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Saturday, January 28th, 2012

Time:6:47 am.
a dim classroom of students of varied age and corpulence hammers a salvo of keystrokes in response to the instructor's cue. acknowledging this salvo, I giggle.

no one else does.
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Friday, July 17th, 2009

Time:9:07 am.
leeches and skinny little pink worms that sting
writhing like intestines
amber blue
in my bed
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Monday, June 23rd, 2008

Time:6:07 am.
more homebrew nintendo
link to the past map parallax
I think he's a character now, not just an isolated dream
he likes reverse engineering stuff from nintendo games
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Saturday, April 5th, 2008

Time:8:02 am.
Overpriced Filipino food and soda out of a soda fridge. Hanging out with my brother.

Awesome sex that shook me to me to my core, loosened up my soul, and whited out my visual field.
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Thursday, March 20th, 2008

Time:3:47 am.
j_chot awesome party
machinedrum beats
looks like john's house
but it's spike's house
spike wants beverages
he used to walk a long way to get them
pain in the ass national park
where our parents used to take us
they built a rest stop
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Tuesday, February 19th, 2008

Time:2:41 pm.
Honestly it's been foggy lately.

What I do remember is a used video game store that looks like a cabin, and this seems to be a recurring thing.
Messy, NES cartridges all over the floor.
Video game stores mean something in my dream language. Probably a good dream symbol.
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Tuesday, December 18th, 2007

Time:6:57 am.
Field trip. Blue skies and snow, afternoon. Inside thrift store, warm yellow lights. A tape recorder - big, painted green metal. 1/4" jack for play, rewind, ffwd - I assume CV. Lust begins. Man in parkinglot in car. Old. Strange hair, scary eyes. Opens mouth when I see him, lets out terrifying sound that never goes away. Like a voice sample with a strange arpeggio (0xx -> 00?). I move to the other side of the building, it's still as if he's right behind me, but everywhere I look he's not. Phase and direction change but they are illegible. He may as well be screaming from inside my skull.

Library. Again with the warm yellow lights. It must be group reading time, everyone with the same book. I look through the stacks, find something cool. Decide to come back for it. Everyone puts the same book back, leaves. Library workers take all the books off shelves, row by row. Checkout lines look just like wal-mart (specifically, super wal-mart but that's all there is anymore, amirite?). Nobody's wearing shoes, and the floor is slick, so I run and sockslide. I notice someone up in front of me doing the same. But before losing inertia, he squats and propels himself with his hands. Like surfing. I try it and it's pretty fun.
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Sunday, November 4th, 2007

Time:7:16 am.
My boss wants to take us out to lunch. He says we're going to Taste of India. Division looks weird, wide, busier, more intimidating, somehow European. Lush deciduous foliage dominates the backdrop moreso than restaurants and pawn shops.

We stop early and the driver opens the back door while the bus is still moving. A 10-year-old Indian (as in, India) kid falls out of the bus and onto the asphalt. He struggles to get up. The bus driver finally slows the bus down nearly to a stop, but it's still rolling. I look around and nobody seems concerned. It doesn't occur to me that maybe they didn't see them. Instead of getting angry or yelling at the driver, I go with it. I get off and join up with the rest of the office team. They don't mention anything about the Indian kid. I assume he's OK.

We are suddenly at what is supposedly a German restaurant. White painted wood pillars and lattice, lush green vines twisting around them. Cheery late morning sunlight pokes through the open air seating. It seems slightly cheesy to me the way Leavenworth did, but attractive, if not exactly charming. Everyone is wearing business suits.

"I haven't been to a bierhaus in a long time," I stammer. Whatever that means.
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Friday, August 31st, 2007

Subject:daydreaming at night
Time:12:07 pm.
Not really a true dream, just something I've been thinking about lately.

I had a dream some weeks ago where there was something that looked like a cross between a trailer and a brown 70s van. It was perched atop a concrete wall set into a hill. It was tall, but not too tall. Tall enough that if you dropped you would feel it but not get hurt. Tall enough to feel perched but not frighteningly high. Comfortably tall. Inside the van/trailer, I'm not sure who was living there, but I think it was a family. There was a huge mess inside. But the mess had been there so long it had sort of become part of the environment, years-old junkmail and stuff. A lot of it was from the 80s - starwars toys, etc. I couldn't smell this place but the sight of the debris creates its own smell, something like cat litterboxes, stale sweat, and dried urine. Somehow this place seemed really comfortable to me, but I felt like I didn't belong here.

I open the door. Outside is quiet. I think I'm in a forest, near the edge possibly close to a highway. The night air is cool and there's a pleasant breeze. A streetlight about 100 feet away. I'm comfortable just sitting on the top of the wall.
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Time:11:59 am.
At my Dad's house. The old one, at Elmendorf. I have some kind of analog synth in the basement. I'm not aware of the make, but I turn it over and it turns out it's a moog. It's got this really fucking cool display, I can't even explain it. It's analog but it has the fluidness of a digital display. I don't remember even bothering with the sound of it, it just looked so fucking cool. The synth itself of course is analog as well. I discovered this way to switch display modes, and in addition to the analog display, there's also other "modes" where different display methods somehow occupy the same space: blinking lights display, an LCD display where there's a nice green on grey motif with antialiased digits - many tiny LCD screens across the board. My favorite is this strange red "neon" looking display where there are LED strips that look sort of in between an LED and a very tiny neon tube, but the tube length varies depending on matrix connections. Totally analog, but again with digital fluidity. Pure sex.

Dad comes into the room and he asks what I'm up to. i tell him I'm playing with this synth and he seems kind of disinterested. Then I tell him it's analog and he's like "Really..." and he starts walking up to it. I don't think Dad really cares about analog stuff in reality, I guess this just somehow represents him being a child of the 70s.
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Monday, August 20th, 2007

Time:3:22 pm.
We move into a house on the wrong part of town. Everyone looks skeevy like the people at the plaza. The house is blue like the house on Mozart and the Whale. Autumn-overcast-pretty like the smell of woodsmoke but I know I'll be looking over my shoulder.

I go to the convenience store to get a hot dog or something junky. It's radiant dim red inside like a giant heat lamp. With walls closing off a behind-the-scenes room, maybe a kitchen, with a contrasting clinical green-white-blue glow. I can smell these two colors clashing, the custodial lime disinfectant smell. An oddly comforting smell but a public smell. Like a warm smile from a stranger. But there are no warmly smiling strangers here, the place is way too big and too dim and red. I have to push and shove my way to the back to find a hotdog and nobody looks happy to be here.

There is a party to go to. Cool nerd kids with weird clothes and hair like from the Smashing Pumpkins 1979 video. Kim comes all the way over from wherever they live now to see us, just cos she's nice and wants to hang out.

We get to the party and people are sitting on the floor but there are "performers" on this big staircase thing setting up their gear. There's not much interaction with the gear, they are like laptop performers with 4-button Simon lights instead of laptops. And they aren't really performing, they are hovering over the simons and talking about how cool they are to their buddies, in groups of 2-4 people per Simon.

For some reason, I step on Kim's hand on purpose. Fairly hard. She yelps and says that was rude. Immediately I feel bad. And immediately I am forgiven. The guilt lingers. The party is still weird. I feel even more guilty that she came all the way over to see this weird nerd party that she probably can't relate to at all.

On the way back we take the highway. Along the highway is a steep hill littered with remnants of the recent alien invasion. Marine, seafaring shapes like anchors and squids heads. "Like something out of Jules Verne", Scully would say.
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Sunday, August 19th, 2007

Time:10:13 am.
A pornographic PD patch?
And surfing YouTube.
I guess I was trying to compensate for not using the computer yesterday.
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Friday, August 17th, 2007

Time:10:06 am.
At something like a drug store. It looks a little run down in here like that dollar store near the K-Mart on Division. I need to make some kind of emergency purchase. I'm looking all over for it and I keep finding similar products but not what I'm looking for. I'm getting frustrated and I don't know why I don't just ask the clerk. Tomo is there. I think Priscilla and/or Yuki too, one of Tomo's buddies. They go in not so much to buy something as to make fun of things in the store.

I think they are getting ready to leave when I realize that the rinky dink part of the store is only like 1/3 of the store. There's a completely different section to it which is huge with dark grey warehouse-like walls and cielings, and a higher roof. There's some kind of green motif to the decorations. I think I found what I'm looking for. I go to the cash register and she says she needs to see my ID for some reason (that's from last night when I ordered a drink, I'm sure, and I was unexpectedly carded.) I look throughout my wallet which is odd because I keep my drivers license in the most accessible spot in the middle of my wallet (but I don't realise this in the dream). While rifling through my wallet, I find $40 in 20 dollar bills (in reality I haven't seen that much cash in a long time, and there's only $15 in my checking account. I seem to be aware of this in the dream), and that should be enough, so I put that on the table. I finally my license in my left shirt pocket. I also find my debit card in my right shirt pocket. The cashier remarks that it's a dumb place to put it. I'm starting to feel stupid so I make some kind of comment about that I'm trying to hurry because there's a line of like 10 people behind me.

Then I'm in one of those inflatable jungle gyms things and a guy who looks like the downstairs neighbor is in it with me. He wants to have a man-to-man talk, and I feel comfortable around him, like we are good friends. We are sitting cross-legged, right next to each other. The sides of our biceps are touching. There is some issue that he wants to talk about that's affecting him because he is "in the Black/Latino spectrum". I wake up kind of confused at that because he looks Samoan to me.
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Saturday, May 5th, 2007

Time:7:40 am.
we're in a house, in a pretty big living room, probably 3 times the size of our current one. we're having a party, or at least a get-together. it's dark but it's early morning dark. it seems like a really weird time to have a party. there's a somewhat abstract painting on the wall of a moon or sun over some ocean waves. it looks just amateurish enough to be found in a thrift store but there's a strong enough feeling to it that someone would actually want to hang onto it. there's another painting to the right of it but I can't remember what it is. the light coming from the window is, again, really weird, especially for a party. the living room is mostly empty, and I'm marvelling at having some empty space in my dwelling again. despite the spookiness of the surroundings, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.

I'm sitting on the floor, probably cross-legged. there's a guy next to me and we're talking about art. we're discussing theme or something like that, and then he says he's trying to figure out what kind of tattoo he's going to get. I point up at the painting of the waves and say that that kind of thing is timeless, because humans have seen the waves and the sun and the moon for "6000 years". Alex then comes up with a newspaper clipping with a picture that has some wavy rainbow lines and words written in between the lines. I ask him where he's going to put it. he says it's not a tattoo then gives a kind of nervous laugh/smile. we start to talk about it then we get interrupted by this really weird lady.

she's pretty tall for a woman, probably more than 6 feet, and has a very straight bob hairstyle and those 50s cat glasses. she starts talking to us about something unrelated and at first it sounds like it could be a joke or something. then she starts to talk about how she doesn't like the "form of speech" of the people here. for some reason, that line seems to universally enrage women. the closest girl in earshot proceeds to pounce her to the floor to restrain her, but not before her eyes turn the same glowing shade of green that's coming from the window, and I notice that they have that "Los Elmos" shape. somehow the normal girl subdues her, I think she dissolved into the floor or something. I have a strong feeling of being prey. another woman comes up and she has the same thing going on. I have the feeling that she was somehow infected by the first woman, in a zombie or chrysalid kind of way. soon I realize that the party has dissolved into a brawl between the weird-eyed women and the not-weird-eyed women. I move to another room and get ready to jump out of the window, but I'm afraid that there's an alien invasion going on outside that's creating the Los Elmos women.

suddenly I am back in the same room, at a different time. no one is here but me. I'm talking to my dad on the phone. a helicopter goes past the window, probably only 10 feet away from me. I tell my dad about it, but I say that it's 3 feet away.

I wake up marveling at the worlds that are created in the 11 minute intervals between snooze button presses.
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Friday, December 8th, 2006

Time:8:04 am.
School, but it's one big weird building.
Alyssa (the girl who works at the service desk at work) is in my science class - she's like a TA (is that what you call them in college)? She asks me to go get some chairs for her downstairs somewhere.
I run into Brian on the way and he wants to talk. Brian has taken on the habit of attaching a plastic turd to the back of his rolling backpack. In fact he changes it every day. And these are some weird looking turds. He's holding me up a bit and I'm kind of wigging out trying to get these stupid chairs for Alyssa. But he tells me how to get where I'm going.
When I get there, I walk past the annex for the new major which is some kind of weird neocon homeland security thing. It's a mixture of theology, business, military strategy and some other shit like that. They even have the cheesy neocon fonts popping out from this big retarded banner.
I end up at a library and there's some transition here to a bedroom full of overcast light. There's a crib here but it's empty. Matt is selling Jake an eighth of weed. It smells minty. He also has this bag about the same size full of what looks like mustard seeds but he calls them "callers" or something. He says I can have a few. I don't know what to expect.
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Friday, December 1st, 2006

Time:10:28 am.
Night time, doesn't seem as cold. Maybe October. On the outside it's a typical upper middle class suburban house, with a big wooden door with faceted glass. Joe (with glasses) from work is here, or is about to be here. This is some other guy's house. He's either a teenager or has some kind of mental problem that makes him a teenager. I don't think he's here. It mostly looks like a normal house on the inside, too. There are plants and fluorescent lights. Like it's his parents' house. But they aren't here and they haven't been here in a while.

He has notebooks everywhere, and the notes seem to be on video games. At the end of each of the notebooks is a plastic compartment that looks like the old white ones that children's VHS tapes used to come in. But instead of tapes there are Nintendo game cartridges, some NES and some SNES. The SNES games all seem to be really rare ones, not imports but Nintendo-programmed games (i.e. Mario games) that never hit the market but had very limited-run prototypes. I notice that there are severed organs on the floor, most of which aren't recognisable but one of them is clearly the top of a skull from a middle aged blond man. For some reason, I don't find this all that disturbing. Or maybe I do but my fascination with his notebooks somehow cancels it out. None of the NES games are Nintendo licensed and they all have labels printed in cheap, store-bought ink on cheap, store-bought Avery labels that don't quite fit. They all have similar art to the prototype SNES games and similar titles, which all seem to imply spinoffs of Mario games. I put one in the NES and sure enough, it's got some of the sprites from one of the Mario games but different artwork, and it feels like it's slightly higher resolution.

In the next dream, Sammy is still alive. He's one of our pets. I'm not sure what the others are, maybe the cats we have now? I look at him and I feel sad and protective because I know he's lived a long time and he'll probably die soon.
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Thursday, October 12th, 2006

Time:10:53 am.
The Nord Micro Modular comes with a case the size of a minivan with the same smooth red painted metal casing. Mine gets sideswiped by a train in Tok, Alaska, population 1,393. I was, well, crushed. But fortunately the Nord was kept safe in our hotel room with its 30 foot long countertops, a nice place to make tunes.

An artist shows me his work. He designs dolls in 3Ds Max and then fleshes them out by hand. The dolls are reminiscent of Bratz with creepy faces (even moreso than most dolls). Their hairs are incredibly realistic, although on a smaller scale. He says it is these tiny follicles that are intended to draw attention to the unrealistic standards of beauty created by fashion and advertising - if they were life-size the hairs would be incredibly thick.
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Tuesday, October 10th, 2006

Time:4:40 pm.
There's a suspension bridge that's also kind of a tourist attraction. The bridge is only 10-15 feet above the water and it's very long, like a couple miles or so, but the reason it's a tourist attraction is that there is a "Loch Ness Monster" that actually jumps over the bridge sometimes. I can't tell what sort of body of water the bridge is going over because it's a really rainy night. Everything is black and gleaming from the lightning and the headlights of the car I'm in. The waves are almost hitting the bridge. There's a woman in the car in front of me and somehow I can hear her voice and see her expression as though she were in the car with me (maybe she is?). We see the monster jump over the bridge in slow motion and it seems angry. She is thinking: something's not right. Funny how it's not the giant Giger-esque monster that bothers her. She perceives that the bridge has crashed down into the water some distance in front of us, just too far to see.

The camera of my mind pans disinterested from this scene as if there was nothing dangerous or unusual about it. Maybe I wasn't really there. I'm outside a restaurant. It's snowing and the windows are pouring warm yellow light onto the snowy ground. There is a man wearing a dirty knit cap and a battered jean jacket who looks kind of like Danny Glover. I comment on his shoes, that they are the same make/model as mine.
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Monday, October 9th, 2006

Time:12:18 pm.
Recall is getting a little better.

There is a mall on base. Not sure which base but it seems to be Elmendorf. The mall's pretty big, looks kind of like the valley mall, I guess? But way less crowded. I'm with Tomo. We go to a juice/smoothie stand and I ask the goateed, bespectacled guy behind the counter what a "Vanilla Smoothie" is. He says it's just vanilla tofu, and makes some kind of sarcastic comment about how "clever" the tofu is.

There were a couple more in there but I didn't write this quick enough and I lost them.

Then I was chasing little kids out from under the clothes racks in apparel at work. I hate work dreams. One of the kids is blonde and has glasses, but his shirt has Japanese writing. Also, he can't speak English, only Japanese. Then I woke up.

Also. There was a pair of 12" discs involved. I wasn't sure whether they were LPs or laserdiscs. I remember thinking they were music but they had that glossy laser rainbow sheen on them.
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Sunday, September 3rd, 2006

Time:6:57 am.
I see them. It doesn't seem like anyone else does. I can't fault them because I haven't tried to tell anyone. Maybe others are the same way, they seem them too and we would rather deny that it's happening because they seem too strong, their infestation seems inevitable and irreversible. But why don't we at least put up a fight? Probably it's the way they've presented themselves to us. Secretive. Polite, almost. Although definitely with an agenda. Like the cautious, otherworldly hum of machinery.

The preferred method at first was to find a host. A seed is planted, the host's behavior gradually changes. It's exponential too: once you really start to notice it in your friend, you can guarantee you'll never see her again. You might later see her face somewhere else, albeit on the body of something so grotesque that you'd rather you hadn't at all. And they move so fast.

Now almost everyone is gone. Lately what they've been doing is driving garbage trucks. When they go to pick up the brown bins, they pick up passers by too. It's useless trying to run and I think this is just as much due to our conditioning as to their speed.. Their blue-black, bony arms snatch people from the street. Generally, if you can see the brown bins, you're fucked. I don't know why they bother being discreet anymore. It seems almost tyrannical.

Speaking of brown bins. Yes, it looks like now is my time. Here he comes in th Mack, they're taking out the trash. Now I see why nobody runs, there's another truck blocking my exit. Oh, they've got me. And what is this? I'm flying... there must be 2 different species and one of them can fly. Their flesh is so cold.

I wish they would've just eaten me alive. I'd rather that than see this. No cars and no one walking. Just empty, lonely grey streets. Not even wind to carry the souls away.

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