Please excuse this narrative mess as I try to piece the mutilated corpse of my dreamworld back together.

Helma and I were moving out of our old place. We’d found a place in a set of double-storey apartments. The apartments were not well painted on the outside, a flakey paint job that you expect to see in slums. And that seems a rather appropriate way to describe the location overall. There was a large warehouse at one end of the street, with a long set of apartments, all attached, running from it. It was later apparent that some of the apartments closest to the warehouse were being used as clandestine retail operations, selling fresh foods and nick-nacks. Moving in didn’t seem to be difficult, although the ever-morphing layout of the apartment manifested new difficulties as things progressed. The cats, Smokey, Sushi and Banjo were all there in the apartment, however, as anyone who has moved with cats before knows, it is rather important to keep the felines contained for an amount of time, so they don’t nut the crap out and run all the way in whatever direction their whiskers take them. Smokey got out and I began to chase her down the back of the apartments. I found her hidden somewhere, but as I was taking her back, I noticed Banjo had also escaped. After also retrieving Banjo and putting her back inside, I realised that what I thought was Smokey, wasn’t Smokey. There was a slightly confusing moment or two of what cat is what. Twilight began to settle in. It was around this time that the seemingly quiet neighbourhood came alive. I walked outside, and there was a line beginning to grow at the entrance to the warehouse, which I only just noticed had an odd symbol and name on it. The crowd was fairly odd too. A wide variety of ages, but many in their early to mid 20’s. The dress-style was absurd and hard to decipher any theme out of… lots of bright colours, animal costumes, psychedelic renditions of kids movie characters. I spoke to a passing group of people, who informed me that the warehouse is the best rave venue in town, and they were on their way to meet a man who would be selling them ecstasy for the evening. As I was trying to to walk back to my apartment, it seemed that my memory of physical locations was dead, as I walked backward and forward over a relatively small area, trying to remember which apartment was mine. When I found it, a menagerie of people were inside. And I was in my underwear for no good reason. Some of the people seemed recognisable, and importantly, undesirable. I didn’t want to be in there any more, and luckily I then realised it wasn’t actually my apartment, though Helma was in there. We went back to our apartment, but that too had shifted. There were around five new people in there. They seemed much nicer than the others, but rather unfamiliar. These were our house-mates. Or apartment-mates. The apartment had shifted again and seemed larger inside than it did before. It was also now rather decorated, with anarchically placed art and junk everywhere. Lighting displays in corridors, strange twig constructions along walls. The people were rather friendly, but wanted to get the serious business of house-mate-stuff out of the way. I was asked to please take everything Helma and I had brought and take it in to our room, so we could organise things properly. As we went into the room, I realised we only had single beds which was a pain. Except, then I realised that each seemingly single bed had another pushed up to it to make it double, which I then realised means there is enough room for four people in the room. I then remembered that I completely forgot to pack anything at all from the kitchen. In fact…. I had completely forgotten to pack a lot of things.

Dreams sometimes make me wonder if I’ve just lived that entire life, I was that person… never was me up until the moment I just awoke. That person’s entire consciousness just up and shifted dimensions, right across barriers I can barely fathom, landing in this body at this time, filling in the temporal gaps with chemistry and electricity.
Who was this person? Was it all just fragments of all that I am, firing in a particularly incoherent pattern, but still coherent enough to form some sort of narrative… Is it all just mashed-up memories from all parts of the mind’s memory, from that visceral memory we most often think of when asked to remember something, to all the other bits we take for granted, the memories that make up our ability to type, walk, talk… the memories that tell your mind what yellow is, why things are allowed to move as they do and so forth. There is a strange place just after awakening from such a dream, where the world seems lucid… different somehow. Things are out of place, but everything is as it should be.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. darthyuuzhan
    Mar 30, 2013 @ 10:45:28

    Oh you were in my dream the other night Nick…

    I/we were playing Aliens online in a kinda VR setting and we were just going mental on a massive group (Alien vs Marines).

    Then I woke up (in the dream) and we were both passed out on the couch. You had bone deep gashes on your face, arms and legs from Alien claws. I had the worn nub of an Alien action figure in my hands. I apologised and I think we took you to hospital…


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