Weird Dream

January 30th, 2010 by tungsai

In my dream, it starts out at a party. It consists of some old friends; Chris, Kale and Rich and they are playing with a band. But it’s break time and we’re all drinking beer. It’s a big house with a basement; I hang out with some people in the basement for a while, but then I head upstairs and get some beer from a huge glass, actually it’s a giant replica of the octagonal tumblers we have at home. Brian goes out to the driveway with somebody else to talk or get something out of his prius. Chris and I begin to sing & play “Air-Conditioned Nightmare” in the band area which is bereft of anybody except us. I’m playing it on my acoustic and he’s just doing the weird mike patton vocal parts. Then he shows me a keyboard and gets it into “casio mode” where it’s playing the rhythm and everything for the proper chord.

Somehow, this fast-forwards to, it’s nighttime and i’m outside in the street outside the party. The neighborhood is a bad one, it seems, and a lot of different people are milling about. I end up in another house with some young mexican guy who is into electronics. He shows me a circuit he’s made. It’s so intricate, that the circuit board it’s on bends under the weight of the components as I try to hold it up vertically. It has RAM, a speaker attached, and the circuits look as intricate as a manufactured board. I ask him what it is, and he says “An inpatient monitor”. I ask, “Wireless?” and he explains yeah, it’s picking up the closed conversations of hospital phone lines. I realize he’s built a radio with decryption from some plans he got from somewhere.

 

<No time to finish, sorry>

Vivid Dream

September 18th, 2009 by tungsai

I was woken up by my daughter crying at 4:30 am a couple nights ago. I was in the middle of a vivid dream; so I decided to record it.

First, Moondog, his brother, and I were all walking east on a two-lane, hilly and wooded road. It was like a state road; well-paved and heavily trafficked by semi trucks. The trucks were coming dangerously close to the side of the road; and though we were on the north side of the road, one semi was in the north lane and nearly hit Moondog. It turns out that the truckers were frequently picking up hitchhikers and prostitutes in the area, and for some reason the thought occurred to take advantage of their risky attitudes. Thus was born the plan to hijack semis. We decided to lure the truckers to our isolated area, get them out of the truck, into this pole barn, and subdue them by throwing bricks at them. They would then be tied up, and put in a nearby wooded ravine, until the job was complete.
So, suddenly, I was at a place just a bit further down the road, that was presumably a semi-truck repair company. The weather was dark and overcast, and it was impossible to tell the time of day. I was with an older, related male, like an uncle, but not a person who actually exists, and I never actually saw his face. The area consisted of a wide, gravel driveway that came from the main road to the south, down about a 50-foot hill, and continued on to the north. Ravines were on both sides of the driveway, and two large pole-barn type structures were on both sides of the wide gravel area. The wide gravel road proceeded up to the north, and abandoned junk and piles of rubbish dotted that area.

Map of the truck repair facility

Map of the truck repair facility

Soon, our first victim arrived.

The truck driver got out of the semi and came into the dusty barn. I remember that his truck was red. He was tall, slim, and wearing a t-shirt that was tucked into his jeans. I do not remember his face, except that he was blond and had a mustache. There was no light in the barn except what came in through the sliding door, and some other opening behind me. I picked up a piece of a brick, and threw it at the driver. My older male relative, the mastermind of our plot, also began to hurl rocks or brick pieces at the driver. The trucker attempted to retaliate by picking up a whole, solid brick, but it was too heavy for him to throw with any effect. Soon, he was subdued.

Then my mind fast-forwards to the next scene. We had captured six semis, all of which were parked side-by-side nearby. The drivers had all been tied up and taken to the ravine just west of the complex and thrown down to the ground there. It was not far enough to kill them; we just wanted to keep them from coming back up at us. At the top of the ravine, we’d hired a Mexican thug to guard the truckers. He did not speak English. He wielded an assault rifle that looked like a stormtrooper gun from Star Wars. However, the thug did not speak English, and my companion had instructed him only to keep the truckers from coming back up the ravine; not to hold them there. Thus, they had all run away. I also noticed that there was a stone walkway that led up to the top of the ravine and the thug had not been guarding it, either! Clearly, our plot was foiled.

I made my way back to the main compound, and started to walk out. The truckers showed up with friends and some family members in all their personal vehicles. They had returned for vengeance! I ran toward their mob of cars & trucks, and jumped up over one of the pickup trucks and continued running. For some reason, none of them immediately pursued me. I surmised that they were after the ringleader, and the thug. I kept running, though, and found myself in a countryside farm area. It was now winter, and about a foot of snow was on the ground. I came upon a farmhouse, and a young child, a girl, was playing in the snow in the ditch across the street from her house. I jumped down into the ditch next to her and laid down. I supposed that if the truckers drove by, they would assume that I was somebody playing with the girl, and would not recognize me, because I was now dressed in winter garb. That is when I woke up to Mia’s cries.

Dream of Jan 15, 2007

January 15th, 2007 by tungsai

I was in a city not unlike Lafayette. It was a college town. A great millitary leader was advancing his legions (All medieval horsemen and spearmen, of course; no modern soldiers) up a major thoroughfare on the eastern half of the city, and then turning to the north-west to confront the forces of his enemy. I was a college student, and some of my fellow college students were there at the bend. We watched the soldiers march by.

Then I was a scout for the good guy’s forces, in a slightly wooded grassy area. The forces of the good guy’s enemies were more like the underbelly rabble of the city, and I had to walk back to the good area through a shady gang area at night. My confidence bore me through, however.

Then I was somewhere on the ocean, and it was WWII. We were near land, but a friendly cargo plane had been hit and it was going down. I watched it try to make a landing in the water with the least amount of damage; but upon first contact with the water, it sort of skipped back up uncontrollably, and then came back down with a crash that tore the wings apart and split the fuselage in two. We boated forward, and I jumped into the water, swimming for survivors, and I had the dream-effect of not being able to detect peripheral vision. However, we did locate one survivor, resembling or perhaps played by Kiefer Sutherland, who described the death of the other crewman who was in charge of the cargo. It played out like a movie in my mind, as so many of my dreams do: The guy was in a large cargo hold of the plane, and it got hit. Boxes and boxes of possibly flammable and explosive material were all around him. It began to light up, and I guess the guy decided he was done for. He jumped down a square cargo hatch hitting his shoulder, and at first I thought he was jumping down to try and get away from the fire & inevitable explosion. But then in slow-motion I saw that he’d wrapped a chain around his neck, and had jumped down to hang himself in suicide, to save himself from a burning death.