Dream Diary

I apologize for taking a three week break from writing anything. I've been a combination of busy and drained. I found a way that might allow me to create a daily posting consistently. I've been writing down my dreams when I remember them. I do this immediately upon waking from the dream, when I'm still in a semi-conscious state. Reading it later made me laugh. I hope it makes you laugh.

January 31, 2009

I was in a somewhat familiar area at night and was tired. I was with Megan and we were in this automated open car that was traveling down a road that was similar to River Road in Edgewater, New Jersey. Megan decided to get off the vehicle to do something, but told me she’d meet me wherever I decided to lodge. I felt unsafe, but she pushed a large red button on the dashboard. When it was pressed, it made a ding and a sound of a provocative woman’s voice said “We’re comin’ for you baby”. I thought it was so hilarious so I pushed it repeatedly. Megan and I laughed, but then she went to the gas station because she wanted tortilla. My ride began to take me through a really raunchy part of town. There were modern day bordellos up and down the streets with weird signs describing in “not so subtle” ways what things each place offered. One had a sign on the front that read something like “Bad Day? Lost your Blackberry? Found Out your Date is a Transvestite? Do Her Here!”

I thought it was annoying, but, for some reason, had no idea, as far as I now know, that I was dreaming. As I was taken by this vehicle through this prostitution city, it instantly turned to day and I had not yet found a place to lodge and Megan was not back yet. I got off my vehicle and, as I reached to get my suitcase, the vehicle was now a giant Crayola box with a mouth that had scary, sharp teeth. It drooled weirdly so I thought ‘Fuck the suitcase’.

I was in a motel room. I never checked in. This was weird. George W. Bush was sitting on the couch. My mom and dad were talking in the kitchen area. ‘Wow. What a coincidence’, I thought, neglecting the fact that there was something strange about George W. Bush sitting on my motel room couch. I noticed the eating table had broken shackles dangling from it. I asked my mom why there were shackles on my eating table. She told me that Bush was keeping prisoners there. I asked her why he was keeping prisoners in a motel room, shackled to a table. She told me that he kept them there because those were the types of prisoners who didn’t talk when Bush wanted answers.

Megan was still not back yet. My dad started passionately telling me how great a man Anwar El Sadat was, but then he started telling me, just as passionately, that Sadat was a Nazi. This made no sense. I told my mom that I didn’t like the wallpaper in the room, so she told me to wear a shower cap. I put one on and my parents disappeared along with the bad wallpaper, surprisingly.

I was mad at Bush for sitting on my couch and for keeping prisoners in my motel room, so I decided to blow a hole through the ground and have a bomb go off that would blow up the couch. I had no intention of harming him. I just wanted him to be sitting, inconveniently, on a couch that had been blown up by me. As I was doing the rigging of the explosives, I began to narrate, in my head, the letter of protest I wanted Bush to find after the explosions. It went something like “When you find this, I will have already blown a hole in the floor and escaped through it. I hope your exploded couch feels nice. You shouldn’t shackle prisoners to my table anymore.” Feeling as though I had achieved something, the floor blew up. I jumped through a hole that led to my backyard in Oakville. I saw Megan walking with a paper bag. I told her that we needed to run. We heard and felt a second explosion. It must have been the couch that Bush was sitting on, because Secret Service agents started tickling Megan and made her drop her paper bag, which had been carrying bagels and metal spoons. I woke up.

I would like to thank George W. Bush, Anwar El Sadat, mom, dad and Megan for participating in my weird dream. Thank you all.

Nightly Lucidity Part Three

Last night, I had a rather intense dreaming experience. Though I do not understand the meaning of it or the correlation it has to my real life, I felt it would be a good idea to at least document it and share it. Before I tell you about the dream, keep in mind that, it is Saturday and I'd been waiting since Thursday to find out if my paycheck had arrived to my former workplace, the identity of which I will conceal by changing its name to RadioShed. Since RadioShed's corporate offices decided it would be safest to send the payroll checks for each store in one envelope by regular uncertified U.S. Mail, it is not always guaranteed that employees will receive their paychecks on payday. Ingenious, isn't it? Their argument is that, if you you want to be ensured money when it is expected, you should sign up for direct deposit. This is their way of playing their part in making sure that banks stay in business. It is an obligation bestowed unto everyone in the United States. Haven't you ever heard about the Ninth Day? Well, on the Ninth Day, God created the American to nourish banks and protect them from the ills of the world, even if it meant putting their own money into someone else's bank account. Before I go off on another tangent, the reason I had to wait for my paycheck instead of direct deposit is because I am no longer employed by RadioShed. Once you are no longer an employee of the company, a check is issued instead of being linked to your bank account and is sent to the store you no longer work in instead of to your address. Another ingenious idea.

In my dream, I dreamt that I had gone to RadioShed to pick up my paycheck and I had to walk through windy snow to get to the door. The wind was really strong and was making me walk more slowly. It was trying to push me away. I felt the snow on my neck and it felt colder than the usual snow. Once I opened the door of RadioShed, I immediately realized that I was dreaming. I remembered that I hadn't worked in this place since December and that the only reason I'd come here would be to get my paycheck and I remembered that no one had told me it had arrived yet. Once I realized I was dreaming, I decided to stay so I could have a little fun. The store looked exactly the same. The only difference was that the TVs were not the same as they really were. They were the old cathode-ray style. Also, the manager wasn't there. It was a manager from another RadioShed, whom I knew.

The girl I had worked with was there. I was really happy to see her for some reason. I'm always happy to see people I know when I'm in my dream, even though I've come to realize that they are not the same people I know. They are just representatives. I suddenly became overwhelmed with the urge to try to operate some of the electronics in the store. It's fascinating trying to operate machinery you use everyday while you're in a dream. Driving a car, for instance, can be very exhilerating or, if you're control level is not great enough, it can also be quite frustrating. At times, the pedals don't function or the road you're on moves instead of the car.

I picked up a wireless router to see if it would work and, then, I realized that that was too complex a device to be testing in my dream. If I could pick up a Wi-Fi connection in my dream world, I'd be living the sweet life. I walked over to the TVs and tried to push the button on the front of it, but it immediately became a cardboard prop version of a TV, similar to one you'd find in a model home or a furniture outlet. I then picked up an AM/FM/SW radio and turned the dial so it would turn on. Nothing happened. I then realized there was an electrical cord for it. I plugged one end into the back of the radio and then I tried looking for an electrical outlet. The outlets that I knew of were nowhere to be found. After searching a few moments, I finally found one on top of the checkout counter, which didn't really make sense, but what does in these situations? After I plugged it in, I heard a loud sound of static, which scared everyone in the store. I tried to adjust the channel and the static stopped. After a short moment, a gaseous shape spewed out from the speaker. It eventually shaped into a gaseous image of a man in a suit with a radio show microphone next to him. He didn't seem to be aware that I was watching him, but I sure knew he was there. He then began to talk as if he were on one of those nightly radio station book reading shows. I changed the channel again and the same thing happened, only a girl in a cowgirl outfit who looked like Shania Twain came out and sang a song with a voice similar to Shakira's.


I awoke from this dream with the sound of my phone receiving a text message from the real manager of RadioShed, telling me that my check had arrived. I think I might need a dream book for this one...

Photograph: RadioShed by Megan Dooling (Thanks bunches, sister!!)

Sensory Epiphany

Okay. This is going to be super short. That's right. Super short. I have something planned for a full-length post, but I haven't finished all my research. To tie anyone over, I made a new discovery quite recently. In the past I'd been exposed to film and album synchronicity. For instance, Fantasia syncs up perfectly with Smashing Pumpkin's Siamese Dream and Yellow Submarine (film) syncs up with Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon.

The reason for this fitting has never been explained to me. I don't choose to question it, because I'm sure there are thousands of disputed and debated opinions on the subject. All I know is that it works and it's absolutely mesmerizing.


I used to try and see if some albums would sync up with certain films, usually by finding an album that I felt complimented the film in a certain way, as if I could have imagined the album as the film's actual soundtrack. That was unsuccessful. I then remembered that Fantasia does not exactly remind me of Smashing Pumpkins at all.

Recently, I was playing Waking Life on the television in my room. I had just pushed play about five minutes before I had fragments from a Radiohead song stuck in my head. It was one of those scenarios in which I knew I had heard the song plenty of times before, but I couldn't focus on what I was partially hearing in my head. At first, I couldn't recall what album it was on because I was only hearing fragments of it. I went to my iPod, which has every Radiohead song that I'm aware of being in recorded existence and, as I looked through the album titles, I immediately remembered that it was on their latest album, In Rainbows. It wasn't that I had remembered more of the song or I was hearing more fragments than I primarily had. I just intuitively knew that it was on that album. There was something about the newness of the sounds I was hearing that was convincing me of that. I was right. I realized it was the song, Reckoner. I had my iPod on my iHome in my iRoom on top of my iDesk. (I apologize. I didn't want anyone to think I was unaware of the globalization of the "i" before everything)

As I was listening to this song, Waking Life was still playing on my TV, but since I have it so that my sound plays through my iHome, the audio from the film was off. As I glanced at the screen, I realized that the scene in the movie and the song I had selected went together perfectly. I had, in the past, spent hours trying to discover even a minute of film/album synchronicity. I began to wonder 'Why had fragments of this song started playing at the exact time which led everything to happen so that the song I was thinking of would play at its sync place in a movie I had just put in?' I don't have an answer to this, but I like it.
If you have access to Radiohead's In Rainbows and Richard Linklater's film, Waking Life, start the song, Reckoner, at the very beginning of the second chapter of Waking Life. It is a very enjoyable experience. I'm not only enthused about the discovery of this sync, but I'm also bewildered by all the variables that this whole discovery process entailed and how it seemed to be so coincidental but so meaningful. The oddest thing is that I got the same sort of impulse to play each of these media forms, as if they had wanted for me to play them.

If anyone finds similar discoveries, please feel free to let me know at DaveCB@optonline.net

Prepubescent Police Blotter

By the day, this country of ours is becoming more and more of a police palace. Not that I've been known to be the most innocent person in the world, but I, on numerous occasions, have been harassed by the police, when I wasn't doing anything illegal. It used to happen much more frequently, since I had lived in a suburban Connecticut town and I was a teenager. I guess I was an easy target for cops who had nothing to do. Now, I live in a semi-urban borough in New Jersey and most of the police force is too busy dealing with traffic and parking violations to pick on my 23-year-old self. A few weeks ago, however, I was standing outside in the rain, listening to my iPod (yes, in the rain) and I noticed a police car slowly creeping up the street with an officer at its wheel (and I have no better way to put this) "grilling" me. He crept farther up the street and pulled a u-turn. He then sped back down the street toward me and rolled down his window. He proceeded to ask me what I was doing and I explained that I was just standing. He couldn't understand why I would voluntarily stand in the rain.

"In the rain?" he asked, bewildered.

"Yeah." I was wondering why he had even stopped to ask me anything at all.

"Where do you live?" he asked, intrusively.

I knew I didn't legally have to respond to that question. I was not breaking the law, but I wanted him to feel retarded so I turned and pointed directly behind myself and condescendingly responded "Right there."

I know that the best thing to do in situations such as these is to just smile and say "Yes, officer. Would you like me to lick your balls now, officer? Yes, officer. I'd be delighted to, officer," but I have too big an ego for that. I know doing the opposite of this can lead to unjust but likely consequences, but I would love to receive that sympathy after being the guy who was arrested for standing outside his house in the rain. The media would have a field day with that.

Anyhow, he noticed I was being obnoxious. It wasn't as if I were trying to conceal that. After all, I wanted him to feel retarded. Realizing that I was probably the type of young fellow who knew his rights and probably knew more about law than he, the officer agreed to end this invasive interrogation and gave me a sinister look and said "All right. Don't get wet now."

Of course, I did not want to let him have the last word so I asked, very curiously, "Is that against the law?"

Knowing that he had a badge and I didn't and my response was due to my disgust at his overestimation and abuse of his vested power, he got out of the car and gave me the "I'm just trying to look out for the community" speech, which I mockingly nodded to.

This was not the topic I wanted to focus on today. The real topic, however, reminded me that I've been in situations in which officers of the "law" took advantage of their minimal, but still excessive, power. Just ask my friend Rob about the time I got thrown up against a car for smiling at an officer at 7-11.

Today, my sister told me that she had read a group of articles, one about a 4-year-old boy in Jackson, Ohio, who was possibly facing charges for shooting his babysitter with a shotgun. My first thought was that this was an accidental shooting. She proceeded to tell me that it was an act of revenge. Apparently, the babysitter inadvertently stepped on the boy's foot. The boy then threatened to shoot the babysitter. Though several people were present, no one took this boy seriously. After all, he was only 4 years old. This boy definitely meant business. He ran to the other room, went into a closet, grabbed a gun, opened a drawer, took out a shell, loaded the gun and fired it at the babysitter. I'm assuming the child knew what he was doing, but the fact remains that he is a 4-year-old. I later found out in the article that the police are debating whether or not the child should be charged. Babysitter Shot by Angry 4-Year-Old.

In another article, a 5-year-old girl was arrested for having a tantrum in her kindergarten class. I remember being in kindergarten and I remember committing far worse kindergarten crimes and the worst that ever happened to me was I'd have to take a visit to the Principal's office. If I had known I could be taken out in handcuffs, I'd first, refrain from ever doing anything wrong and secondly, I'd begin to wonder why they would even manufacture handcuffs in my size. Honestly, if police want to start infiltrating elementary schools, they should bring the Catholic schools up on charges for racketeering, extortion and money laundering. No one likes magazines enough to have magazine drives. Handcuffed 5-Year-Old Sparks Suit

Another article revealed that a 10-year-old girl in Ocala, Florida was brought up on weapons charges after bringing a steak knife to school to cut her steak during lunch. I understand there is this zero-tolerance policy in certain areas of the country, which state that no student is allowed to bring a knife to school. I understand that it is permitted to pack a plastic knife with your lunch in these zero-tolerance zones, but I will guarantee that anyone who tries to cut a steak with a plastic knife will feel like killing someone with it by the end of the day. Furthermore, I'm sure anything can be construed as a weapon. I've heard of a person spooning another's eyes out. Should little Timmy be escorted from his first grade class in handcuffs for trying to eat his yogurt? 10-Year-Old Arrested for Cutting Her Lunch with a Knife

A straight-A student, Allen Lee, 18, of Chicago, was arrested for "disorderly conduct" after completing a creative writing assignment, an assignment his teacher found to be disturbing. Students had expressed to the Chicago Tribune that the teacher had "encouraged students to express their emotions through writing." I found a reconstructed copy of Lee's homework assignment and I must admit that it was rather disturbing. What would literature be worth without disturbing the reader? Dr. Seuss was never brought up on charges, at least not for writing Green Eggs and Ham. I actually find that immensely more disturbing than Lee's work. Here is what his homework assignment said:

"Blood sex and Booze. Drugs Drugs Drugs are fun. Stab, Stab, Stab, S…t…a…b…, poke. "So I had this dream last night where I went into a building, pulled out two P90s and started shooting everyone…, then had sex with the dead bodies. Well, not really, but it would be funny if I did." Umm, yeah, what to wright about…… I'm leaving to join the Marines and I really don't give a (obscenity) about my academics, so why does the only class that's complete Bull Shit, happen to be the only required class…enough said. The model citizen would stay around to vote in new board member to change the 4 years of English policy, but no one really stays around to vote for that kind of local crap, so whoever gets there name on the Ballet with a pretty face gets to do what the (obscenity) ever they want with local ordinance. A person is smart, but people are dumb selfish animals. We can't make rules for ourselves so we vote others to do it for us, but we can't even do that right, I meen seriously, Bush for President? And our other option was John Kerry who claimed to parktake in Vietnam Special Forces missions that haven't been declassified….(obscenity) Bull Shit. So Power Flower Super Mario. Pudge, hook, rot, dismember "Fresh Meat." Mostly new/young teachers are laid back, and cooperative with students as feedback and input into the curriculum and atmosphere. My current English teacher is a control freak intent on setting a gap between herself and her students like a 63 year old white male fortune 500 company CEO, and a illegal immigrant. If CG was a private catholic school, I could understand, but wtf is her problem. And baking brownies and rice crispies does not make up for it, way to try and justify yourself as a good teacher while underhandedly looking for complements on your cooking. No quarrel on you qualifications as a writer, but as a teacher, don't be surprised on inspiring the first cg shooting."

When I first read this, I was thinking 'Wow. Chicago must be really fucked up if this is the work of a straight-A student.' I then remembered reading Flowers for Algernon, in which the author writes in the first person perspective of a mentally retarded person. The author was actually, in fact, a genius. Whatever the case may be, all the kid was trying to do was complete a homework assignment as he had been instructed:

• Write nonstop for a set period of time.

• Do not make corrections as you write.

• Keep writing, even if you have to write something like, "I don't know what to write."

• Write whatever comes into your mind.

• Do not judge or censor what you are writing.

• If your free writing is neat and coherent, you probably haven't loosened up enough.

Though I feel he didn't have to, Allen Lee also wrote an explanation, explaining why he had completed his assignment the way he did. I feel that he followed the instructions wonderfully. Being that I'm a person who makes errors in writing, but far fewer than most, I would probably force myself to spell the word "write" with a 'g' and an 'h' just so my teacher didn't think I wasn't "loosened up enough." How are the female students supposed to react to "you probably haven't loosened up enough"? Though the argument could be made that the reporting of this disturbing assignment was strictly precautionary, I can relate to wanting to take advantage of an assignment such as this. I would just want to purposely cross the line to prove that my teacher was not comfortable with me completing the assignment as it was assigned. This is what Allen had to say about his assignment:

"Authors Note: This production of writing is done in the most accurate manner I can depict of the original writing. Grammar and spelling mistakes are included at the best accuracy possible. The first phrase in questions is in fact a Green Day song. The second reference to drugs is in relation to the schools history of drug problems. I am personally clean of all controlled substances. The statement in quotes is done so as a non personal statement as I would have done in reference to a character for a story. The reference to the gun P90 is from a video game, combined with a reference to necrophilia as a comment regarding a seriously messed up situation. A situation such as the rape of villagers during a raid by U.S. troops in Vietnam. I really do not care too much about by continuing academia as in relation to grades. I do however believe on continuing my personal education, and I am actually still working for my classes. My views on the graduation requirements explain themselves. The reference to Mario and Pudge( a DOTA character) are completely random as is this essay. The reference to a person being smart and people being dumb is based on a quote from "Men in Black." I generally do believe the public opinion is best. The rest of the essay is rather self explanatory, the main statement in question I have already released a comment online about. I request that all information I have released is read together, and nothing given separately or as an excerpt as the administration has seen fit to do.

On an additional note, I have completed the MEPS (Military Entry Processing Station) examinations, and yes a psychiatric evaluation is included in the process. If I'm qualified to defend the country, I believe I'm qualified to attend school."

If anything good came out of this, it's the excuse that high school students will have in that school for several years to come. If asked by their parents "Why didn't you study? Why didn't you do your homework?", they could always respond with "I didn't want to end up in jail. The way I divide my fractions might be disturbing to my teacher." THREAT LEVEL Prediction Comes True: Student Arrested for Creative Writing Essay

Revolver

I know it may seem a little late (about three years) to be writing a review for this film. However, I've gathered through extensive research, that many people probably never knew this film had ever been made or released. With that being known, I feel that I might be a little too early. It doesn't really matter, though. I don't plan to write a review for the Guy Ritchie film, Revolver. My goal here is to share with you a psychological experience I've endured over the past week because, of course, of this film. I must warn you, though, that what I write in the proceeding paragraphs may be correctly or incorrectly construed as being filled with spoilers. If you have seen this movie, feel free to delight yourself with reading what I have to write. If you haven't seen this movie and have absolutely no intention of doing so, please read along and this might act as a persuasive trigger for you to see this film. If you haven't seen the film, but want to, please watch the film and come back to this page afterwards. For all the skimmers out there, the following line is for you.

POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT!

I got this film on DVD as a gift from my sister last week. --Thank you, Becky.-- I watched the film for the first time the day I got it and I was basically confused, bothered, sickened and challenged psychologically. I had no idea if I had hated it or if I had loved it. To keep you on the same page, I'll give you a short synopsis. Basically, the story begins with the release of a conman, Jake Green (Jason Statham), from a seven year solitary confinement sentence. Upon his release, he visits the casino owned by Dorothy (Mr. D) Macha, the very powerful gangster responsible for Jake's term. Jake, then, beats him in a game of chance and Macha can not face the fact that there is a free man capable of beating him. Macha, then puts a hit out on him and his survival is dependent upon two loan sharks, Avi (Andre Benjamin) and Zack (Vincent Pastore).

The two loan sharks explain to Green that they have copies of his medical records and that it reveals that he will die in three days from a terminal blood disease. For saving Green's life, they explain that he must give them every penny he has and he immediately begins to think they're extorting him. He is, afterall, a conman himself. After he realizes their story is true, he feels he has no other option but to trust them.

The story continues and these loansharks force Green to commit acts against Macha that inconvenience Macha and embarass him in front of an unseen evil force throughout the movie, Sam Gold. Basically, Green and the two loansharks con Macha and Macha's rival, Lord John, into thinking that they are being set up by one another, inevitably leading to the brutal destruction of most of their crews.

Macha later becomes aware that it had been Green all along. At the same time, Green finds out that Zack and Avi are the two men he had indirectly met during his seven year run in solitary confinement, the two men who had constructed an ingenius theory and formula for the perfect con. They then reveal to Green that his worst enemy was his own ego and that all of what was happening was a result of him trying to rid his own ego.

I don't want to go into much greater detail, so I'll refrain from doing so. I'll let you find out more by watching the film. The point I wish to stress is that, the first time I had watched the film, I was under the impression that it would be of the same formula which Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch were made from and that this film was just not constructed as well. The second time I watched the film, however, I watched it with Guy Ritchie's commentary and he reveals so much that I hadn't seen before. It was as if the real film was hidden behind another and, not only were the characters in the film being conned, but the audience viewing the film were, as well. I must admit that I still don't understand the film 100 %. I doubt I ever will. I do, however, have a much better understanding of the film now and it saddens me when I read reviews stating that the film is "pretentious". It just reminds me that many people discount merit-worthy art due to their own intellectual lackings.

This film is actually a first and last of its kind and, though I like a lot of what Ritchie has done, I was really surprised that he would be the creator of this genre. This film tells a great deal about the ego within everyone and how it can play as a person's worst possible enemy. It also is interesting knowing that the entire film is a metaphor for something so much greater than what its surface shows. Watching the journey of a man trying to defeat an enemy he can't see and then finding out it's in him the entire time is a wonderfully challenging psychological experience. It's okay to dislike this movie, but I would definitely recommend watching this film, keeping all of what I've mentioned in mind.