recently on ILX Dreams...

Sunday: Lots of different dreams, but all about horses Monday: Weird, there was an end of the world ball, I was supposed to be going, but said I'd get there later. I went to a kind of run down lido place instead. There were lots of pools looking over a lake. There were dead trees, all white, forming a screen in front of the lake, and they were full of children climbing and sitting in them like starlings. There were also a group of oldladies from Florida peddling about in gingham pedelos. When I got back to my friends the end of the world ball had finsihed, it only lasted 45 minutes. We sat about and waited for the end of the world. Last night: I got made president of the USA for no reason and spent the whole night argueing about free hea

(sorry that sounds a bit creepy)

Previously I had dreamed that Jody Beth Rosen was the significant other of Mike Hanle y. I told Jody Beth that one at the Matos FAP also.

Last week, I dreamed about doing something kind of interesting, but I don't remember what that was, either. Except afterwards (still in the dream) I was telling someone I used to know about 1,000 years ago about it and they just didn't understand any of it and I was getting angry with them. Part of my explanation had something to do with Laurel & Hardy, which is really quite disturbing.

Also last week, I dreamed about someone being sexually/romantically interested in me, but it wasn't anyone I know and nothing actually happened. Obviously, the utterly surreal theme of this one made it pretty lucid. :)

i was listening to the radio at work and it was this great song i'd never heard before, sounded like old orbital - brown album type caliber. and the dj comes on and says the song is by 'hitler'. yes the hitler, he went on to say hitler had faked his death at the end of ww2 and retired to his ultra-secret underground layer to work on his true passion and create the world best pop album.

it was a great song, really catchy bass line.

Your fate is clear.

(where the hell is Phoenix Park? I've never heard of it)

It was the early afternoon on a hot, sunny, Halloween day and I was driving with a date to a costume party. We approached a large house, which was raised up on stilts. Underneath there was a concrete pad with a scattering of picnic tables and people milling about - some in costume, some not. We got out of the car and who should greet us but the owner of the house - Chaki! "Hey guys, this is Doug! He used to be my roommate!" He introduced himself to my date, as well as his rat terrier, Tip-Tip, who she was instantly enamored of.

Cue a flashback sequence within the dream in which, decades ago, Chaki's previous house had burned down in a fire. I had reached out to him and given him a place to crash until he got on his feet, much to my original roommate's ire. He ended up staying for several months, and there was a dream montage of memorable moments.

Back under the house, I found a Dutch garage rock compilation on one of the picnic tables, I noticed that side B featured a cut by a band called the Architects, but sometimes when I looked back at the jacket, their name was the Scientists (this is not related to any real-world bands of those names). I was excited to see this, and put it on the phonograph. Everybody was happy and danced around.

When the song was over, Chaki's ladyfriend and apparent schedule-keeper, informed him that it was now time for everyone to go to the pool. Chaki showed up wearing a towel as a cape and carrying Tip-Tip. "Well," he said with a devilish grin, "do you guys want to swim in my luxury pool...or my toilet pool?!" This disgusted my date, who couldn't seem to tell if it was a joke. "Uggggh, you're not serious?" "Yeah," said Chaki. "Usually it's just me and Tip-Tip!" Then he made an even crazier face and stuck out his tongue and waggled it around. This made my date giggle, and, now in on the joke, she said "Oh no! Tip-Tip!"

Our brains are connection machines, and now every time the word "pool" comes to mind I'm just one hop from "toilet pool"

“Oh no! Tip-Tip!”

dying

I was partnered at work with a well-known ILXer and found myself desperate to impress them.

We were sent to a conference in Liverpool and flew there (from London!).

On the plane we were making fun of The Guardian’s rebrand. It had been rebranded as “The Monday Guardian” even though it came out seven days a week.

I had a really good joke about Whizzer and Chips that I wanted to make but the ILXer couldn’t hear it. We were in a noisy taxi now. He suggested that we stop the taxi and break into someone’s house where it would be quieter and he could hear the joke.

I was nervous but we found an empty house and smashed the front door. I told the joke and the ILXer left, unamused. I ran after him, but it turned out the house owner was still upstairs and called the police. I blacked out.

I woke up surrounded b police outside the house. One of the police said “You went into a rage, broke your leg, and have been in a coma for two months.” I lifted up my trouser leg - my leg wasn’t broken.

Ok but who is the well known ilxer who suggested breaking into someone’s house?

ok but what was the joke

I think you should be more interested in the break in aspect, you know, considering your…difficulties

The joke I can’t remember… I think it may have been the idea of a joke rather than a joke itself.

The person I can remember but will never reveal (as it feels a bit non-consensual, also I am chicken)

it's ned

I had a dream in which i was sitting beside budo jeru having a conversation.

I should make it clear i do not know budo jeru, nor have i ever interacted with him/her/they on ilx.
Also budo is never seen in my dream. They are sitting beside me and out of my view. I dont know how i know it is budo jeru.

I am showing budo an old copy of a straight no chaser mag with a picture of Gilles Peterson on the cover (although, when i wake up i realise it is actually a picture of Martin Freeman, as are all other Gilles Peterson appearances in the dream)

I say "He was everywhere back then." And i pull out several more issues all with Gilles Peterson ( Martin Freeman) on the cover.

Then i say something about Gilles being a skinny little guy with red hair. And i feel Budo tense up. O no. Is he a red head? Is he offended?

We are now walking in the snow side by side. We approach a woman and two small children. They are dressed in pure white designer suits. Their skin is marble white. She is wearing a boyar hat.

Behind them is a simple smallish set of roman columns. Gilles Peterson walks towards us. He is also in a white designer suit. His hair is a quite large but very unkempt pompadour. His face has a greyish colour and bulges at odd places in odd shapes. Like a botox nightmare.

He begins to levitate.

He moves in the air so his body is horizontal. He begins to turn as if on a rotisserie.

And then drops to the ground. We stand over him and budo jeru nudges him with his foot. Gilles seems lifeless.

"Looks like he's had some work done," budo comments.

And i woke up needing a pee and was laughing so hard as i walked to the bathroom that i banged my head quite hard on a lamp.

Like it.

Pamela Anderson is leading a halftime sports discussion roundtable with Anna Karina (who appears in black and white), Deion Saunders, and Tony Toni Tone

20+ years later I go back to a church where I got shot during… something? Like a youth group activity or a choir event. Only it sort of morphs into an high school party memory as a cop is pouring out my 750 of vodka after I’ve been shot twice in the leg with a .22. Still definitely at the church though.

At the… reunion… I confront the guy who shot me, we’ve all known he did it and just never said anything to the cops at the time? The shooter was a real person and he was cool at the time.

was at a pub with like half a dozen ILM posters, i don't remember exactly who but it was all people i was meeting for the first time. the subject of our favorite post-punk bands came up and i mentioned Magazine and there was like a record scratch moment and then i got laughed out of the room, apparently everyone else present thought they were a terrible band. i left in an inconsolable state thinking that i would never be able to post on ILX again out of embarrassment

'Magazine?' ha, uh yeah no
SMH

Last night I wrote e short story called “the trophy wife” and I showed it to my crush and she was very impressed

My irl days are so fantastically pleasant, I walk the dog, I go to the gym, I eat lunch, I work at the computer all afternoon, I make dinner, I have a pint around the corner, I watch something with my boyfriend— idyllic and boring and perfect.

My nights have these dreams that are so increasingly convoluted and vivid that I struggle with “keeping things straight” reality-wise. The bucolic lunch I had with my brother yesterday seems less-real than the job I had last night doing a large buy of cocaine for a Trump party, at which DJT strangely got stabbed, at I was required to take the fall for it, and they filmed several videos of me threatening DJT before they removed the knife, and I was tasked with ensuring every attendee had exactly as much cocaine as they desired, and I was paying for everything with $25,000 USD bills (which I’d never seen before and I’m sure don’t exist), it was some weird Vonnegut dream and I’m struggling to recover from it

They used to exist, but they were only used for bank transfers between Federal Reserve banks before electronic transfer was invented.

I just checked, and I was wrong--$10,000 and $100,000 bills for bank transfers did exist, but not $25,000.

Was hanging out with Xi Jinping, he was really nice.

I was travelling through London on a floating chair, getting increasingly stressed about a train home i was running late for. People from the hotel were offering me cold food packages to take home. I had a suitcase that was leaking money onto the pavement.

I was somehow the producer (or someone else in charge, but not the director) of a mockumentary about a group of people trying to make a 'Happy Days' reboot. There was panic on the set when we realised we didn't have the rights to the theme song. Also there was a huge snowstorm in whatever dream city I was in so getting around to meeting different people involved in this thing was really complicated.

A few nights ago: I watched a Jean-Luc Godard film that included a long shot made by attaching a camera to the top of a tree and dropping the tree down a mile-deep canyon, slowly turning end-over-end. I was amazed by this innovation in filmmaking and ran to tell someone (I think my wife) to come watch this scene on tv (I think on the Criterion Channel).

Last night: I was on a temporary job in New Jersey and someone gave me a ticket to see Thelonious Monk playing at The Stone in NYC. I went into the city and was mind-blown that The Stone was the size of a city block, luxurious and lit-up, with at least a dozen theatres/live music venues under its roof. At first I couldn't see Monk's name on the marquee, but then I turned the block and there it was on the main marquee, half a block long. It was thrilling...but then I thought "how old IS Monk...?" and woke up.

last night I took gabapentin for sleep and this morning dreamed about a juvenile albino tree sloth that needed my help and was really scared of cats.. it spoke a little but not chatty
I gave it some monterey jack cheese

Gaba gives weird dreams if you take it before bed! I usually take it in the morning, but the other night I took one after a bout of insomnia…and dreamt

That I was at a party with Kim Gordon and she was being typically aloof. I wanted her to be my friend so I told her a joke:
Why do donuts like Jane’s Addiction?
And then I sang a chorus of a JA song that was like “ohhhh ohhhhh ohh ohhhhh”
And she thought it was hilarious and then she was my friend and I let her drive my car but she had trouble because she was significantly shorter than me

In retrospect, I can’t think of any “ohhh ohhh” type Jane’s Addiction songs and it should have been RHCP

Up the Beach is like oooooo oooooo oooooo, but that wouldn't work for the joke. Good dream joke, though.

Last night I invented a new genre of rap called stomp clamp heyooo

Psych eval - they delivered the report in the form of a quantegy 2" master reel tape containing a delicately orchestrated 60's pop song with the findings sung over the top Petula Clark style. The doctor said, oh I made a mistake and had to take the tapw back and rerecord the vocal.

Dying at stomp clap heyooo.

My most recent dream involved being at a wine bar with my wife in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Somehow I had to leave to procure a second bottle, and after a lengthy hike I remembered my band was playing. We were only on a 15 minute break and there was no way I was going to make it back in time.

NO was pretty accurately detailed for a dreamscape, usually I only dream fictional locations.

A couple of weeks ago I dreamed I was playing Hammond organ onstage with Vanilla Fudge. It was fun! They gave me a solo spot. Then the following night I was on tabletop guitar with Band of Susans at a gig in a classroom, we were all bashing them and making a hell of an open-tuned racket. I was hoping I'd dream this kind of thing every night but alas my oneirological tour concluded there.

I dreamt an Onion article, it was something along the lines of "Vatican still buzzing about new pope", with lots of comments from church officials talking about how exciting it is that there's a new pope, but they're sure soon the novelty will wear off and they'll get sick of him. Ended with a cardinal saying something like "to be honest I can't wait until the pope becomes just one of the guys".

Don't quit your day job, subconscious.

Had a brief sleep last night and an onslaught of texts both social and professional as a near-narcoleptic “I have to nap now” moment occurred. Drifted into sleephood with unfinished conversations having my phone vibrating.

Dreamed I was on my phone, posting to ILX. I kept falling asleep as I typed and each post eroded into predictive text. I kept posting and posting these strange nonsense posts, falling in and out of slumbermode. In my dream, I woke up and was reading the things I’d posted and felt horrified and embarrassed. I begged the mods that they delete my nonsense posts. Mods obliged and wittily deleted my entire post history.

I dreamt that La Lechera and I were going to do a percussion duo with projections as part of an event I was curating that would take place outdoors, with a dozen other bands doing music + visuals. I had just come up with the theme: trains. I think LL was going to use a model train to roll around her snare. My kit was all in pieces and she was kinda annoyed how long I was taking to pack my gear so that we could go rehearse.

That sounds awesome!

Only half-slept all night last night but the dreams were beyond wild— it felt like the dreams of somebody who was losing touch with reality, losing cognitive powers, they felt incredibly strange and wrong and scary.

There were many strange plots and diversions but Cory Doctorow was a constant antagonist, this looming force of somebody who was attempting to stalk me and ruin me and murder me— which is so weird, I’ve read many of his articles but I couldn’t place a face to him and don’t think I’ve ever spoken his name aloud in conversation—

But the weirdest ever was that large part of the dream narrative was me attempting to— while on the run— finish a masterpiece novel that had this title that was always changing, like changing in front of my eyes, but would approximately be called: “Mightn’t we see gone those who it might be best that they mightn’t see themselves out”.

I was reading Brontë poems before bed which might explain that last bit

Dreamt that I was at a party with robot versions of my dead friend coming on to me. Left the party because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to resist.

xp unexpected Cory Doctorow interactions are a real thing. I was at a comics shop in LA staring at the wall when someone said "get Transmetropolitan!"look over and it's him, sitting on a plush velvet chair. (I got it, didn't like it.)

I dreamed that I was in a casino where I had found a slot machine (?) that always returned a profit, no matter what I put in it (e.g., one penny always returned multiple pennies, plus some junk that I would sift out and put behind a convenient door in the machine). And it paid some handsome returns when I put in bills; before long I had amassed a fat roll of currency, which I was hiding in my purse and hoping I could take out of the casino without drawing security's attention. I assume it's an illustration of my materialism and the trite truism of getting out of life what you put into it.

Also, I only remember dreams when I wake up during them. And as a result I am dead tired right now.

I dreamt I returned to ilxor only to find that stet had been hard at work at a new ilxor experience, and it now was a one-page app with a persistent sidebar like outlook or something, popovers, and other horrible web design trends.

Glad it wasn't real.

SHUDDER

thanks ilxor for not

Singer Paul Williams wouldn't let me complete an Excel spreadsheet for work until I finished cooking his panfried chicken thighs. But he ate them too quickly, and I never got to work on my spreadsheet.

A new mode of transport has come to the UK in the form of these terrifying Gothic horse-and-carts that fly through the sky on batwings. I'm sitting on the beach at Brighton seeing these phantom funeral hearses full of passengers streak across the sky and asking my friends how it's even possible. They look at me as if I'm asking daft questions. Later I buy a ticket of my own from the bus station.