Saturday, June 18, 2005
Something for the road
At 10:10 tomorrow morning, I'll be on a plane to Philadelphia, where I'll spend the weekend with my godmother. I've grown more nervous about planes in the past few years, despite the fact that I've been riding on them since I was in diapers. I'll leave you all with this song, which is a good stand-in for the emotions I feel as I lift off at this rather complicated period of my life.
The Foo Fighters - A320
The lyrics to A320 go like this:
There is a place I'd love to go
Strangers takin' me there
I dream about the day I learn to fly
I'm afraid of aeroplanes
Even though I like the way
that it feels to be a person in the sky
It's alright
and it's good
this time
I look out and on the ground
really don't believe it
gravity can pull me from this height
One day we'll come crashing down
What will I do
Never had a chance to say goodbye
Close my eyes and hope that it's
a real smooth flight
this time
Close my eyes and hope that it's
a real smooth flight
And it's good
this time
I look down and on the ground
I look down and on the ground
I look down and on the ground
I look out, we're going down
The lyric "Close my eyes and hope that it's a real smooth flight this time" is actually how I feel every time I meet someone new.
It's probably not the best song to listen to because I think that the lyrics and the music imply that the plane crashes in the end.
The Patient
We were driving again, but this time we had a mission. However, two of us couldn’t stand each other. I don’t know his name, so we’ll call him Jack for now.
Jack and I had problems, and they needed to be worked out pronto. Our van stopped at a gas station so we could work out our problems. Jack was bigger than me, but I had it in my mind to beat the tar out of him.
I’ve never really been in a fight in real life, although I got slapped around once when I was in middle-school. I took karate for a long time, but luckily never had to use it. However, whenever I get in fights in my dreams, I always end up hurting my opponent badly, and never even receive a scratch, leaving me guilty as hell.
Well you can see where this fight is going. Jack and I made a big show of it, each taking off our outer layers of shirts (it was a cold day) until we were just in t-shirts, jeans, and bare feet. We circled each other for a second, and then with little hesitation we went at it. As expected, I put him down fairly quickly, but then I proceeded to hit him just a few times to many while he was down.
Suddenly we were outside a gas station anymore, we were in some strange building… almost like an asylum. “Oh shit,” I thought: Jack didn’t look like he was breathing. Someone unseen announced to me that Jack’s body was dying, and that the only thing they could do to save him would be to remove his head.
Next thing I knew, Jack’s head was in a box with all these wires attached to it, and he was groaning. But somehow I knew that this wasn’t going to work, and that he was going to die soon. Suddenly the rest from the van were in the room with me. I suggested we get Jack to a proper hospital soon. They wanted to go on.
You see, we were looking for treasure or something very valuable out in the desert. We had just found out the exact location, and the others were very eager to get out there. They didn’t care that Jack was dying. One of the girls, Lindsey, was very adamant that we go on. I suggested that another girl, Melissa, take a separate car and drive Jack to the hospital a couple of hours back. They seemed to like that idea.
But it was not to be, suddenly the door was kicked down, and the asylum security rushed the room. In the confusion, a fire was started, and we all jumped out the window and rushed down the fire escape. I was on the ground floor before I realized we had left Jack’s head up there to burn. Somehow we had all decided it was best for poor Jack.
Security was chasing us down. I heard my dad somewhere in the background, telling me to run. The guard shot me with a pepper spray gun, and I went down. Through my burning eyes, I saw Jack, back to his normal head-attached-to-body status. And he was running away, he was all right. I blacked out.
I woke up.
Jack and I had problems, and they needed to be worked out pronto. Our van stopped at a gas station so we could work out our problems. Jack was bigger than me, but I had it in my mind to beat the tar out of him.
I’ve never really been in a fight in real life, although I got slapped around once when I was in middle-school. I took karate for a long time, but luckily never had to use it. However, whenever I get in fights in my dreams, I always end up hurting my opponent badly, and never even receive a scratch, leaving me guilty as hell.
Well you can see where this fight is going. Jack and I made a big show of it, each taking off our outer layers of shirts (it was a cold day) until we were just in t-shirts, jeans, and bare feet. We circled each other for a second, and then with little hesitation we went at it. As expected, I put him down fairly quickly, but then I proceeded to hit him just a few times to many while he was down.
Suddenly we were outside a gas station anymore, we were in some strange building… almost like an asylum. “Oh shit,” I thought: Jack didn’t look like he was breathing. Someone unseen announced to me that Jack’s body was dying, and that the only thing they could do to save him would be to remove his head.
Next thing I knew, Jack’s head was in a box with all these wires attached to it, and he was groaning. But somehow I knew that this wasn’t going to work, and that he was going to die soon. Suddenly the rest from the van were in the room with me. I suggested we get Jack to a proper hospital soon. They wanted to go on.
You see, we were looking for treasure or something very valuable out in the desert. We had just found out the exact location, and the others were very eager to get out there. They didn’t care that Jack was dying. One of the girls, Lindsey, was very adamant that we go on. I suggested that another girl, Melissa, take a separate car and drive Jack to the hospital a couple of hours back. They seemed to like that idea.
But it was not to be, suddenly the door was kicked down, and the asylum security rushed the room. In the confusion, a fire was started, and we all jumped out the window and rushed down the fire escape. I was on the ground floor before I realized we had left Jack’s head up there to burn. Somehow we had all decided it was best for poor Jack.
Security was chasing us down. I heard my dad somewhere in the background, telling me to run. The guard shot me with a pepper spray gun, and I went down. Through my burning eyes, I saw Jack, back to his normal head-attached-to-body status. And he was running away, he was all right. I blacked out.
I woke up.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Anselmo's duty
Fall semester I had a collection of fairly dark dreams, which I chronicled in this blog:
Blogging a nightmare
Crossing the void
Yet another post-apocalyptic dream
After the nightmare ends
When there is no more room left in hell
They were later suppressed by a volley of frappuchinos (it appears that caffeine reduces my brain's dream output). However, as my intake has been greatly reduced, I'm starting to dream more often. I was planning to sit on these for a while, but they are beginning to pile up, so here we go. I had this disturbing one last week.
We were on a road trip again. The mountain green of the southern states always surrounds the highways as they twist and turn. I was racing along with a car full of friends, attempting to make it to our destination before sundown. It was a slightly cloudy day, but as we rounded a bend, I saw that the bridge up ahead was bathed in sunlight, falling out of crack in the cloud cover.
Or, at least, I thought I saw the bridge. To my horror, as we got closer, we realized that the bridge had been destroyed. The loud music of the car stereo was a whisper as all five of our young voices echoed in a collective scream as the car tumbled off the broken bridge and into the chasm below.
When the five of us woke, it was sunset, and we were parked outside of a small cabin resort area. It seemed that many people were stranded there due to the destruction of the bridge, and gossip concerning the manner of its destruction floated through the air. Apparently it had been some sort of attack.
As the last bit of sunlight vanished we crammed into the lobby of the resort, where many were already huddled around a television, listening to a government report on the attacks. According to the report, this wasn't the work of terrorists; it was not the work of any human hand.
Suddenly the wall was ripped away by something gigantic yet hidden. Debris and people were scattered, and soon the chorus of screams erupted yet again. There were snarls... and blood was everywhere. I stumbled out into the woods that surrounded the resort, following the masses of people that ran, as we listened to the sounds of the building being ripped to shreds. What had destroyed the bridge now was exacting its wrath on the resort, and out in the forest we didn't stand a chance against it.
Blogging a nightmare
Crossing the void
Yet another post-apocalyptic dream
After the nightmare ends
When there is no more room left in hell
They were later suppressed by a volley of frappuchinos (it appears that caffeine reduces my brain's dream output). However, as my intake has been greatly reduced, I'm starting to dream more often. I was planning to sit on these for a while, but they are beginning to pile up, so here we go. I had this disturbing one last week.
We were on a road trip again. The mountain green of the southern states always surrounds the highways as they twist and turn. I was racing along with a car full of friends, attempting to make it to our destination before sundown. It was a slightly cloudy day, but as we rounded a bend, I saw that the bridge up ahead was bathed in sunlight, falling out of crack in the cloud cover.
Or, at least, I thought I saw the bridge. To my horror, as we got closer, we realized that the bridge had been destroyed. The loud music of the car stereo was a whisper as all five of our young voices echoed in a collective scream as the car tumbled off the broken bridge and into the chasm below.
When the five of us woke, it was sunset, and we were parked outside of a small cabin resort area. It seemed that many people were stranded there due to the destruction of the bridge, and gossip concerning the manner of its destruction floated through the air. Apparently it had been some sort of attack.
As the last bit of sunlight vanished we crammed into the lobby of the resort, where many were already huddled around a television, listening to a government report on the attacks. According to the report, this wasn't the work of terrorists; it was not the work of any human hand.
Suddenly the wall was ripped away by something gigantic yet hidden. Debris and people were scattered, and soon the chorus of screams erupted yet again. There were snarls... and blood was everywhere. I stumbled out into the woods that surrounded the resort, following the masses of people that ran, as we listened to the sounds of the building being ripped to shreds. What had destroyed the bridge now was exacting its wrath on the resort, and out in the forest we didn't stand a chance against it.
