storyrainthejournal: (in dreams)
A city built all of wood, huge Venice-esque manses of it, along waterways with open colonades, wood wood wood. I'm a guy, a kind of magus. I have this little sphere that holds a female essence/spirit, not imprisoned, she's perfectly happy, the sphere is more or less her natural state. When around people it likes, it shows lucid and filled with ever-morphing blossoms, like a living millifiore paperweight. When needed, for attack or defence of some kind, the sphere fills with lightnings, pulsing and buzzing in my hand with dark, baleful colors.

I take the sphere with me to go to a long-deserted manse along a quiet part of waterway; this was my childhood home, but there's a malevolent spirit living there now. Putting the sphere, now in an agitated state, up against the door lock , it breaks it. Inside the place is large, palatial, empty-seeming.

There's a break and I'm no longer the magus, but me, holding a little girl close, both of us wrapped in a blanket; a couple other of our company are in the house, too; we're all staying out of the way, leaving the large wooden hall clear as the magus paces, telling story, on the railed walk ringing the open space. The little girl and I are in a closet, watching him. As the story draws to a close, the magus suddenly changes appearance, appearing briefly with dark purple hair and white-pale face, tricked out like a punk-shaman witch doctor in hardened leather mail; then he aims his staff right at us, it seems, but really at a cupboard built into the back of the closet behind us. I tumble the little girl and myself out in a roll of blanket and limbs, the magus tumbling just after us with a large ceramic head that was hiding in the cupboard. It's like a doll's head, but larger than a real adult head, with a strong-featured woman's face. As I see it lying there in the tangle of blanket and us, I know it's the malevolent spirit. The magus stomps on it with a booted foot and light explodes from it, rolling away in little pearls. We all chase after them, rolling them all back together for the magus to dispatch.

dreamage

Nov. 29th, 2006 08:22 am
storyrainthejournal: (in dreams)
Zombie-fying parasites put in water by one faction of an alien race; don't eat the ice! much harrowing adventure and narrow escapage ensues; large portion of the population decimated--especially anyone who munched their ice or lived in a sorority, frat house or dorm. Eventually, other faction of aliens relieve the rest of us of our daily danger by killing off the parasites.

Woke amused.

sundry

Apr. 20th, 2006 02:07 pm
storyrainthejournal: (stormbrewing)
Now that it's all destroyed because we (the developers and our minions) failed to listen to you pesky scientists before, we can consider rebuilding with some concessions to ecological concerns.

feh.

Dreamed last night that I was dreaming and in the dream within the dream I dreamt that my mother died. According to various dream interpretation (and to my own feeling for it and what's going on with me lately), this means I'm having strong emotional stuff that I'm not really dealing with and it's about not feeling nurtured enough in my life.

A little stalled on both writing projects, but moving along.

Record heat brings much violent stormage. Hail the size of baseballs in places, apparently.

Events tonight and tomorrow in my lofts, a jewelry salon, whatever that is, and neighbor B's birthday party.
storyrainthejournal: (Default)
A mini-blizzard driven before a huge double decker tour bus. I jumped a ride on the blizzard as you might a wave, running before it on a night-time country road and then catching it and flying on it all the way back up to the huge cliff house were I was staying with a big crew of peeps. Fun.

A cake modeled after the cliff, the cake an unevenly layered chocolate thing with marzipan sugar trees, windswept oaks and junipers, anchoring the rocky clliff layers.
storyrainthejournal: (dreamcatmoon)
Dreamt I was with House (from the television show) and he had a puppy and one of his neighbors said the puppy had gotten into her bathroom and been drinking some kind of noxious blue chemical stuff; I was so worried for the puppy I went to sit in the all and sobbed, then House came out with the puppy and showed me it was okay--he was all cocky and sarcastic, but nice underneath, not House-like at all. Then we were working on something and Howard W called me and was very angry with me because I’d forgotten to go to his Wednesday morning class, which was a workshop class, and because that meant I hadn’t been writing fast enough and didn’t have my new story done.

On a side note, that’s the third time in the last week I’ve sobbed my heart out in a dream, all in different circumstances; I didn’t wake up upset from any of them, but I was certainly distraught in the dream.

***

The job lead is just a lead right now; I’m not sure it’s a job I even want, because it’s more hours than I want, but the woman who’s the contact for it is a contact for other writing jobs, as they might come up, and I’m going to meet her on Monday morning (if I can find a do-able bus route). (thanks for the intro [livejournal.com profile] stinabat!)

I miss my cats a lot and am glad to be homeward bound, sitting in the Chicago airport on a looooong layover.
storyrainthejournal: (ed&einbiking)
Watched a 2003 Bertolucci film last night, The Dreamers and pretty much enjoyed it thoroughly. I am a peeg.

Also watched Hustle, a BBC production being shown on AMC, which is a lot of fun.

Somebody rang my doorbell at 3am; I suspect a neighbor, since whoever it was was let in before I even made it to the intercom, and then I heard steps clomping up the stairs and a door closing. hmmph.

Early morning dream snippet: running onto a beach with a storm coming in, but the sun shining; cool, gentle rain falling in the heat and bands of rainbow coming over the ocean, which is running with very high waves; the first band of rainbow falls over me with the rain, lucent colors washing down one after another.
storyrainthejournal: (deepwood)
Rain all gone; disgustingly sunny out. Supposed to get up to 79 f today. I ask you, is this any way to run a winter?

Happily back at work in the fiction fields, back to revising for the moment, but soon to move on to new stuff, I'm thinking.

Interesting dreams last night, with two gender morphing female to male superheros, a Robin whose new outfit was red plaid boxers, a white t-shirt, and big platform boots, plus some other assorted superhero types, bad guys in roving packs, and some fun naked action.

I think my brain is happy.
storyrainthejournal: (dreamcatmoon)
In the dreaming, am traveling with friends...one cold early morning, before dawn, we walk, then run, up a Maine country road in the dark, as though pacing the ocean stretching just barely seen to the right. It gets lighter and we (we is now Alyx and Kelly and me) hang out on this dune-y little beach with lots of other people, talking to a couple about this and that. I observe that a small stand of cherry trees are in blossom and opine that cherry trees in bloom in Maine in January is a very bad thing indeed. A little after that I woke, saying 'I don't want to be alone again.'

The run along the road in the cold early dark of the dream was really lovely, however.
storyrainthejournal: (Default)
Two interesting dreambits, one tangenting off the other in the course of the dreaming, without editing for coherence...

...if you betrayed them, you'd be shot with a bluetooth injection and turned into a free viewing monitor for anyone who needed one...

this learned in a skirmish, part of a larger war, taking place in the midst of a beautiful landscape of high, rolling green hills going to a stand of forest with a patch of vivid crimson, flame pink, and other deep, candy colored trees in it, a long stormy sky above and the sound of a steam train near by; I run inside the old house, the porch of which I've been watching the skirmish from, to get my camera, but coming out I realize I was dreaming/watching the gorgeous landscape in one of those people-monitors. I decide to hold up the camera, close my eyes and imagine the landscape intently, then take the picture, to see if I can capture it that way...

dream bit

Dec. 1st, 2005 11:38 am
storyrainthejournal: (Default)
Out in a big wild park with a couple of other people and we find a huge wall of natural rock formations over which a very wide waterfall pours gently; the natural formations have been augmented into faux ancient ruins and staircases and little pools for the water to collect in so it's this huge play-friendly water feature out in the wilds and I make a mental note to remember how we found it so as to bring [livejournal.com profile] planetalyx and [livejournal.com profile] kelly_yoyo when next they visit.
storyrainthejournal: (dreamcatmoon)
Dreamed of saving two lives, one after the other, through the writing of a prayer on a poster that had somehow been blessed; while doing the writing/incantation, it began to rain, rain coming through the window of the apartment where I and the woman who lived there were doing the saving. This was a good sign, the rain. The second of the rescues also involved rose petals and a bath and some tiny white tiger cubs (as in miniature tiger cubs), and a trek through an orchard. All very mixed up but somatically vivid.

There was also some boring stuff about how the woman whose apartment it was had had her basement/garage converted into a laundry room.

I do really really wish it would rain.

dreambit

Oct. 21st, 2005 07:49 am
storyrainthejournal: (dreamcatmoon)
This is of the grue, so slight warning.

In the course of a dream featuring all sorts of doomsday craziness, one little detail stood out, very appropriate to the season. One of the doomsday events was a flash freeze in parts of the city; one of my group (we were mostly hiding in a house) had gone out and collected a kind of evidence book. Like an artist's portfolio, only in each plastic sleeve were bits of frozen skin from people, pieces that had broken off in the extreme flash freeze. In one sleeve were some faces, one of them of a man who'd been shot in the head just before the freeze; the bullet wound, as nothing else, was still alive, pulsing slightly.

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