Love In The Asylum

I have work dreams on a fairly regular, if infrequent, basis - mostly when things are especially stressful, or when I'm learning something new that I'm afraid of doing wrong. All of a very similar type, where I am setting up an order that gets massively complicated and messy, or where I need to do important follow-up that I can't get done, or I am editing something that goes horribly wrong (one particularly memorable one, I got all the way to the end of something, sent it out, thought it was fine, and then colourofsaying saw it on the internet and texted me frantically to let me know it was about child molesting). I keep waking up and falling back into it, convinced that if I don't finish it I will be in horrible trouble, and eventually have to talk myself down and convince myself that I cannot affect our workflow with my brain.

Last night I watched Hannibal (which is awesome and I love it and it gives me lots of feelings, the most predominant of which is eeeeeeew) just before I went to bed.

These two things are related. In that I had a work dream/nightmare in which I was setting up an order for an urgent police bulletin about someone eating people.

...I don't think I like that kind of mental crossover.

In my dream, I was at some kind of international football-related tournament - it was all football players competing, but Zlatan Ibrahimovic won the whole thing by winning a horse race, I don't even know. But somehow, I ended up in the restaurant with the after-party, sharing a table with Zlatan, Pique, Puyol, David Villa, and a bunch of other footballers. Or, not quite sharing a table, but more like lurking quietly next to the table in an agony of nerves, trying to work up the nerve to ask Pique for his autograph. I'm pretty sure no one would have cared if I sat down with them - it was a very friendly table - but I was so terrified of embarrassing myself I just couldn't.

Finally I left to get an actual piece of paper for them to sign, and when I came back all the Spanish players except for Iniesta had left and my grandmother was sitting there chatting to Zlatan about his life in Italy. He got up to leave just as I sat down, so my grandma pretty much ordered to me to go after him, since he is one of my top ten football idol crushes, and I did, and actually asked him if he would give me his autograph. And his response was basically 'lol, no.'

On the one hand, that is totally how I expect the Zlatan would act in real life. On the other hand, BRAIN, THIS IS MY DREAM. ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN IF YOU WANT IT TO. WHY WOULD YOU MAKE ME ACT LIKE JUST AS MUCH OF A FANGIRLY LOSER AS I WOULD IN REAL LIFE?

As bizarre football dreams go, this still doesn't top the one where I had to help Iker Casillas find the porno he starred in.

I'm not sure if the action-movie dream I had last night is a sign that I should watch less anime right before bed, or more, but wow, that was an unusually coherent plot. (I know dream posts are annoying and self-indulgent, but dude, if I didn't want to be self-indulgent I wouldn't be keeping a public journal, so whatever).

When the dream started I was an ordinary high school age boy living in a large high-rise apartment complex with a lot of friends and a nice boyfriend. Things quickly got kind of odd, though. The friends were all acting weird, and the boyfriend was going to great lengths to avoid me, including hiding in his apartment and pretending to be sick. Dream-me was getting seriously freaked out, so finally one of my dream-friends took me aside to explain what was going on - at some point in the past we had all been part of some secret MIB-style alien fighting organization, but something traumatic happened to me and I disappeared. When I turned up again a year or so later, I was de-aged and amnesiac, and couldn't recognize any of them or tell them where I'd been. Hence the boyfriend acting strange, because we'd been lovers before, and he was finding the whole thing extremely hard to handle. When she told me this, it triggered the recovery of some of the lost memories, which were...not pleasant (the big traumatic event seemed to have been the graphic murder and mutilation of my mentor and wow, that's the first time I can remember puking in a dream). So I ran back to the apartment complex to tell the boyfriend what I'd remembered.

And then the apartment complex was attacked by the alien enemies we were supposed to be fighting. In the confusion, I wandered off to another part of the city and stayed there for a few hours. But when I came back to the apartment, everything looked different, and the landlady in the front of the building told me I'd been gone for six years. I'm not sure how to explain how terrifying this was in-dream, to not only have this huge chunk of my life missing again but to know that my friends had probably been suffering the whole time I was gone. The missing time also muddled up the rest of my already-shaky memories a lot worse, so I had forgotten again some of what I'd remembered before the attack.

The rest of the dream was a lot of sneaking through the apartment building, which was occupied by the aliens, trying to figure out how to set up a secure base from which to attack them, and occasionally getting jumped out at by aliens I had to figure out how to fight off. There may have been crawling through airducts. The stairwells figure prominently in my visual map of this dream. Also, a lot of trying to find my way back to the boyfriend. I usually hate this kind of action dream because even in my dreams I'm pretty incompetent, but this time I managed to not die pretty well, and I think when I woke up we were in the process of launching a major attack. But this part of the dream is a lot blurrier.

I don't know, I feel like there are seeds of an actually interesting sci fi drama kind of thing in there, maybe something cyberpunk-ish. The memory tropes are interesting, if nothing else. I may have to put that one on file for later consideration.

Should I be worried that my brain is trying to get into new pairings without my permission? I mean, the Kirk/Pike dream last night was pleasant, but I'm pretty sure I don't actually ship that.

(It was a really precious dream though. Kirk and Pike were in an established relationship and had a daughter, but she was being cared for by someone else and at the start of the dream Kirk and Pike were separated because Pike was on a mission and Kirk was on several months of administrative leave, possibly because he'd been injured. He was supposed to be assigned to something like temporarily working on reforms in Starfleet's military prison, but he successfully argued to them that he couldn't deal with that because he already felt so trapped being earthside and away from Pike, so they put him on a big engineering project, fixing a dam or something. And everyone he worked with was really weirded out because they'd heard all of these crazy stories about Captain Kirk but instead they got this quiet, serious guy who was really conscientious about finishing his paperwork. He knew a lot about engineering though, and came up with some good innovations for improving the dam.

Towards the end of the dream, he got a vid-call from Pike that they'd got permission to have their daughter with them on their next long-term mission, so he was really happy, but also sadface because Pike would see her before he did. And then the dream ended with Pike on his ship, also pining for Kirk, but he was all excited because they'd completed their mission early and he was going to get back to earth and go to Kirk's office to surprise him. I guess my subconscious just really likes pining and domestic fluff together.)

...That's coherent enough that I might actually consider adding it to my should-be-writing list. If, you know, I wanted to write Kirk/Pike. WHICH I DON'T. STOP IT BRAIN.

Dreamed last night that I performed some act of minor heroics, driving off the supervillain who was attacking the hotel where I was staying, along with the German NT. Bastian Schweinsteiger was so grateful he offered to show me around their floor and introduce me to all of the other players. (He was a very sweet, if rather excitable guy). We caught two of the players having sex in their hotel room. And then I ended up alone in Mueller's room, openly ogling and pretty much following him around like a puppy.

I think this is a sign from my brain that I should try to write the post-Spain loss h/c fic where Mueller is trying to take care of everyone who's sick and driving himself into the ground. Even if it is Loew/Lionel Messi (DON'T FUCKING ASK).

Last night I dreamed that Matt Smith and David Tennant were hanging out in my backyard, and they asked me to pick some music for them so they could have a karaoke gay-off. I woke up while I was freaking out because all of my music was too straight. What the hell, brain? I'm sure I've got at least a few songs that are gay enough even for Eleven...

I'd be more annoyed about my dream-self being too dense to give me the chance to see Ten/Eleven karaoke, but I just stopped at the post office and found a package from my mom that had a) girl scout cookies and b) pictures of our animals, including the new baby mini horse. And who can be grumpy in the face of that much concentrated awesome and cuteness?

I woke up this morning in a panic after a dream where I forgot that I was supposed to give an unscripted, completely off-the-cuff presentation in my Japanese class. At least I still remembered some of my Japanese in this dream, but with only five minutes to think of a topic and something coherent to say, I ended up...describing the plot of Supernatural to a roomful of people. In Japanese. What the hell, brain?

I'm pretty sure this was one of my first 'surprise test you haven't studied for' dreams. Weird.

Last night, I had a dream that when we turned on the news, all the stations were covering the same story: a Canadian politician was being arrested for attacking his political opponents with his zombie army.

Man, can you imagine what would happen if Rahm and Nancy had their own zombie army? I can!

We've been talking about dream analysis a lot (well, relatively a lot) lately - a few weeks ago was Freud, and today was the Surrealist manifesto. And I find it highly amusing - for all my occultish interests, I've always thought dream interpretation was utter bollocks, especially for psychoanalytic purposes. Possibly because the below is fairly representative of my dream content.

In the dream I had last night, Loki (the Norse God Norse figure, not the Marvel Comics Norse figure, thank you) was trying to take over the world. Luckily, he had to gather his power, and this was going to take awhile. In the meantime, if some guy in a beard could do...well, something, and I could summon Mithrys, the sea goddess/spirit/thingie (I KNOW that in Greenwitch it's Gethrys, my subconscious doesn't care). The only way to summon Mithrys, though, was through a magic coin, which was...on the bottom of the sea floor? So I had my dolphin friend let me ride on his back to dive down and try to pick it up? Except that the sea floor apparently functions as a giant fountain, and was littered with coins.
And then the Goddess (not Mithrys, just a generic goddess) showed up and I bitched about 'it's soooo haaaaaard to find this coin can't you heeeeelp me' and she told me to STFU. And then she and bearded guy gave Loki his arm and wing back - since they were missing and he was pissed about it and they thought if he wasn't pissed about it he'd stop wanting to take over the world. Except it just meant he was stronger. Which kinda sucked, cause I still couldn't find the stupid coin.

And when it looked like I was going to utterly fail, everyone and their brother showed up to fight Loki instead. Including the X-Men. Not even the cool X-Men - the bad 90s cartoon X-Men. And then there were X-Men related romantic sub-plots, but my alarm went off before anyone either the final battle or Logan and Scott getting into it over Jean.

I'd like to know what Freud would make of that.  I really really would.

On a side note, there are FUCKING BEES IN MY FUCKING ROOM HOLY FUCK HOW DO I MAKE THEM GO AWAY?!