Asian contractor, deadly puzzles, jolly embalmer dreams

Dream diary update. My dreams lately have been real gruesome horror show stuff where I usually awaken alert at exactly 4:30 AM with my heart thumping. Wednesday morning I had a dream where I was helping North Korean spies and Chinese Security agents by performing autopsies on other Asians. Most of the corpses were fresh but not intact, of both sexes. I was basically an independent contractor they brought in to try and explain what killed them and tore them apart.

   Thursday morning I had a dream that was all puzzle boxes and deadly trick rooms. The puzzle boxes were different from the Hell-summoning puzzles from Clive Barker's Hellraiser series. Nevertheless there was something diabolic about them and the way they completely fascinated me. Much of the dream was about my careful studying of every detail. The trick rooms were much like the trick rooms in the Saw film series.

   Friday morning (today) I had a dream where I was an embalmer, presumably to handle the wet works from the previous dreams. This one wasn't that bad. I was happily married with a young daughter looking forwards to Christmas. Work was slow so in the dream I played cards a lot with the guys at work who ran the incinerator.

The idea behind this dream is a personal sense of cosmic irony I think. I'm not naturally gregarious. I don't have a family of my own other than a few cats that I take care of for my mom. Finally I don't plan on being embalmed myself or to pay for a full burial. I've always planned near the end to go off by myself in the woods and share myself with predators, ie cats snakes, wolves, and crows, etc.

Sexy contortionist costume contest, Andrea Boccelli, Nicola Benedetti, Despicable Me dreams

Dream diary update. I should have made this diary entry yesterday, but I waited too long. I'll try to remember details of dreams from wake-ups this past weekend and today. The most memorable dream was a sex dream I had yesterday. I dreamed that I was involved in a game of best costume party dress-up with sexy prank Halloween costumes trying to out-do another guy. We dressed up as giant vibrators, with blow-up sex dolls, as doctor naughty with nurse nasty, and in all other sorts of amusing & contorted sex positions with accessories. The outlandish arrangements got more and more ridiculous until I awoke on the couch with a hard boner & laughing my ass off.

Two pieces of music have haunted my dreams this weekend. The first is from Great Performances last week when they had Andrea Boccelli & friends in Central Park. The song I dreamed about the most this past weekend was Boccelli doing Frank Sinatra's "More" with David Foster & trumpeter Chris Botti

Though I initially started out last Wednesday immediately after seeing the concert the first time with dreams about hot Scottish violinist Nicola Benedetti in her duet with Boccelli "En Aranjuez con tu amor"

Here's her 2010 interview with Britain's Daily Mail last year.  Bendetti is a serial heartbreaker so its no wonder I dreamed about her first.
The last piece of music I dreamed about was from the animated film "Despicable Me" which I also caught for the first time this weekend on our bootleg HBO. Of course the song was the catchy main theme "Despicable Me" by record-producer Pharrell Williams.The movie is better than the singing, but it fits well together for a short flick about a flawed genius. I like to think of myself as an evil genius when I'm having a bad savant day, so it makes sense that I would dream about Gru and his boogie music..

Objects, curios, libraries, churches, Oscar Wilde, Marilyn vos Savant dreams

   Dream diary update. My dreams in the last week reminded me about why I started writing this diary. They are filled with fascinating & boringly-detailed objects: Book bags, supplies, library books, video rentals, religious paraphernalia, etc. All of them made up or fake.  One of my educators told me that having this kind of detailed dream is a cardinal sign of giftedness. Perhaps that objectivity is the reason for my past fascination with rose windows?

  I've meant to keep a dream diary for decades. One of my wackier old therapists absolutely insisted I do it. He said that he believed I was almost as smart as Einstein and my dreams proved it. I didn't really believe him even after he administered another IQ test, but I listened to his crazy theories and I tried to get him to relax & party more. Back then I was still in my late teens and I saw myself as a college party animal. The therapy we were using was hypnotism.

    Last week one of favorite TV shows 'Jeopardy!' reminded me of him. The last Double Jeopardy answer in a segment was "What is 'Oneiromancy'?" The reason this reminded me of my hypnotherapist is that back then I didn't see myself as either a genius or as a savant IQ. I believed I was a sort of artistic oneiromancer with some simple depression and chronic addictive personality problems. I didn't tell anyone this because I thought they wouldn't understand. To write my dreams down would be to steal my powers from me, so I refused to keep the dream diary or any diary for my therapists. I also didn't like referring to or documenting my addictive personality or delusions since that would make me vulnerable to threats of legal interventions. Our Westernized police-state society doesn't reward candor.
   Since then I have recanted my wild partying ways and now I see myself as a common garden-variety savant with a slightly-altered brain chemistry that allows me to have some vivid dreams. Perhaps it was from some natural herb or organic poison I ingested when I was a child? When I was younger than 3 I used to run away to be alone in the woods for days around here and I ate a variety of stuff I found there.

    I see myself not as a dream oneiromancer anymore but as just a silly artistic savant with no extralegal addictions or delusions. I use a broad definition of genius as IQ z-score over 140 and 'savant' as z-score over 180. The reason I use these limits is MENSA uses 140 as their membership cut-off and most of the pediatric IQ tests like the Stanford-Binet are unreliable over 184.

I poorly recall my population rank putting me at somewhere between 1:600,000 and 1 in 2-3 million. About the same or slightly lower incidence than your garden-variety Nobel candidate. Unfortunately US society doesn't reward raw scores or savants who make mistakes, so I'd still probably be lucky to find some job as auto mechanic at Wal-mart with just that on my resume. Matchmaker.com and other message board ilk always automatically assigns everyone in my immediate family to the loser bucket, so I didn't bother with a dating profile myself. So much for rankings.
   I have some negative associations with savants after reading prolifically about them as a child. I started by reading the Time Quartet and the Bagthorpe Saga after I turned 7. I quickly moved up from them to reading Will Shakespeare and Oscar Wilde dark comedies over about 3 more years of sleeping in libraries until age 11.

 I never liked being associated with Parade columnist Marilyn vos Savant since I saw her as a sort of egomaniac and talking head. I've met lots of smart folks who aren't paid only to write about how brainy they are by a cheap tabloid rag. Though after arguing with her on the phone (I guessed the numbers ha ha), I conceded that vos Savant received her name not made up by some marketing huckster like PT Barnum but merely by family inheritance of French origin. IMAO It is likely that some ancestor changed the name to 'savant' in a fit of marketing pique but I refuse to accept it as coincidence. Among other things Marilyn is obsessed with protecting her images online and $uing so I'll just embed this harpy pic so you get the idea.

vos Savant has a dear Abby/queen bee column in Parade magazine harping on the countless virtues of Ronald Reagan and on the flaws of her (numerous) male inferior drones. The only thing I agree with her about is that all IQ tests are completely unreliable in the high ranges. Remarkable people named 'savants' are often crippled in some way like 'idiot savant' or 'autistic savant'.

Western society's freak show people. That's why I prefer to not be called a genius since geniuses are mostly well-adjusted cogs in Western civilzation. Geniuses are bland Confucian ultra-conformists with prospering families. I'm a colorful savant & hikikomori who might have been a writer and who may have some marginal prescient ability. Might as well be proud of it.

   So happily there are no longer any prohibitions to my keeping my online dream diary. The main reason I am keeping the diary though, is because Google Blogger wouldn't let me follow anyone without my keeping some sort of marginal blog. I wanted this blog to be creative and challenging but as I expected I am the only one subscribed to it via Facebook NetworkedBlogs application.

Stomach Claw, sleepwalking, Ménage à trois dreams

   When I got up to shower early Monday morning I noticed I had some bad scratch marks on top of some old scars on my lower abdomen that I initially wrote off as a skin condition related to sleeping in my clothes too often. Today since the scratch marks healed somewhat I have found that they exactly fit the three fingers on my left hand. So I was really scratching at my belly during sleep in my dream confusion. This is one of the perils of infrequent somnambulism & having a weak neural block during REM. The only thing I remember about Sunday night's dreams is that they were confusing & unpleasant. That usually means I have a body image distortion in the dream that I dislike or that my mind failed to take control of the dream. I might have been seeing myself as weak or as a girl. Anyway further deduction yields nothing about dream details. Perhaps I was dreaming about the wrestling hold Stomach Claw? Anyway I had gone to bed Sunday night hoping that I would dream about more catgirls. That's a recurring dream I can handle better.

   This morning's dreams were nothing unusual just perverted. In the dream just before waking I remembered being shocked after a girl I met at a punk party proposed I join her and another fellow in a Ménage à trois right away. Coincidentally when I finally got up and flipped through the stations, I found Lifetime movie network was playing a similar scene from the film Heathers. The scene had a very unpleasant ending, since she had led both guys to their deaths. Made me glad I hadn't taken my dream date up on her offer.

   Since that actually happened to me on a blind date many years ago. I thought it barely deserved a mention in the dream diary. Its more a sign of how long its been since I've tried dating or even socializing at all with anybody. Its not always easy living as a hikikomori. Having sleep disturbances more often and a few antisocial dreams is a smaller price to pay than several of the alternatives. Beats working for the meat packing industry for example. Then my dreams would be filled with punching time clocks, rancid animal corpses, guilt, and male sweat.

Zombies, gothic lolitas, Novas, bony wheel of fortune, witches dreams

   Dream diary update. My dreams have been especially weird lately. However since death was such a recurring theme in them Tuesday I actually entered into a bit of an emotional funk and didn't feel like blogging about them at all. My dreams were filled with corpses, zombies, ghosts, and bones. Water also played a prominent role in last week's dreams and loss of control. I think I was more mentally depressed rather than goth though I seem to remember a gothic lolita or two torturing me. The road I'm on now doesn't appear to end well, but there's still lots of time to change.

   I almost made an entry yesterday morning but instead I allowed myself to become distracted by my tumblr and twitter blogs. My dreams yesterday were quite musical Saturday morning after watching late-night CAS Friday. The dream was a mixture of classical, swing, country, and pop music with a lot of accompanying starfields and planetary exploration scenes that I have seen lately animated on various PBS/Nova: Fabric of the Cosmos and NASA clips.

 
   Last night I invited my college nephew over to watch Svengoolie and Wolfman Mac's Chjiller Drive-In movies. I ended up passing out for 11 hours on the couch while the cats mostly kept him company. I woke up for an hour and a half during the films to work the remote for him. I think I may have had a cold. Sleeping it off is my normal physical reaction to colds, injuries, toxicosis, and exsanguination. I woke up at 8:30 pm CST long enough to comment on some of my dreams to nephew, but all I said was "really weird dreams" before passing out again. I seem to remember a divination wheel made of bones from last evening's dream.

    In this morning's dream before I woke up I was living with 2 wives who were both witches. To be sure waking up on the couch alone with cspanwj on was something of a disappointment (:

Witch doctor, Phoenician diety, Inception, cat heads, parkour acrobat, rock giant, lion tamer, lost soldier dreams

   Dream diary update. My dreams have been pretty wild this week. Wednesday morning I had a powerful dream about chasing a witch doctor who was a jet black figure in a traditional African mask.

Most of the dream was supernatural and violent. I was a dark, immortal figure like Jason Vorhees but with elements of Mephistopheles for I could also perform soul deals. Anyway when I caught up with the witch doctor instead of fighting I wished him well. As he lay submissively he began to wiggle his mask & dance to an alpha wave rhythm as I awoke. The whole dream was so surreal that I was still hypnotized & I had a premonition of bad things happening that day which was borne out later Wednesday by extreme weather events. A song from the dream which I couldn't quite place right away belonged to the ending to the film Inception which I watched for the first time last weekend with nephew on my bootleg HBO. It was a woman singing in French from the Hans Zimmer score to the ending credits.

I believe now that I was dreaming I was the underworld deity Melqart since similar elements were uppermost in my mind in the hour after I came out of my trance. As I stared at my eyes in the bathroom mirror I thought about Phoenicia, Herakles, and Hannibal. I've dreamed about all of them before and about Moloch too so it makes sense that I might have one about Melqart. It is also worth noting that Melqart was venerated in the area from Syria to Spain which is currently in a state of extreme unrest that I am watching closely.
   Thursday morning's dream was much more conventional & like the film Inception, only instead of gun play & Hans Zimmer music my 'dream levels' were more concerned with traps and cat autopsies. The music as I awoke had changed from Zimmer's end credits to Jamaica Farewell by Harry Belafonte.

I've dreamed about this song since I was a kid so there was nothing strange about my dreaming about it again.
See I admired the way Harry Belafonte came down to Occupy Wall Street weeks ago and I liked the interview that Gwen Ifill did with him for the PBS Newshour this week. Like Michael Moore, Mr Belafonte is a chic liberal who is very willing to talk with folks first before letting lamestream Conservative Foxmedia prejudge them unfit society for him. It used to be common in New York in the 1960s and 70s for rich Manhattan liberals to host parties with Black Panthers for example. That's why when I saw Mr Belafonte at #OWS I tweeted Gwen Ifill that 'I still think Harry Belafonte is bigger than Elvis' which of course he was at one time as she points out in her interview.
   Friday morning's dream was about being a crazy clown acrobat doing my Parkour in a traveling circus. I also dreamed I turned into a Rock Giant and became part of the hillside with rolling grass growing over me and people walking on me.

When I woke up I realized I had been exercising in my sleep again. I had done side push ups that lasted until muscle failure so my right triceps was pretty sore.   Before midnight Friday I had another recurring dream about being a lion tamer with big cats. Nothing unusual there since lion tamer is one of my dream jobs. I largely prefer the company of big cats to people so any time I spend more time with my little cats than humans in a 24 hour period I have that dream. About 2 hours ago I dreamed about Japanese WWII survivors living alone & soldiering forever on Pacific islands. PBS Globe trekker happened to be left playing on my tv and the subject episode happened to be Japanese WWII installations. So this was another instance that tv voices influenced the subject matter of a light dream.

Dragon's Lair, Nature Elemental, afterlife department store, biker comix dreams

Dream diary update. I haven't made an entry for a while, but I have an excuse this time. I had a week where the kittens kept waking me up all night. They lost their darling mom to a dog or a car mid-week, something that squeezed her head until an eye popped. My deep sleep for a week was often interrupted by them knocking on my door, mewling, batting stuff over, and sharp kitten claws.
Monday night I had a dream around midnight that I was in love. Not only was I in love but I was completely unashamed to proclaim my love in front of the whole world as I pursued in public various attractive and scantily-clad females who were all quickly en déshabillé. The curious thing about the dream was how it was me running through odd scenes as if it were all one long shot forwards, even sword-fighting to pursue my reluctant conquests. It reminded me of the old 1980s laserdisc video game Dragon's Lair which often fried in the middle of cut-scenes and great sword fights along with shooting jets of dragon's breath, magma bursts, traps, and fairy dust. I woke up in a pile of kittens.

After petting kitties for a while and watching telly I finally got back to sleep after 5 am and I dreamed I was an Ent or an old nature elemental sleeping in a bed of autumn leaves and bright dawn light. There was a decidedly supernatural aspect to this dream that left me feeling at peace.

Tuesday night (an hour ago) I woke up after midnight after having a dream about being an employee in a big box department store like Wal-mart, only it was the afterlife and we all had changed identities to fit the store. In my case the motivational speeches and endless meetings with boring managers unsurprisingly failed to inspire any work-ethic. Near the end of the dream I stopped working and I wandered around the store to gawk at managers engaging in open sex with customers in the aisles and on the cash registers. The arrangements and positions seemed oddly stylized, as if R. Crumb tried to draw the Kama Sutra, Shunga, and The Joy of Sex illustrated for Underground Comix or some other x-rated biker rag. I stepped off a conveyor belt to watch my supervisor begin fisting his girlfriend in front of the gum rack as I awoke.