole clip into one but that does not stop it. We retreat running for our lives.
A lady is constantly complaining and bitching in a dirty rasping voice. I wake up and its a insect that keeps dive bombing my head making a dirty raspy sound.
This reminds me of Sunday's cybermagicfightlub event. I decide to use this song then.
I went to a garage sell/pawn shop. Nothing interesting or usable. Boring dull colored books. faded outdated clothes. I check out the stereo equipment stuff. Nothing usable. But there is a interesting but not complete wood paneled radio antennae.
I am riding while my brother drives his pick up truck on 61st street. We go down this insanely tall hill. The road is partly blocked by big empty cardboard boxes. Later we have to return the same way. But I don't see how its possible to go up such a steep hill.It is almost straight up for a long time. The truck slows down to a crawl but it makes it. It almost gets stuck trying to push past all those big boxes in the road. I lament how their used to be interesting books and other items alongside the road (In earlier dreams) now its just big bulky boxes.
Dad says they are going to flatten and haul away from old trailer so I had better grab whatever I want to keep out of it. I now live in a apartment I share with some others. I go and its off putting to see just how much stuff I have left over there. Hundreds of books. Old role playing games, full sized costumes. I bring a few stacks over to my new place. My new apartment home is perfectly neat and organized. I don't see how I can keep it this way considering the vast amount of stuff I have in my old home. In fact the old trailer is packed to the brim with things. Why did I never grab these things way back when. At my new apartment several young people are always hanging out including this young lady who is the special love to the world. She will make love to any man. She loves all and she spreads her disease proof love to anyone who needs it.
I am making a song using only spoken word bits chopped into complex patterns. I do this normally in waking life but this is a perfect example of the form. I am in a building that is some sorta of construct that I can alter by making this sonic vocal chops.
Later I am again living with my parents and hungry. I try to get into kitchen cupboard and the door won't open. So I take a knife and cut into the door itself. I realize what I'm doing too late. I tell dad I just cut a whole in the door. "So your the one thats been doing that!", He says. I start. Damn he's right, without being consciously aware of it I am the door cutter. Have been all alone.