Scents

Japanese food is heavenly.

I haven’t been going to my Social Psych class much lately. That being my only class today, I managed to stay in pajamas until mid-afternoon, playing with Zope and Wiki (that is to say, ZWiki) and registering my first .us domain, stargazer.pvt.k12.co.us, which is for a private school my friend Beth (marble) is starting. I discovered zoneedit.com, which appears to offer free DNS hosting. I can’t figure out what the catch is.

All my clothes, all my sheets, everything is in the laundry. Sleep tonight will be a kludgey matter of layering blankets.

This is a dreamlog, archived from Everything2.

Layers and layers and more layers of wakefulness. I recall at least a dozen times wherein I thought I’d woken, showered, dressed, and moved about the house; each time thinking “wow, I sure had a lot of layers of delusional wakings!”

As far as I know, I’m awake now.

I don’t quite recall any of the dreams themselves, only the general form. I found myself feeling paralyzed — I would feel myself moving, but my body wouldn’t obey. Hyponogogic trance paralysis.

I actually woke around 7 — or, rather, was woken, by a cheery kanon42 who couldn’t sleep and didn’t see any reason why I should. After some convincing, though, I managed to get her to turn off the light again, and we slept peacefully until 2.

This is a dreamlog, archived from Everything2.

Woah.

Vivid, vivid dreams.

kanon42 and I, waking from the first full, un-alarm-interrupted night’s sleep we’ve had in many days, both recalled vivid, lucid, incredibly complex and intricate dreams. We’re not sure what caused them — perhaps simply that we’re finally catching up on much-needed REM-time, perhaps the multivitamins we took before bed… or perhaps the mushrooms on the pizza last night weren’t quite kosher. In any event, wow.

I was crawling through the home of a psychiatrist I used to see, in Northampton, MA. Every room had chandeliers so low as to nearly touch the floor, and I was following Dr. P. around, attempting to crawl/limbo/duck underneath them. Dr. P. didn’t have any trouble — he could just walk around normally.

In another dream, I was at a candle factory, again crawling around, this time on a catwalk above a vat of hot wax. I was in no particular fear of falling — instead, this was a pleasurable thing — I was inhaling the smell of the wax, a sweet, pumpkin-pie scent. Every few minutes, a chinese gong would sound, and the vat would spin, causing the wax to splash over the sides. This was my cue to pour new wax in from a M&M bag I was holding.

I’m driving around New York City — from the back seat. (For some reason, I have a lot of dreams where I’m attempting to drive from the driver-side back seat, which is somewhat odd, considering as a child I always rode in the passenger front seat, and never the back.) The West Side Highway was mobbed, but I was driving over most of the cars, and swerving in and out of various on- and off-ramps that continually appeared and disappeared. At some point, the car disappeared. I knew that I had to get rid of a camera battery I was holding before I could get the car back, and so I found kanon42 and gave it to her. The car reappears, but now it’s a motorcycle with a bedsheet on it. I tear the sheet off, and it’s the car again.

What a night!

Today is beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. It’s a perfect, crisp fall day, a slight chill in the air, colors abounding, a rainbow projected on my bedroom ceiling (reflected off a CD-R on the floor), no responsibilities, just a pleasant day around the house.

I should probably keep away from the computer, and pay attention to my SO. On the other hand, Everything2 beckons…

I do not understand why Scour Exchange is so buggy. Surely they’ve had enough time to iron out the problems it has… I’d highly appreciate it if every time I was 95% finished downloading various South Park episodes, the thing wouldn’t crap out on me.

I think I’ll get a pumpkin today.

See my dreamlog writeup for today for more.

Too Damn Early: Woke up. Drove her to class. Drove her to withdraw from Precalculus. Came home. Lazed about in bed.

Midday: Woke up again. Went to Amy’s. Got a migraine.

1500: Went to Summit, NJ, to see Mom, 2nd-cousin, uncle. Mom gave me a fioricet (butalbital) and sent me home. I like phenobarbitols. They make my head stop hurting.

1900: Home. Pizza. Everything.

I am feeling far too crappy to be witty or engaging. This writeup is for my own record.

This is a dreamlog, archived from Everything2.

A kleptomaniac’s dream. I’m in a Barnes & Noble, and I’ve come to steal three books: two art books (Andy Goldsworthy), one on Python. Standing in the self-help aisle, searching for the metal strip. Finding it, pulling it out, and then walking out of the store carrying three metal strips instead of the books I wanted.

An observer shouts at me and throws a tomato.

I’m certain there was a great deal more detail, but it all went away too quickly upon waking.

Today has been positively awful.

What else did I expect? It’s hell day. Thursday. I could never get the hang of Thursdays. I skipped the same two classes (Language Acquisition and Cognition) that I skipped on Monday, meaning I’m now a week behind. I went to Syntax, and on the way there developed a pounding headache. Having stuggled through class, I went to the library to take a nap — two hours later, here I am, with a pounding headache and messy hair.

The day did have two good points. First, my syntax professor baited the Annoying Old Man Who Asks Stupid Irrelevant Questions That Show He Has No Understanding Of What’s Being Discussed (I’ll do a writeup about him someday soon). The annoying old man, in the middle of a quite interesting discussion of Case and the use of PRO with infinitives, raises his hand and asks if it’s “appropriate” to use the word “kill” in a scholastic environment. The sentence the professor was using was “It would be unfortunate to kill Mary.”

So the professor thinks for a moment, and says “yeah, you know, you’re right.”

And changes it to It would be unfortunate to rape Mary.

The class cheers.

Second, I’ve been made an editor, which makes me happy. I hope to do good, and well.

This is a dreamlog, archived from Everything2.

Paypal was going nuts.

Every few minutes, a new transaction would come in, informing me that You’ve got a pumpkin, or some such similar nonsense. This is bad.

I fall over, and wake up. The room is filled with woodchips; I have to dig my way out of them, constantly fighting gravity, trying to get to a ladder leading up and out through a hole in the ceiling of a grain elevator.

The phone rings; I wake again. Tarzan-style, I’m swinging from the cat5 that’s strung across the ceiling. I fall, and keep falling.

I wake up.

Description of argument in the wee hours of the morning about cardinal directions has been noded separately.

kanon42 meets my mom, today.
The last time one of my SOs met my mom, the first few minutes (for which I, having gone separately from a different starting point, was not present) consisted of my mother

• extorting her not to breed with me (“don’t pass on those horrible genes of ours!”)
• telling her that I’m weirder than I first seem, and that anyone with any sense should run away, very fast

.

Fortunately, anyone who comes within shouting distance of me and has two brain cells to rub together can generally percieve the quality if perhaps not the quantity of my eccentricity (and thus, if they stay within shouting range it’s their own damn fault).

This also means we spend several hours amid rush hour commuters on public transportation. I intend to amuse myself with Terry Pratchett.

This is a dreamlog, archived from Everything2.

I must lay off Everything2 for a while. When you have Everything dreams several days in a row, you know you’ve been noding too long.
I’m sitting at miso, noding away, when the lights go out and the UPS starts shrieking.

_BEEP^BEEP_BEEP^BEEP_BEEP^BEEP

People start filling the room — thefez, juliet, yossarian, jet-poop… and as they do, they drop off the Other users list. Everyone seems a tad confused. Apparently, the power failure kicked them out of E2, and into reality — and thus into my room.

juliet is wearing a short, tight skirt, which she is fidgeting with. She sits on the corner of my bed and pulls a Sanrio-branded cell phone from her purse and begins jabbering in Greek — at least, I think, in the dream, that it’s Greek. She’s actually saying Do Co Mo over and over.

My housemate Rick enters, and everyone freezes in place, then disappears.