East Coast Wobble

Dreamed on 2017.07.17.0812 Furiously trying to text someone where I am while walking quickly down the halls, but I'm having trouble. A child who sees me having trouble is laughing at me. Eventually she points out that I've died and am in ghost/angel/etc form now. I have trouble being convinced until she shows me that we can walk through walls or fly, etc, and also no one interacts with us. I spend a long time helping people--touching their minds and influencing them while they sleep, as well as finding new ghost/angels and showing them the ropes. I say "angels" but I know we're not. But we are good/positive spirits. There is a room we can go, I am aware, where we can fall asleep and be done with this stage of things, but I enjoy it and the unknown after it is scary. Also, it's pretty common for the good/positive spirits to want to sleep and reach the next stage, but none of the negative spirits seem to be doing that, so... there's a bit of an imbalan...

Dreamed on 2017.07.21.0424 Some anarchist/terrorist guy attacks the grocery store I work in and tries to escape, but I slow down my perception of time and take off after him. I'm in something like a Goliath from StarCraft, but the top section is capable of flight, which I use. I track him as he leaves the store, then send a barrage of missiles and bullets. He fires back with machine gun like things. We take it out into the parking lot and continue firing with no one taking any damage and the rockets just falling around him on the ground without exploding. Eventually I just get point blank and we're both shooting each other and the bullets aren't doing anything, as if it's a laggy computer game or something. So I suggest dude just leaves and goes home and doesn't come back. Like, ever. Please. And his wife agrees with this very happily and so he agrees to too. After I think they leave, I realize I should pick up all the rockets in case ammunition starts working aga...

Dreamed on 2019.08.18.0150 "It's one thing to seize the means of production. It's another to know how to use them." So many arguments with our neighbor. Their dog got past our fencing and chewed up the tarp we use for water collection. They stole apples from the tree that fell in the storm. Etc. I wanna complain to the employee from the block administration, but she's just a kid eagerly tending the sprouts in our community garden. One day I get a splinter through my shirt and start bleeding and I really look around. At all the trees about to fall that would hit our house. If I try to smile in the dirty mirror, there's a delay. My scared and warped face just hates back at me. Fighting with my neighbor does nothing about how shit the world is. Petty lives and hates lull me into complacence over the cliff. We can't not go over the cliff. It will take a commitment from the whole body, but I must build my own wings.

Dreamed on 2018.06.07.0741 Message said I should see what some priest has to say, cause they've got a mission for me, so I show up and it's a super traditional-feeling Catholic service with a real raven-priest, in the full feathery getup, talking about the three-way war currently festering between island nations on the other side of the planet. The worship ends, people leave, and I find him in the shadows backstage where we talk. I decipher she's actually a woman, and subtly comment on it in a way that shows I know without actually spelling it out, and indicating that I'm not going to judge. In other words, I 100% Father Brown this situation. Then we debate the philosophy of engaging in political struggles as an outsider from an imperialist nation. She only allows me two questions, and we banter wittily on equal ground. Ultimately she convinces me that I should at least go there and get to know some of the people on the ground, at the very least, even if I don't...

Dreamed on 15.10.28.0605 He lingered on the last page after all the others had left before slipping down between the cracks in the poetry. Deftly he made his way and sure enough, beside the entryway in one of the rooms that the idiot protagonist had had to flood in order to gain entry to the massive and ancient building he found her lying in the casket. You found me, she said. He smiled. You're dead, he said. Hush now. You know as well as I do that the rules apply differently here. Kiss me and perhaps I'll come back to life. ... How did you find me? No one else has. It was obvious, to me at least. The whole plan was to hide you in plain sight. In line 72, for example, it says.... No, wait -- please don't quote line numbers. It makes me feel... lesser. Okay. Would you like to stay a while? They smiled at each other.

Dreamed on 2016.12.09.0416 Company hires well trained ambitious young people with no real connections. Promises that if they devote two years of their lives, entirely, to working crazy hard, they'll make enough money to live the rest of their lives on. Hops them up on drugs so much (meth?) that they work for 21 hours a day. Hang out for 1.5 hours, then sleep (medically induced) for 1.5 hours. Mostly so into the cycle of what they do that they don't stop to process the disappearances, which are supposedly people retiring immediately at the two year mark. You'd think that maybe they are just killed and the company keeps all the money that the person thought they were making. That's happened, sure. But the company finds it more profitable to just re-assign workers to different locations every two years with enough drugs to not notice that they never get to spend any of the money they think they're earning. Time also becomes a blur, as well as their eternally future p...

Dreamed on 15.09.23.0434 A young boy rushes through a hospital, ignoring the doctors, looking impatiently for his mom. He holds an audio recorder to his ear and listens to it. Serious and playful examples flow out to back up the claim: "You can never tell an entire thing--an entire story. But tell one or two facets of a thing well and you imply the world."

Dreamed on 2014.12.07.0716 I was probably invited because I'm an empath, I suppose. One of my students had a younger brother, ages ago, but he died in an old stone building built into the side of a cliff. A ruin from another age. After he died, the spring sprang back to life in the old well at the center of it. I'm not sure how they knew that now was the time to help put the boy to rest, but that was their decision and I was invited along. We climbed the stairs -- large old crackling stone stairs winding up along the inside of the outer wall of the building. When we reached the top, there was a well, overflowing with water which let itself out into a sizable pool on the floor, which then flowed along a deep basin and poured off the edge of the building as a waterfall. I felt his presence strongly here, and I knew he felt ours as well, because after we said a few words, a thick, thick cloud of mist and fog rolled out from the well and enveloped us, then moved away above ...

Dreamed on 2014.12.14.1008 When you die, you stay in the same spot but time wheels backwards to your birth. You are a ghost, effectively, though elf is the proper name. You live in a different layer of the world now. There is some crossover (such as your ability to affect dreams, to move objects occasionally, and to interact with some younger children. But there are new things you can see, such as desires, intentions, and fears. I'm not entirely sure what my goal is. I know that most elves go back and watch themselves through life -- reflecting on and evaluating decisions that were made, occasionally influencing dreams. Those who are dissatisfied and try with all of their new powers to change their previous life - those fully consumed in selfishness and lust for power -- are usually the ones who turn into dark forces that haunt houses. I find a house with one of these haunting it. I find that I can talk to one of the young children in it, though I must be very careful how I...

Dreamed on 2014.10.25.1415 Climbing up steep cliffside which eventually gives way to a lattice-work of logs and branches, some more secure than others. I know there is a cave ahead of me on the other side of the log-mesh I'm climbing, but beneath me there is whitewater so white that I can see neither rocks nor blue water, but rushing whiteness that might as well be cloud. I know that to fall would be to fall for many ages, and that I must have sure footing as I pick my way onward.

Dreamed on 2014.10.11.0828 Note: Play "sometimes our dreams float like anchors" by William Elliott Whitmore in the background (it was stuck in my head when I woke up). At a large party with people. I have a friend/neighbor with me. Decide to go underwater for a bit and record a video (I have a new goPro that I want to play with -- it's a fingertip --about as thick as a finger print -- and it records whatever I'm pointing at. This works well, as my suit is also set to propel me by pointing with that same finger whenever I accelerate by a gesture with my other hand. We cruise around for a while and find cool bubbles to film (note that our suits cover our face and let us breathe automatically, and this whole transition from air to water is second nature by now. Water can be scary because of the waves and forces that can move you suddenly, but air can be equally scary because you notice gravity more, you move slower, waves that manage to hit you in the air do more t...

Dreamed on 2014.08.07.0458 Abducted off the street to serve as a cultural advisor to Kim Jong-un. He is driving the car this time to show his power, rather than being driven and showing weakness -- he came off as weak in the past during a physical competition we were both part of. Yesterday he made a show of killing his old driver, saying it was sad because he was a good driver, but then laughing like it didn't faze him. I ask him -- as politely as possible -- how he felt about what he just did: sad, angry, amused, etc. I say I am expressing genuine curiosity. He explains a concept about significance: "The repeated patterns around you gain significance based on how often you see them and what you associate them with. If you see the same necklace everywhere in a certain context, it begins to matter to you and mean something to you in a certain way. So it is with this." That's all he explains and it doesn't really make sense to me. I ask if I can stay nea...

Dreamed on 2014.05.22.0615 after the troll splinter stuck into the eye, the solid shape of her hair diffused into a fuzz of strands, and her stick-figure arms splayed at the end into long ribbons - fingers, we called them.

Dreamed on 2014.04.17.0755 The man was stuck in a loop, and someone had figured that out and committed a crime. It took me a while to realize he was stuck in a loop, since that's not the kind of thing that happens usually. A big loop, like, a Groundhog's Day loop, except time still passes for everyone else while he does the exact same thing everyday. The kitchen table was covered in dust except for the spot where he always sat each morning and night for his food. The carpet, even, had a path worn from the same tired footfalls he placed in the same spots each day. Lucky going shopping was in his daily routine (followed by a burger for lunch at the diner next door), or lack of food may have brought him down. The newspaper he read each morning was tissue paper thin now, and started to shred, but I could still read the date from ten years ago on the paper. Subsequent research told me that this had been the day the old man's wife had been murdered by an intruder in the hou...

Dreamed on 2013.05.26.0813 Post local apocalyptic surviving in an abandoned church-like structure.The entrance, which had symbolically never closed, was difficult to close. The dead rise with the setting sun.

Dreamed on 2014.02.17.0352 "But it's the obvious thing if we're both going to be downtown today." "Really? I mean, I don't feel safe. Someone could steal her, or she could get lost or something." "No, Bee's a good dog. Anyway, she's ready for this. This is what people do. We'll bring her down and let her go in the middle of the city. Then at the end of the day we'll go back and she'll be there." "Oh, alright." Anyway, we drop her off in the middle of the city and then walk for a while and she follows us. Then I have to clean up a mess she makes in a Subway - clearly she got into the potatoes at home. Later, I'm emailing a younger friend of mine who's in a creative writing class. He asks me at what age I considered myself a real writer / what is the ideal age before you can be a writer. I gave two answers. I think I won't be a real writer until I'm 112 years old. Also, when did you ever w...