6/22/08

I am stuck inside Saw. I am trapped in some bizarre puzzle involving a large square cubic recess of a room surrounded by other such cubes. The room is sunken down by 12 feet, and is suspended one way or another over a great pit, wherein slick dark green ooze seems to broil. An enormous cage surrounds our cube (for there are several there), while the other cubes all slide around.

I sneak into the old man’s mansion, his cult somehow grown to larger numbers (read: 7). I hide in a shadowy corner, not really well hidden, beside a leaning painting, I'm sure of something macabre. I wrap myself up in my black sweatshirt hoping to lend myself better to the dark. It is the scene of adolescent eavesdropping, up against a banister of a darkened upper hallway listening to those speaking in the lights below, hardly hidden oneself save for obscurity.

He knows I was there.

There is a severe impending feeling of inescapable death.

I go home, looking for some way out – to find a way to kill him, to find a way to run forever. I try packing clothes briefly to get away – something like a white sweater is involved for getting down to the arctic or something far like that.

I know it is doomed to fail.

I try getting Wizard to help, but it seems wrong to involve him – and I know it would never work.
He comes for me.



Outside/Inside street party. In particular, someone is having a wedding? The girl has a drum set of sorts set out – but it’s not a drumset. It’s a group of red candle holders that all produce drum sounds (or even rolls) when struck. I try to play the opening to Hammerfall's Legacy of Kings.

Later, we are in a hotel room. Nyar looks up at me and jumps up for my shoulder without my arms even being ready to hold her. Cute.

"Last night I had a vivid dream: I found a place where nothing's what it seems."

6/18/08

I am riding sidecar to a bicycle that Father is driving through the first floor of an overcrowded (market-style), but well-lit indoor mall at night. Bright white lights all around, but the sky is notably dark. We wind around until we reach our goal, some kind of tickets.

We ride off, where the scene rapidly changes to me in a small wooden house. Mother and Sister are also both there, as are some girls who are some kind of metaphorical hippies. They claim that wearing clothes is unnecessary, as is leaving the front door closed (let alone locked).

In time, a craggy 40+ fisherman discovers us. He steps into the house at some point, and backhands one of the girls with a knife. Her blood sprays and she dies a violent death. The rest is a slasher movie.

We discover a ragged housecat wandering through the grotty home and the open streets. Eventually, more appear. We find later that the cats are in league with, or possibly, ARE the murderers, and they are ‘receiving orders’ through communication some other entity via a dusty mirror in the back room. The whole thing reels with terror.

6/15/08

I am trying to take a group picture with the cast of That 70's Show, but there was difficulty getting the picture to take. A couple of spiders crawling just above people's heads/shoulders routinely ruin pictures, moods.

The picture wasn't working, but there were double elevators behind the group and this very short businesswoman, accompanied by 6 large men show up in the elevator. We are on top of a prison, and the men are all convicts, and some are absolute pedophiles, every part the stereotypical description of a pedophile you've ever seen

Then Warhammer appears, and the question arises of whether miniature orc armies might actually be real. The ones in question have fucking INSANE paint jobs - extremely well textured, with deep greens and purples - kind of a visceral bowels-of-the-earth appearance to them, nothing you'd expect out of real objects. Perhaps there's something to this Cyclopean business.

6/14/08

Big concert that I’ve gotten tickets to. There are seven of us, or so, including Legend. In Flames, Opeth, and Disturbed. I’m excited to have Legend there. Brought all my shit, including 2 bags, and 3 typewriters. This group of thugs start fucking with them. I think they were Hispanic - something similar to Crash's Ricky Verona. I start pushing them off my stuff, but there are too many. My attempt to dissuade them with incoherent babblings of madness and rivers of blood does nothing. Jerry Stiller comes over in a wheelchair, says some quote by Stephen King about standing up for yourself and persuades them to leave with one gesture of one of their arms.

The concert begins – the whole place is some kind of converted church – very small, stage in the ¾-ed square with only a few seats. Mine has some kind of safety bar coming out over it. My height prevents me from sitting there. There is some dilemma about ripping the bar out of the wall, as it is both in the way and loose.



I am walking through the upper hallways of a high school. There’s a carnival or fair going on outside. A couple is playing hide and go seek with their son. I spy the son, about 7, curled up and counting in a car of a ferris wheel – he has clearly crawled through a window in the school to get there, and is not secured at all. I don’t say anything at first, to not spoil game. The wheel is constructed very bizarrely. 2 elliptical tracks run through one another, something like the shape of a butterfly's wings carved out between them. Cars rotate quickly along the track, and spin independently, each car barely missing the next one coming from the opposite wheel at the two plaecs they intersect. The boy is lost, and a race begins to return him to his now hysterical parents.

The carnival is actually quite terrifying. Clowns and jesters from a Renaissance era are covered in deep browns and whites, quite unlike the bright colors normally associated with them -- they are caked in dirt and covered in filth. The carnival itself now seems horribly twisted, and The Gallows doesn’t seem like a fun ride, but people take it anyway. The corpses are flung down into a gaping pit of raw flesh and pulped bodies below the wooden stage's hatch. The son is flung down in some sort of 50’s-style fabric-lined suitcase. Fishing out the suitcase, he is inside, curled into a ball in a giant plastic bag. Still alive, but covered in this muck. Looking up, it seems that Wizard is marrying Agent, half just to prove some kind of point to Chewie.



I am in a hotel room not dissimilar to my own. The family leaves, heading for parts unknown. I rifle through a deck of cards, many of which have faces, both distinct and generic on them, in cartoonish style. The back of the deck seems to have an entirely different game on them. What kind of a game officially declares a 10-minute delay in case of fudge? There are shoes on the bed. They seem to belong to Kitten. I have an overwhelming need to return them, but I cannot figure out how to do so. The Swineherd have actually gathered at Master’s house, to nerd it up. I am bound to go with them, if only I can find my way.

6/8/08

Some of us visit this woman’s house. She is extremely sexy in a girl-next-door sort of way, despite her improbable chest. While discussing whatever business we may have with her, the need to spontaneously fuck her grows rapidly. At one moment while she turns away, I notice her computer’s monitor, which is running through an elaborate screen saver of porn – apparently she is a distributor of some kind and is also a nymphomaniac.

I resolve that I need to sneak into her house with stolen keys, making a thorough search for her own collections. Part of me also hopes that if she discovers me, one outcome might be the two of us having wild spontaneous sex, certainly of the sex-that-shouldn’t-happen variety that seems so mischievously arousing.

Crawling through her house, I feel I am reaching my goal, though I cannot recall ever finding any concrete goods. At one moment, I am forced to hide along an improbable shelf in her daughter’s room, a thin multi-inch platform with teddy bears that for some reason is reachable by a minor staircase.

One imagines that the sex occurs.

The entire world changes, moving all of us into some kind of enormous warehouse. Over time, more and more people enter the warehouse – distributors, gangland, police agents, thugs, wrestlers, and a bizarre mix of people. This entire portion occurs with me ¾-awake, somehow a strong illusion that I can prompt while my subconscious continues to operate most of the affair before my eyes. There is something about lines along the floor connecting people.

6/3/08

Black Crabs. The size of one’s torso. They try to tell me the secret mysteries of the past. Something happened to me, something important. They pull themselves in fast numbers, swarming over a number of people into the solution.

Obnoxious French girl in my building. She is secretly attracted to me, and she is beautiful in a hidden-away sort of way. Her marriage can only cause problems, but it is ignored.

For a moment, there is Harvard in the food court.

AC throws a party, demanding that it not be mild.

6/2/08

Am out with Sister, browsing convenience stores on our cross-country trip* across the South* heading East towards Institution. In one store, there is a pornstar, fucking some guy on a small stage. We watch fascinated until she takes it all over herself. In the meantime, we make posters for her, some misspelled. She storms out to drink herself into oblivion with her douchebag boyfriend. I make some crack about following her to the bar, so we can see her get hammered twice in one day.

We continue down the trail, accumulating more people, including Kitten. At some point we turn back to find the pornstar in a van with her boyfriend. There is need to tackle the guy and keep him down. Brian from Spaced is there as well, and decides to stab the guy in the hand a few times with a fork. He does it to me at least once, too. Pain.

Reunited, we all head back towards Institution. Another van is filled with customized hats. They all belong to DeCap.

Kitten and I never get a chance to crawl back into bed together before the alarm, but there is a great feeling of reunion after time.