Archive for August, 2003

Zombie Flick

In the early hours of the morning I woke up a little distressed because of the fact that I had been inside a recurrent zombie movie. I was living in a tall thin terrace house with high ceilings and a kitchen in a basement at the back of the house. There were a set of rickety wooden stairs leading down from the living room into the kitchen.

In the first recurrence of the dream I was walking down the stairs into the dark kitchen. I became aware of something down there so I went back upstairs and got a torch. I ventured back down the stairs shining the torch around the room until it fell onto the face of a large zombie standing in one corner. It spoke to me in a slow lumbering voice, it may even have said hello. I started backing up the stairs when a hand reached through the steps and grabbed my ankle. The zombie below the stairs wrenched me through the steps, shattering them into little pieces. I was devoured by a faceless collection of zombies in the dark.

The dream restarted with me at the top of the stairs, except I was now aware of what lurked in the shadows of the kitchen. I was also aware of details about how the zombies had come to be there, because even though I was in the dream I was also an observer, watching it like a film.

The zombies were large, mostly humanoid and inanely stupid. They were in the kitchen because they had been told that food can be found in the kitchen. I saw a short video clip showing me that when they had first ventured into the kitchen the light was on. One of the zombies was a giant toad that was sensitive to the bright light. It had flicked its tongue out and smashed the light globe, electrocuting itself in the process.

I stayed at the top of the stairs shining my light around looking at them all. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen my dog Charlie for a while and I instantly suspected that she had been devoured. I was anxiously running through the house calling her name as reality filtered in.

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Math Tutor

I lay in a double bed at the end of a long hospital ward. There were several televisions around me and the bed was covered with pieces of paper.

My maths tutor was in the room and I was asking her questions about a problem I was trying to solve. She was a petite Eastern European woman with long brown dreadlocks.

She sat on the bed with me explaining each stage of the solution and I became gradually aware of a growing infatuation. She stood to go to the toilet but kept talking to me as she walked away. As she retreated down the long thin ward she occasionally turned her head so I could hear her voice. She gradually faded away and I went back to the problem I was trying to solve. I realize now that it was a problem with scaling Cartesian coordinates that I was attempting at work yesterday.

Judy Garland

In my dream this morning my girlfriend’s mother was the film star Judy Garland. In the dream world Judy was the recent recipient of a Nobel prize. We were spending some time with her, but we became increasingly annoyed with her tendency to emphasize all the ways in which she had made more of a success of her life than either of us had.

Pasta Party

I found myself in the midst of a party I was throwing in an apartment I had just bought. It was full of people, although I’m not entirely certain I knew any of them.

After the party had warmed up a little someone put on a Massive Attack CD. The song began with a simple but enticing kick drum pattern. Someone turned the lights off and the crowd of party goers all stood swaying to the rhythm.

The song built up slowly and gently until it reached a point of tension and exploded into complex rhythms, the apartment full of people went wild. The dancing carried on in a frenzy until one by one people fell back into their seats in exhaustion.

In the lull after the song ended two of the guests appeared from the kitchen with a large bowl of pasta and grated carrot. One of them sat down and the other tipped it all into his lap. He then began eating mouthfuls of the mixture out of his friend’s lap. The seated guest laughed throughout the process and then threw up a half digested stream of pasta onto the back of the head buried in his lap. We all found this rather amusing.

The Consultant

This morning I was invited into a meeting with some forensic scientists to consult on an issue that now escapes me. I was attending the meeting with my mentor and for this and other reasons I was permeated with nervous anxiety. Shortly into the meeting I was asked a direct question to which I had no useful reply. On the spur of the moment I launched into a stream of bullshit, drawing upon the thinnest of connecting ideas for support. They accepted my reply and the meeting moved on. After the meeting I was walking silently with my mentor, he turned and gave me an approving nod. It was a beautiful moment.

Russian Prostitute

This morning I was sitting in the back room of bakery that belonged to a friend of my family. He was making pesto twists on the bench while he chatted with me. The bakery doubled as a brothel and I was waiting for a Russian prostitute he had arranged for me. He was assuring me that she would be clean of any viruses and very talented. The dream drifted onward before she arrived.

Road Rage

I have a regular fantasy while riding my bike. Usually inspired by a motorist who pulls out in front of me or opens their door so I have to swerve around it into the traffic behind me.

I imagine myself crashing into the car, my bike crumpling and my body tumbling over the car and onto the road. I can see myself living as a cripple, while the motorist has gotten away with a measly fine for negligent driving.

I have become hardened and bitter, obsessed with revenge. I acquire a gun and assorted sharp instruments. I track the motorist down and wait outside their house in my wheelchair. When they appear I tell them who I am and what they did to me.

I can see a mixed look of detachment and suspicion on their face. I pull out my gun and they begin running away. I shoot them in the back of the legs and watch them fall to the ground. Blood spurts into the air as they are trying to crawl away wailing miserably.

I wheel myself slowly up beside them and hack off their limbs one by one. When the police show up I no attempt to escape, I am just waiting patiently beside the dismembered motorist.

I imagine myself speaking calmly to the journalists, justifying my actions to the world. I finish the interview by encouraging others to take violent revenge against negligent motorists.