cremains: (Default)
I dreamt I was a droid in the Imperial army. My detachment was sent to Hoth to clear snow for the Emperor. As we were busy cracking this cliff of ice and blowing away snow, suddenly the cliff-face fell to reveal a gas duct, which blew poisonous fumes at us. I realised that the Emperor all along hadn't wanted some random snow cleared, he just wanted this droid detachment to die, and now he was going to kill us with gas. The sole survivor of my regiment, I managed to climb over the gas duct and through a weird sort of tunnel.

The tunnel lead into a huge, cluttered, filthy kitchen. I clattered to the floor, got up, and looked around. Used pots were hanging everywhere and puffs of smoke obscured the air. There were grease spots streaking any visible wall space. Most urgently, however, my entrance had caused a fire to one of the tin ceiling fans and I had to put it out before somebody noticed me. Thankfully I had some sort of fire extinguisher attachment on me.

I heard someone coming and shoved aside some broken dishes and dented pots to sit in the cupboard; I thought my dirty robot body blended in well. The chef came in, a dark-green goblin with a giant paunch covered with stains. He had a little tattered chef hat, cocked to one side, and carried a spatula in the other hand. He looked this way and that. He saw me, but even though he registered what I was, that was not significant to him. I really was just like a kitchen utensil.

In a freak twist, I "woke up" to realise that my whole world was actually a video game designed by [personal profile] egregious. I was playing a demo version in a dark bar while she looked on. "This is really awesome, you have to make it," I told her.

But then even though I was myself the world turned out to be the same dystopian Star Wars world, and somehow I still ended up being that droid.

wtf

Nov. 20th, 2011 09:10 am
cremains: (drunken vulcan)
I had a dream that I was leaving Israel, and stood on a dirt road crying, waiting for a bus to come to take me to the airport. A bunch of them passed by, and finally I asked one of the drivers, "Excuse me, do you go to the airport?" Although I was sure it was the wrong line, he said yes, and when I got on asked me all sorts of questions about where I was going and why. He helped me get all my identification papers in order and fix my passport. This sort of gregariousness is pretty common in Israeli bus drivers when they're not spazzing out and swearing at you for using their personal trash can or paying with a large bill.

Finally I got off the bus and was processed through the lines at the airport, where thanks to the driver I had no trouble. I walked through security and came to a large lot. Instead of a plane, there was another bus waiting for me. The driver this time was Emperor Palpatine, which shocked me. He asked me where I wanted to go. "I just want to learn more Shulhan Arukh," I said, feeling miserable. He cackled mirthlessly. "Oh, you'll learn some fucking Shulhan Arukh, alright," he said, and locked the doors.

I just want to say that I haven't even been watching or thinking about Star Wars so I have no idea why Palpatine is appearing in so many of my dreams.

***

In an earlier dream, the woman who gave us her cats was throwing a Halloween party for all the cats in our neighbourhood. She lived in a huge mansion which she said she was leaving to us. She stood on a balcony wearing fancy clothes and sipping champaign; in the background was a giant rug hook tapestry of a pumpkin. Cleocatra and Mercutio walked around on their hind legs, serving drinks to the other cats on silver trays.

Betrayal

Nov. 16th, 2011 08:52 am
cremains: (drunken vulcan)
This dream took place in Orthanc, which a traitorous Darth Vader had wrest from my control (I was Emperor Palpatine). Now I was an exile in my own empire. I had to sneak inside the tower to re-establish myself; I managed to evade the guards of the gate, and inside found a sympathetic guard from the Bronx named Eliana who said she would help me rule again. And how would this be accomplished? She took me up and down Orthanc's old-fashioned elevator, collecting extension cords and, most importantly, my old boombox.

The dream cut to Darth Vader closing in on me.

Suddenly a blast of music was heard as everything was hooked up - Frank Sinatra. Vader recoiled but then shouted to his minions, "Get the boombox, the emperor's strength is in song!" He grabbed it out of my withered hands himself and then threw it down the elevator shaft as I writhed on the floor. Victory was his.

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this hill is far enough

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