Saturday, March 30, 2013

Long nights...

Last night, in my dream, I was hanging out with Marko in a convenience store parking lot on a weekend night, trying to talk him into buying an exotic leather shoulder holster with his new-found SciFi writer's wealth. Why this seemed like a good place to try and have a conversation, when the only place you might find that was more covered up in noisy teenagers would be the stands of the local H.S. football field, is beyond me.

Later, I was herding a minivan down mountain roads, trying to stay in a convoy with MattG. Phlegmmy and the Atomic Nerds were in the back, and graciously not commenting on my driving. The makers of the van, apparently worried about its handling stability, had decided that the best way to keep it from flipping over was to make it impossible to make dramatic Δv control inputs and I was keeping up a running narration of complaints to Matt on a two-way radio:

"I'm trying to keep up, but this accelerator pedal couldn't be more awkwardly placed if they'd put it in one of the HVAC ducts and made you press it with a long screwdriver. And the brake pedal doesn't seem to do anything except give you someplace to rest your foot while you wait for engine braking and friction losses to bring the thing to a stop. And I'm not saying that the steering has an on-center dead spot, but you can spin the wheel through near two revolutions before the steering gear takes notice; either that or the tie rod ends fell out on that last hill..."

That's more-or-less-verbatim dream dialogue, for what it's worth.

The night before, I was aboard an Ohio-class sub where all the missile tubes had been replaced by a big seating area full of longitudinal rows of, like, fiberglass city bus seats. There was a MCPO yelling at us that the carrier group was going to sink us because people kept dropping brooms and whispering and making other noise that apparently showed up better on hydrophones than a yelling MCPO.

The really creepy dream was the night before that. There was a big stone... medieval manor? Town hall? Market? ...type building across the street from my parents' old house, where the neighborhood pool used to be. You know, a stone building with no ground floor entrances and a big old timber scaffolding type porch in front of the main entry on the second level. And there were big wooden barrels of fireworks everywhere. I think I was supposed to be guarding the door.

Anyhow, a bunch of early '70s GM full-size convertibles pulled up and parked all over the road and the grass, full of dudes that looked like a cross between the Lord Humongous's henchmen and Riff Raff, led by a Mansonesque dude that looked like a younger, more wild-eyed Ted Nugent.

They came charging up the steps and got my pistol away from me because it took me a second to realize "Maybe I should be shooting at these dudes?" and draw down, and then they proceeded to caper around setting off fireworks. I tried to slip away in the confusion, wondering why all the fireworks didn't seem to be bringing anybody to investigate, but my escape route was cut off by Ted and a couple of his henchmen, who wrestled me to the ground right there in the front yard of the house I grew up in.

I struggled and tried to fast-talk my way out of what seemed like a bad situation, and Ted was shushing me and telling me it was all right, calm down, that he was a little jealous of me because I was going to "...get to find out the truth about aliens and UFOs and angels and everything... all the beautiful things you're going to see..." and then he looked very serious all of a sudden, looked right into my eyes... "But, yeah, you're going to die."

...and then I woke up sitting bolt-upright in bed and panting.

That was freaky. Closest thing I've had to a nightmare in years.

27 comments:

Scott J said...

The setting for the conversation with Marko was probably selected by your subconscious because I bet you've hung out in a parking lot or three in the past.

Cincinnatus said...

Maybe you should skip the Philly cheesesteak next dinner?

Tango Juliet said...

You obviously need some DA therapy.

New Jovian Thunderbolt said...

Nicotine patches?

Tam said...

Nope.

Robert said...

My dream last night was that my tenant at a house that I rent out (IRL) killed his girlfriend and burned down the house (that my grandfather built). When I got there it was a smoking ruin and there were deputies all over and they took away my brand new P3AT that I had in my back pocket, but for some reason let me keep my S&W4516 that I had on my belt. Weird.

Scott J said...

All my dreams of late have been of me at the reloading bench. I spend most of my spare time there these days.

Anonymous said...

Too much Easter cany...

John said...

OUCH!!! I just hate when that happens. The worst was in THE ROMAN ARENA OF THE VAMPIRES. Closet to Hell I've been in waking or sleeping life -- decades ago, and I still remember seeing the mountains of skulls and decaying heads piled around the GRAND entrance. Which horror, shortly seemed very mild indeed, once one actually IN the arena.

Anonymous said...

Gotta stop pepperoni pizza before bed!
(I know from experience)

gfa

The Great and Powerful Oz said...

I have nightmares that wake me up multiple times almost every night. I ones ones that cause me to wake up creaming a couple of times a week and ones that require me to sleep the rest of the night with the lights every month or so. It's quite unpleasant.

Chris said...

I almost never remember anything about my dreams other than the general feeling of:
Nice
Odd (good but strange)
Weird (strange and bad)
WTF?!? (what was that, and where did it come from?)

Bruce H. said...

>> ... wake up creaming ...

TMI

Scott J said...

Chris, I very rarely remember mine with as much vivid detail as Tam either.

Kristophr said...

OK, I'll subscribe to the mass-transit Ohio class subs idea.

But dear ghod, if you ever find yourself as an NPC guarding a World of Warcraft style fort full of explosives, and a van full of player characters show up, I suggest running like hell.

( word verivication: Surreos )

Anonymous said...

Yea it sounds like the Nuge.
God, I hate when he astral projects.

Gerry

Tam said...

Ted Nugent has always struck me as a bit off, but I never really saw him as a ritual torture-murdering cult leader before. Huh.

Anonymous said...

I think Ted makes up for all the time he sits quietly in a deer stand by talking when he is not in one.

The two times I saw he was holding court and pretty much jawed the whole time. He was very polite to everyone but he never stopped talking.

I do believe he could talk me to death.

Gerry ( who does like quiet)

staghounds said...

Robert- someone besides me carries a 4516?

Drang said...

They stilled talked about Ted when I was in high school, ten (+/-) years later.

I rarely remember dreams, including the one where I was visiting a friend and he told me over breakfast I had woken up the household yelling in Korean--except for a call for fire in English.

One of the few exceptions is one shortly after Mrs Drang and I got engaged, when our tribe was hunting sabertooth tigers. That one was ... interesting.

Robert said...

staghounds - Dare to be different! What can I say. I like the way it fits my hand, and the controls are positioned where I want them. I've tried Glocks but couldn't get over my dislike of the trigger.

Matt said...

Just had one where I was a Boston cop that,in one of those weird moments where u go outside and look at yourself, looked just like Brendan freakin' Frasier. I knew that was a bad sign right there. Bad guys had taken over a power station and all the lights were out and of course I had no NVGs. As I'm working my way in, they open up with a pair of 50s. I dive into a control area as glass is shattering and the only light is a piece of equipment with a glowing vacuum tube behind a grill that throws my shadow against the wall. And while I'm trying to make myself flatter than a piece of paper those 50s keep chattering away. When I woke up my ass was still puckered. I really hate dreams where I'm getting shot at.

Brad K. said...

Arguing for a friend's snazzy holster: In the sense that you are everyone in your dream, you are advocating using windfall resources to cover security basics. And, you want your friend to be ready and secure in life.

The castle is your image of security. The fireworks are the sparkly bits behind your eyelids when pain crosses that "notice me!" threshold. No one responds to the fireworks, or the convertibles, because you are only looking to yourself (plus the internal affairs DUI unit at the local police shop) for security. You don't shoot, because the initial attack doesn't appear fatal; good call.

The fact that the setting changes, and you face a credible threat, is a feeling of loss of security.

You have spent enough time with military types, and shared enough back stories and experiences, that the submarine represents a potent weapon in the national arsenal. In your dream, that weapon of protection has been stripped to ridiculous levels -- thus, no protection, no security against threats.

These are strong images of having control over your life taken from your hands. I am sure your nose doctor will recognize the theme. And maybe recommend a support approach.

Blessed be.

Justthisguy said...

Speaking of Marko, I was just looking at Vox Day's blog, in which he linked to, and excerpted from, Marko's recent post about why self-publishing is the way to go in SF these days.

I also put in a plug for your blog, Tam. The Dread Ilk seem to like their pieces, as do all we sensible folk, so I betcha they'll like to read your writins.

Keads said...

Yeah, driving a minivan qualifies as a nightmare. Anything else pales in comparison.

Anonymous said...

The manor with the fireworks is your current life of pursuing excitement, pleasure and security. You're protecting it but you're not sure why. It leaves you vulnerable. You know there's a truth you're not connected with, but right now it looks like pursuing it or surrendering to it would mean death.

We all go through that. -- Lyle

Anonymous said...

On that last one I was wondering if you had been playing bioshock infinite....