A Bizarre Dream

My dreams are often either confusing or the type that would cause a mental breakdown in normal people. Below I am giving a summary of one or two dreams from last night, adapted from a Skype conversation I had with a friend earlier.

I suppose we should begin with the first. It involved some sort of altercation involving the police, at night. The setting was near Clemson University, I think, although it looked nothing like the university campus. The police were randomly checking and interrogating people who passed them on the street, and there was something I wanted to keep back, although I do not know what it was. We had an argument because I was not going to tell them whatever it was.

I woke up after that one, on the verge of overheating and unable to sleep for a couple hours afterward, although I am not certain of the time. I just know it was a little after midnight when I looked at the clock, because I wondered if it was time to get out of bed. I did this a couple times.

Then comes the next dream, or maybe two dreams. Exactly what is uncertain.

They were also both at Clemson, although involving different people maybe. It was hard to tell. After reading this, if your mind has not imploded, you may be able to resolve some of the conflict, although something tells me it’s impossible.

I was exploring the library from the top level to the bottom. Now for those of you who do not know, the lower levels of the library are underground, and feel it too. No windows, no natural lighting, just cinderblock painted industrial white with old carpeting and no attempt to make the place look like something other than a dungeon. In the dream, they had done some renovating work on the bottom floor, converting space into a Confederate history museum and adding a student lounge that looked more like a prison cell, although it did have some old chairs and couches in it. The museum had no lighting, and there was a secondary lounge at the end of a curved hallway. This lounge was painted dark green. No one seemed to care how oppressive the room felt.

In the museum part, I was with a couple black students dressed up in white sheets, and was talking to them about how this wasn’t here at one time and wondering why it was added. Someone saw us and accused us of being in the Klan, so I pointed out that the people I was with were black and the accusation made no sense. I recalled later on in the dream that they had been wearing pointed hats. I have no idea where that came from.

About that time the second plot went underway.

Someone with a gun and intent to kill was pursuing me, although I was not running and neither was he. Instead, I used the library layout and shelving to my advantage, keeping just out of sight and the line of fire. We went through this on several floors. Strangely, no one else noticed what was going on, and I didn’t warn anyone. I was the only one in danger.

The dream shifted again, and introduced a Digimon theme into it. A few other people were at the student center and were concocting a way to merge with digimon and become digimon themselves. I shifted back and forth from being one of the participants, to being a disembodied observer unconnected with the whole thing. This segment of the dream came complete with an anime-style segment where the desired merge and result was shown. (I have not watched Digimon in months by the way.) A couple characters from the show were involved.

The library chase and attempted murder changed settings to the student center (there were some in-between scenes I will omit – but by now it was daytime). There are more people there, and not as many places to hide.

The shooter was annoyed and started to open fire, injuring at least one lady and probably others. I only saw blood from one person. The intended victim was also shot and presumably fatally injured, so the dream POV changed to that of an observer. Somehow, the shooter was also shot several times, and he stumbled to his death somewhere else in the building.

The police showed up with their DO NOT CROSS tape and taped off the path the murderer had taken, and had paper on the floor to collect blood samples from every drop.

Back to the digimon plot. The people involved with that somehow got a hold of the victim, whose body had been reduced to a powdered-sugar-like substance, and only about a tablespoon of that. He was somehow still aware.

My dreams ignore physics and logic.

They put the victim’s remains on some sort of fruit and dissolved the whole thing in some liquid in a 2L beaker. They were hoping to use their merging attempt to revive the guy, and maybe have him end up with the ability to shift to a bluish dragon/wolf thing in the end. It did not work and they could see it was going to go too far. My perspective shifted back and forth from being in the beaker and outside it. The liquid formed two layers, and the top layer had a bluish tint to it. The beaker’s contents began to glow and form a vortex in the container, and the somehow-aware liquid was trying to communicate to the people outside, telling them he was fine. His voice had shifted up several octaves though and he sounded like a child. They were hoping that would make him end up a child- or adult-level digimon, but the victim was too weak and ended up as a jelly-like egg.

Then my brain decided to rescue me from its insanity and woke me up.

I promise I did not consume any unauthorized substance before going to bed last night. My dreams are just this way.

Transformation and Christians — Intent to Write

For some time I have wondered about the appropriateness of Christians partaking in transformation art, not just when it becomes the defining characteristic and a time-waster, but transformation art in general. Some have made comments connecting TF-related media to the Christian faith, viewing transformation in a positive manner, so I have considered those as well. Over the next few weeks you will begin seeing some more detailed thoughts on the matter.

That Obligatory Furry Dream

It is not altogether unusual to hear my fellow furries describe fandom-related dreams they have experienced, often with some sort of transformation theme. Until this week, I had experienced exactly two furry dreams in my life, and both are from high school.

And then this week was the super-rare (for me) transformation-related furry dream. In keeping with many dreams, none of the events actually happen to me; I am an observer and nothing more. In the dream, a husband and wife explorer – at least I think they were husband and wife – end up being a little more feline than they were anticipating. Why feline I’m not sure, considering I’m not overly fond of those. But that’s what they were.

I can understand to a point why these dreams are enjoyable. Because I am a writer and storyteller, a dream like that is amazing for me, because the dream presented itself in story form, almost as if I were watching a movie of the event. As is typical for the coyote, there were some skips in the scenes and a moment or two replayed itself, but it told a cohesive story.

If only I could write it down. I tried to earlier this week, and the attempt simply was not vivid enough. I’m not good at writing about expeditions in strange places, apparently.