Symbolic Forest

A homage to loading screens.

Blog : Posts tagged with ‘dreams’


Or, you could say, self-awakening

It’s fair to say that I don’t always consciousnessly do the right thing in life. I’m getting better at that, and maybe there will be more posts to come on that at a future date, but historically I’ve always been either a wee bit too hesitant, or a wee bit too eager to not resist the wrong thing.

Still, it’s nice to know that this doesn’t always apply to my subconscious brain. Last night I was peacefully sleeping, going through a rather strange and incoherent dream when I suddenly became aware than one of my worst fears was on its way. I suddenly became aware, through a quick flash of an image, that a horde of zombies were on their way and were about to break into my dreamscape.

Zombies are one of my worst fears. Any dream with a substantial amount of them would quickly become a nightmare, and a bad one. My brain, though, knows this. And so at the first flash of them last night, I found myself suddenly hauled out of sleep and checking the time. It was just gone 3am: being awake just gone 3am isn’t ideal, and I knew I might not properly get back to sleep again, but it was better than than the alternative. Better than being stuck inside a nightmare still. I should, I think, be giving my brain a bit of a pat on the back.

Ring (not the movie)

Trying to look pretty

I don’t wear much jewellery. Never have. I take after my mother, who who only wears her wedding ring and has never even had her ears pierced.

The other week—after wandering round the city with The Friend From The Suburbs looking for presents for The Australian because he’s going back to Australia—I bought a ring. Nothing special, just a polished stone ring from the National Museum shop. I’ve been wearing it most of the time since I bought it.

I’ve noticed—when I wake up in the morning now, without it on—that I’ve started to realise more when it’s missing that when it’s there. It’s becoming a part of my body-image. When I wake up in the morning, hand underneath my pillows, I have a negative spot on my left middle finger, where there is something missing. I didn’t think a change like that to my mental maps could happen so fast.

In other body-image news: walking through my local shopping centre today, I suddenly realised just how mirrored its interior is. And I hate it. I don’t want to have to see myself all the time.

Holyrood Park

Oh, last night’s dream: a race of space aliens were living in Holyrood Park, which is just by my flat (see above). They were silver-coloured, a bit like Cybermen but fatter and more organic. I would look up at the cliffs, and they would be stood on the edge (see below) waving at me. They wanted me to go back to their home planet with them; they said I would be worshipped or something; but it was all a big plot and I managed to run away.

The crags of Holyrood Park

Weird, even for me

More bizarre dreaming

In last night’s bizarre dream, I was desperately trying to print out the President of Ireland’s daily schedule (so I could give it to her personally), but my printer wouldn’t work. Then, I had an argument with my dad as to whether I should buy a laser printer or not. I have no idea what any of that was about. Or, for that matter, the bit slightly earlier where people in wheelchairs kept getting eaten by giant plants.

Mulling things over

Is it a dream, or a nightmare?

Last night’s dream: I was supposed to be travelling to Mull, which had managed to move itself to the other side of the country and was now somewhere in the Tay. Then, I was sat around in my old school, fixing clocks. Or something like that. Later on, I was attending a conference (which seemed to be something to do with town planning) in a labyrinthine hotel, adn it all got very scary. I discovered that we were some kind of guinea-pigs for the real conference-goers, we tried to escape but couldn’t and all that sort of thing. The best bit was when I found that if I took my phone and flipped over the SIM, I could then use it to reprogram reality—although this gave us a better chance of escaping, it meant we could be tracked down a lot quicker, too.

I really should have less cheese with my evening meals, I think.

It's a conspiracy

Or, a disturbing dream

Strange dream last night. Basically, I was creating a TV adaptation of the Umberto Eco novel Foucault’s Pendulum. I wasn’t just writing the script, but was inside the programme—although I was careful to design it so there was a good ending in the first episode, so it would work well as a pilot for a mini-series. Then, I went outside, and the sky was yellow and the landscape in shades of brown and umber, with black seagulls that looked like paper cutouts flying round in flocks.

Stumbled out of bed this morning and put the kettle on as normal. Pouring my tea, I was sure I saw some sort of black blob drop out of the kettle. fifteen minutes later, reached the bottom of my mug and almost swallowed a boiled moth. EW EW EW EW EW—ran to the kitchen for something to rinse my mouth out.