[Blogger's note: I would just like to ask you this: Does the first word in the title for this post look odd to you? Up until yesterday, I had always thought the word was 're-occurring,' but then I saw 'recurring' in print somewhere and started to doubt. OK, I admit it, first I doubted the publisher of the book, but since it was a rather reputable-looking book, I then turned the doubt onto myself. Dictionary.com claims there is no such word as re-occurring.]
OK, so this dream was rather brief, but it touched on same of the same themes again that I mentioned in the previous dream and even on another topic I have been encountering lately, so I'd say it is pretty relevant.
I was at home again, and I had heard that our church diocese was holding a lock-in about an hour away. For those of you who don't know, a 'lock-in' is this event where a bunch of people get together at one location (a location that you would not normally associate with sleeping at), and they have 'fun' and can't leave. Typically, little sleep occurs during such events, and they are major headaches to the adult facilitators. Right, so I guess I should also point out to those who don't know me that I was über involved in church-related activities in middle school/high school.
ok, so I decided that I didn't have anything better to do, so I agreed to go, though I will say I was a bit hesitant. So my mother and I get in the car. Right before we're pulling up to the church where the lock-in is to take place, I look over at her and say, "That's funny. I guess I could have driven myself." My mom agrees. Then we pull into the actual parking lot, and all I can see are these 11-13 year old kids everywhere. They're eagerly carrying their pillows and bags, laughing, running around, etc. Then I have this sinking feeling in my stomach, and I'm on the verge of asking my mom to just turn around and take me home... when I wake up.
I think the implications here are quite obvious.
[Blogger's note #2: I hope the seriousness of these recent postings has not made you uncomfortable. I guess I'm sort of going through a strange time in my life right now--ie I'm leaving Denmark in 11 days and going back to my old life... and it sometimes seems like a regression to me. It will be interesting to see when my dreams revert back to their crazy/random/comical selves.]
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Saturday, December 8, 2007
ok, so this one is a few weeks old now, but it's ok because I recorded myself telling it as soon as I woke up
Yeah, so I woke up on the morning of November 23rd in a bit of a panic considering... well I guess I won't tell you just yet. I almost just told you the startling climax of my dream. (Actually, one of the first things I say in the recording is: "I don't know if I should start at the end or start at the beginning or what.")
Yes, so my journal was not nearby when I awoke, and I didn't feel like getting out of my nice warm bed (you know how that is), so I decided to grab my camera off my nightstand and record my dream before I forgot it.
Here is more or less the result of this recording session (I wish I could just attach an audio file!):
I have it my head that I know how I'm going to die... or at least, like in the game Clue that I used to play as a kid, I knew what the murder weapon would be. The instrument of my death is going to be a Wizard of Oz pen. You know, it's one of those pens that you tilt one way, and something floats across the surface of the pen because there's water inside this tube thing. So yeah, the particular scene in this situation was munchkins or something skipping down the yellow brick road. Of course, this bit of information was something I had just always known and it seemed rather ridiculous, so I just sort of never thought about it. Really though, knowing what weapon will kill you won't exactly stop it from happening anyway, right? Yeah, so that is just some background information for you. It doesn't factor into the dream here... not yet anyway.
So yeah, it so happened that I was at home with my family in Moncks Corner. It was strange because I was at least a bit older than I am now, but my brother seemed to be younger. (I guess that's because I feel like I've 'changed' a lot since I've been here in Denmark... or something is different. I'm not sure if I have 'changed' or if I have just become more myself... but that's the subject of another post. perhaps something I will post on my other blog. Then of course, my brother was probably younger because that's how I rememer him best since I haven't lived at home for 4 years now.)
Yep, so my dad found this stray dog, so we took it in. A few days later, we learned that it belonged to this family, so they came to pick it up. So there's this happy little reunion going on in the front of the house, out in the yard. Everyone in the family is very excited about getting their dog back, etc, and I am just sort of standing off to the side and observing their happiness.
Then all of the sudden and without warning, we all hear this little clicking noise... it's the sound a gun makes before you shoot it. I'm not sure what it's called, but you know what I mean. It's one of those gun noises that you just don't want to hear, so we all look towards the house, and there's this huge man standing there to the side of our front door (which is ajar). The man is wearing camoflage and is just standing there calmly with a rifle sort of in the verticle resting position, but the funny thing is, the noise didn't come from this man. Then we see through a window to the house (actually the window to my old bedroom--the one I moved out of when I was 14), and there is another guy in there. This guy is going through my belongings in a hasty manner (because it was my bedroom in the dream even though it currently isn't in real life). This second guy was carrying a pistol, and it was from that gun that we heard the ominous click.
Now, it's at this point that we start to freak out--or I in particular start to freak out because I know my brother and some of his friends are in the house, and there are just people everywhere, you know? So I say to my mom, quietly, "Mom, you have to call the police. You have to do something. This guy has a gun!" But my mom just sort of stands there, paralyzed. She just mutters something like, "ummm I don't know. I don't know what to do," and she has this strange distant look in her eyes. So it's at this point that I decide to take charge. Now, if you know me well, you will know that I am not good with keeping up with my cell phone. My family, of course is much worse... ie no one has a cell phone but me, and I don't happen to have mine on me, so I set off across the yard to the neighbor's house to call the police since I obviously don't want to try crossing army-fatigues-man.
It's when I'm about half way to the neighbor's house that I hear a commotion, and I turn in time to see the second guy (the one with the pistol) running out of the door to our house. He is carrying a few things that he has stolen from my room, but it is quite a strange collection he has, really. The most rememberable thing he had was the sheet off my bed because it sort of billowed behind him as he ran. So yeah, I'm thinking, ok good. The guy is leaving, he hasn't hurt anyone, and he hasn't really stolen too much. We can call the police, and they can come and investigate and look for finger prints or whatever. But then he stops a little ways off and just sort of hesitates, and I see my mother start to walk towards him, and I think, oh no. He is going to hurt my mother.
So I start to walk over towards them, too, to try to talk some sense into my mom and get her out of the situation. Then, when I'm about five paces away, I hear the guy say to my mom, "Hey all I need is one thing. Do you have one those glippen pens?" And since I had no idea what a 'glippen' pen was, I just sort of stood there, contemplating what the heck he was talking about. But then, my mom, always eager to help, starts to pull something out of her pocket. I think it was right at this moment, that I realized what was going to happen, so I turn around and just start sprinting away from the scene. Presumably, my mother hands the guy the pen, and the guy starts chasing me. I can hear his footsteps pounding on the asphalt behind me. and I wonder, oh my gosh. Is this going to hurt? Am I going to feel this? and before I have much time to think about it, I just sort of feel this strange warmth that's sort of coming from the area of my neck.
and then I woke up.
Yes, as you might have guessed, I had been stabbed in the neck by a Wizard of Oz pen.
So have you heard that claim that if you die in your dream, you die in real life? I am living proof that that is untrue.
I think there are many interesting implications in this dream. I think that this entry is long enough though, so I might add some theories in a comment.
Yes, so my journal was not nearby when I awoke, and I didn't feel like getting out of my nice warm bed (you know how that is), so I decided to grab my camera off my nightstand and record my dream before I forgot it.
Here is more or less the result of this recording session (I wish I could just attach an audio file!):
I have it my head that I know how I'm going to die... or at least, like in the game Clue that I used to play as a kid, I knew what the murder weapon would be. The instrument of my death is going to be a Wizard of Oz pen. You know, it's one of those pens that you tilt one way, and something floats across the surface of the pen because there's water inside this tube thing. So yeah, the particular scene in this situation was munchkins or something skipping down the yellow brick road. Of course, this bit of information was something I had just always known and it seemed rather ridiculous, so I just sort of never thought about it. Really though, knowing what weapon will kill you won't exactly stop it from happening anyway, right? Yeah, so that is just some background information for you. It doesn't factor into the dream here... not yet anyway.
So yeah, it so happened that I was at home with my family in Moncks Corner. It was strange because I was at least a bit older than I am now, but my brother seemed to be younger. (I guess that's because I feel like I've 'changed' a lot since I've been here in Denmark... or something is different. I'm not sure if I have 'changed' or if I have just become more myself... but that's the subject of another post. perhaps something I will post on my other blog. Then of course, my brother was probably younger because that's how I rememer him best since I haven't lived at home for 4 years now.)
Yep, so my dad found this stray dog, so we took it in. A few days later, we learned that it belonged to this family, so they came to pick it up. So there's this happy little reunion going on in the front of the house, out in the yard. Everyone in the family is very excited about getting their dog back, etc, and I am just sort of standing off to the side and observing their happiness.
Then all of the sudden and without warning, we all hear this little clicking noise... it's the sound a gun makes before you shoot it. I'm not sure what it's called, but you know what I mean. It's one of those gun noises that you just don't want to hear, so we all look towards the house, and there's this huge man standing there to the side of our front door (which is ajar). The man is wearing camoflage and is just standing there calmly with a rifle sort of in the verticle resting position, but the funny thing is, the noise didn't come from this man. Then we see through a window to the house (actually the window to my old bedroom--the one I moved out of when I was 14), and there is another guy in there. This guy is going through my belongings in a hasty manner (because it was my bedroom in the dream even though it currently isn't in real life). This second guy was carrying a pistol, and it was from that gun that we heard the ominous click.
Now, it's at this point that we start to freak out--or I in particular start to freak out because I know my brother and some of his friends are in the house, and there are just people everywhere, you know? So I say to my mom, quietly, "Mom, you have to call the police. You have to do something. This guy has a gun!" But my mom just sort of stands there, paralyzed. She just mutters something like, "ummm I don't know. I don't know what to do," and she has this strange distant look in her eyes. So it's at this point that I decide to take charge. Now, if you know me well, you will know that I am not good with keeping up with my cell phone. My family, of course is much worse... ie no one has a cell phone but me, and I don't happen to have mine on me, so I set off across the yard to the neighbor's house to call the police since I obviously don't want to try crossing army-fatigues-man.
It's when I'm about half way to the neighbor's house that I hear a commotion, and I turn in time to see the second guy (the one with the pistol) running out of the door to our house. He is carrying a few things that he has stolen from my room, but it is quite a strange collection he has, really. The most rememberable thing he had was the sheet off my bed because it sort of billowed behind him as he ran. So yeah, I'm thinking, ok good. The guy is leaving, he hasn't hurt anyone, and he hasn't really stolen too much. We can call the police, and they can come and investigate and look for finger prints or whatever. But then he stops a little ways off and just sort of hesitates, and I see my mother start to walk towards him, and I think, oh no. He is going to hurt my mother.
So I start to walk over towards them, too, to try to talk some sense into my mom and get her out of the situation. Then, when I'm about five paces away, I hear the guy say to my mom, "Hey all I need is one thing. Do you have one those glippen pens?" And since I had no idea what a 'glippen' pen was, I just sort of stood there, contemplating what the heck he was talking about. But then, my mom, always eager to help, starts to pull something out of her pocket. I think it was right at this moment, that I realized what was going to happen, so I turn around and just start sprinting away from the scene. Presumably, my mother hands the guy the pen, and the guy starts chasing me. I can hear his footsteps pounding on the asphalt behind me. and I wonder, oh my gosh. Is this going to hurt? Am I going to feel this? and before I have much time to think about it, I just sort of feel this strange warmth that's sort of coming from the area of my neck.
and then I woke up.
Yes, as you might have guessed, I had been stabbed in the neck by a Wizard of Oz pen.
So have you heard that claim that if you die in your dream, you die in real life? I am living proof that that is untrue.
I think there are many interesting implications in this dream. I think that this entry is long enough though, so I might add some theories in a comment.
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