Dreams of late
25 September 2008 10:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
3rdragonI must be getting enough sleep. I'm getting weird dreams again.
Last night I dreamed that I was having a meeting with a figure of authority. A professor or something similar. And it wasn't going well. We needed to bring in his boss to get the boss to approve something (a really sensible something, but the boss was kind of a jerk, and had a propensity for pointing pool cues at people at close range. I knew this when we started, but meh). So we had this interview/meeting. We were somehow on a lower plane than the boss, and he pointed pool cues at us, probably 2-3 feet from our faces. One of the cues was broken, and I had the other piece (there was dream-logic to explain this, but I don't remember it). At this point the ridiculous part of me that suggests that I do silly things (the part that is usually involved when I do things that result in Mel making threats on my life) was all for throwing the other piece of pool cue at boss-dude. And I gave in and threw it. Needless to say, he was not pleased. At this point the rest of me was yelling that the smart thing to do was to apologize and grovel, but the reckless part of me was fed up, and perfectly aware that this situation was probably unsalvageable, so it refused to back down, and I just said, "I don't like people pointing sticks at my face." This subjected me to a lecture on how this was a stupid way to behave to someone from whom I was asking a favor and a change in the stick-pointing range from 2-3 feet to 2-3 inches, but I had decided that I didn't care about whatever-it-was to deal with this anymore, so I got up on the same level as the boss-dude, instead of having my head at his knees.
(And somewhere in here I woke up enough that it probably doesn't count as dream anymore, but the end was the only part I liked, so I'm going to keep telling it.)
I told bossdude, "Where I come from, you don't point weapons at people not wearing protective gear, and that's close enough to a weapon in my book. Furthermore, I really don't trust you enough to let you stick a piece of wood in my face, and I'm not going to efface myself just so that you can have a power trip. If you wish to continue our discussion about your right to wave pointy objects in my face, I can be found at Scott Gym from 7-10 Mondays and Wednesdays, and will fence you in any of the three weapons." And I left.
I liked my dream the night before last much better. It started with a bit that I don't particularly remember that involved rebels trying to get to their ship on a space station but not being able to and just escaping in some random ship they could grab. The bit I remember started with the cat-alien, who may have been me (or perhaps I was just watching her most of the time?) and the other one, who was more important than the cat-alien somehow (a king, or commander, or possibly just injured and therefore requiring more care). They weren't strictly affiliated with the other group of rebels, but they knew about the captured ship, and either got captured themselves or snuck in to try to make off with the ship. The plan was that the other would just sit tight in their pod while the cat-alien snuck outside to reconnoiter. At this point I switched viewpoints to the commander of the space station, who was watching this procedure from afar. And since I had a semi-omniscient viewpoint, I was aware that the people of the space station were not evil, merely prejudiced and zenophobic and inclined to use things for their own ends. He was watching the cat-alien, intending to shoot "the beast," but she slipped by too quickly and hid in the shadows. And then I was/was with the cat-alien again, and was sliding along a shadowed corrider/canal of the space station. She/I may not have required oxygen. We got into the main, better-lit part of the ship, and she slipped along the corridors. She/I rounded a corner and was assulted by a smell/sound/sense of wolf/dog creatures without sense or sentience, living merely for the hunt and the kill. At the same time, the omniscient bit knew what these creatures were and why the space station people kept them (it was either for hunting or some sort of cock-fighting type thing). She fled, around one of the arcs of the space station (sorry,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vorindi, while the station was round the floor was on the wrong side for it to be a hard sci-fi dream), past a door and then into the next one, which led into some sort of amphitheater. It was full of movie-theater type seats, and she slipped under some as people started to come in and the music started to pound. She tucked herself into the shadow, hoping to learn something of use. Just before I awoke, I realized that she must have a pouch, like a marsupial.
There was another dream, but I don't remember it. The space dream was cooler, anyway.
In other news, my birthday and a trip to Sevilla tomorrow
Last night I dreamed that I was having a meeting with a figure of authority. A professor or something similar. And it wasn't going well. We needed to bring in his boss to get the boss to approve something (a really sensible something, but the boss was kind of a jerk, and had a propensity for pointing pool cues at people at close range. I knew this when we started, but meh). So we had this interview/meeting. We were somehow on a lower plane than the boss, and he pointed pool cues at us, probably 2-3 feet from our faces. One of the cues was broken, and I had the other piece (there was dream-logic to explain this, but I don't remember it). At this point the ridiculous part of me that suggests that I do silly things (the part that is usually involved when I do things that result in Mel making threats on my life) was all for throwing the other piece of pool cue at boss-dude. And I gave in and threw it. Needless to say, he was not pleased. At this point the rest of me was yelling that the smart thing to do was to apologize and grovel, but the reckless part of me was fed up, and perfectly aware that this situation was probably unsalvageable, so it refused to back down, and I just said, "I don't like people pointing sticks at my face." This subjected me to a lecture on how this was a stupid way to behave to someone from whom I was asking a favor and a change in the stick-pointing range from 2-3 feet to 2-3 inches, but I had decided that I didn't care about whatever-it-was to deal with this anymore, so I got up on the same level as the boss-dude, instead of having my head at his knees.
(And somewhere in here I woke up enough that it probably doesn't count as dream anymore, but the end was the only part I liked, so I'm going to keep telling it.)
I told bossdude, "Where I come from, you don't point weapons at people not wearing protective gear, and that's close enough to a weapon in my book. Furthermore, I really don't trust you enough to let you stick a piece of wood in my face, and I'm not going to efface myself just so that you can have a power trip. If you wish to continue our discussion about your right to wave pointy objects in my face, I can be found at Scott Gym from 7-10 Mondays and Wednesdays, and will fence you in any of the three weapons." And I left.
I liked my dream the night before last much better. It started with a bit that I don't particularly remember that involved rebels trying to get to their ship on a space station but not being able to and just escaping in some random ship they could grab. The bit I remember started with the cat-alien, who may have been me (or perhaps I was just watching her most of the time?) and the other one, who was more important than the cat-alien somehow (a king, or commander, or possibly just injured and therefore requiring more care). They weren't strictly affiliated with the other group of rebels, but they knew about the captured ship, and either got captured themselves or snuck in to try to make off with the ship. The plan was that the other would just sit tight in their pod while the cat-alien snuck outside to reconnoiter. At this point I switched viewpoints to the commander of the space station, who was watching this procedure from afar. And since I had a semi-omniscient viewpoint, I was aware that the people of the space station were not evil, merely prejudiced and zenophobic and inclined to use things for their own ends. He was watching the cat-alien, intending to shoot "the beast," but she slipped by too quickly and hid in the shadows. And then I was/was with the cat-alien again, and was sliding along a shadowed corrider/canal of the space station. She/I may not have required oxygen. We got into the main, better-lit part of the ship, and she slipped along the corridors. She/I rounded a corner and was assulted by a smell/sound/sense of wolf/dog creatures without sense or sentience, living merely for the hunt and the kill. At the same time, the omniscient bit knew what these creatures were and why the space station people kept them (it was either for hunting or some sort of cock-fighting type thing). She fled, around one of the arcs of the space station (sorry,
vorindi, while the station was round the floor was on the wrong side for it to be a hard sci-fi dream), past a door and then into the next one, which led into some sort of amphitheater. It was full of movie-theater type seats, and she slipped under some as people started to come in and the music started to pound. She tucked herself into the shadow, hoping to learn something of use. Just before I awoke, I realized that she must have a pouch, like a marsupial.There was another dream, but I don't remember it. The space dream was cooler, anyway.
In other news, my birthday and a trip to Sevilla tomorrow
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Date: 26 Sep 2008 12:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 26 Sep 2008 05:27 pm (UTC)