Cleolinda Jones (cleolinda) wrote,
Cleolinda Jones
cleolinda

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Tuesday morning, wtf-ing

I wrote up a dream on Facebook just now, but they wanted "short" descriptions, so I couldn't really do it justice. But I can here, and will, because it was cracked out:

"Vivid Fight Club-esque dream"--literally, in that Tyler Durden was there, but rather than fighting, he liked to crash cars. It started out in a parking garage with a lot of stairwells. Someone walked by, very cheerfully, on his ankles because his feet had been amputated. Meanwhile, I was in a bunker/school with a class of high schoolers, like I was one too--with my best friend from seventh grade. Had to give oral reports on famous people--forgot the name of mine, even though I had a very nice scrapbook/report put together (but did remember, eventually. "Vivian Cavaldos." Some sort of singer-dancer-activist. Google cannot find anyone named Vivian Cavaldos). We started going through our closets (which were... at school) to find things to put in a time capsule. I picked out a black suede shoe. Then at some point the two storylines merged (and I, uh, grew up), and I was hiding out in a library with Crazy Rage Issues Tyler Durden Who Liked to Crash Cars, some other guy and some other girl. Crazy Rage Issues Tyler was having crazy rage issues, and then we watched a video of Middlemarch (is there a movie of Middlemarch ?) in a media room and he calmed down. So then we ended up out on a downtown sidewalk with the huddled masses, if you will--we couldn't go back inside but we couldn't go anywhere else; we were refugees not allowed to leave because then clearly there'd be chaos. I think there may have been acid-spitting aliens at some point, but this didn't faze us much. We basically got bored and started looking for a way out, and I started sassing this guy who seemed to be guarding... another sidewalk. He and his friends (they weren't officials of any kind, just... guys) had water guns and started shooting at me, and I wiped water off my face all, "What the fuck? You're shooting me with water guns? That's all you fucking have and you're gonna 'defend' this sidewalk?" This is probably the most awesome I have ever been in a dream. And then there was a patrol of middle-aged women with yippy dogs. So anyway, Crash Club and I decided to sneak back into the building, which was not a library anymore, and try to get out that way. We opened the door and we were in a maze-y room that seemed predominantly made of woven straw. There was a lit candle mounted on the wall, as there always are in rooms of straw, and of course it got knocked over, and we got the hell out of there as it started smoking, although somehow we heard the patrol and their yippy dogs announcing that they were going in "to save the dogs," even though there were no dogs in the room, or anything else for that matter. Also, to get us. So we get out of the room and plunge further into the building and it's sort of a professional-looking concourse, walled stairways going this way and that, glass doors at the front, and we're trying to walk as quickly and calmly as we can. We have to smile, or the professional-looking people walking around will realize we're refugees, but we have to be quick, because the yippy dogs are coming. We did get out, and then the dream skipped ahead to us getting out of California (we were in California?) just as lava covered all of it (there was lava?). So now we were back "on the mainland," and we started making bombs out of liquid soap to create chaos. Uh... more chaos. And then my alarm went off. C -, would not dream this dream again, would not recommend this dream to others.


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Tags: dreams, wtf
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