LickTheStar
Sad Flower in the Sand
Huh, my friends always told me it was the hangover from being so drunk... Maybe it WAS the roofies...
That Dream You Had Last Night.
- Thread starter Hosh
- Start date
Hosh
hoshomccreesh.com
This might send the thread hurtling out of control, but here goes: I had a fairly distrubing dream about a week ago wherein this new dance-craze-kind-of-assault thing called "buttfusion" was sweeping the nation. "What's "buttfusion," you ask? It's a kind of stealth attack, surprise congo line thing. Seems harmless, right? WRONG! What would soon come to be this forboding, haunting German-techno kind of music is what tipped the viewer off that "buttfusion" was happening...somewhere nearby. At first it seemed really funny...<the rise of a throbbing baseline>, then this chanting, building from a whisper--"Buttfusion, Buttfusion!....Buttfusion, Buttfusion!..." Then a ravenous, leathery sex horde would emerge from an alleyway, or from under some quicksand (I know, I know--it's getting crazy)...and it was only then that I realized if they grabbed you, you were "fused" by the horde (against your will)...and it shifted from whimsy to terror--like when those hot ghostly spirits turned to skull-faced murderesses who melted Nazi faces in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
I woke up laughing...but only because it was utterly terrifying.
And I was glad to be alive.
And un-fused.
Ok, now that I've typed it out, I guess it's pretty clear I need a shrink.
I woke up laughing...but only because it was utterly terrifying.
And I was glad to be alive.
And un-fused.
Ok, now that I've typed it out, I guess it's pretty clear I need a shrink.
mjp
Founding member
If that's your story, okay.
Hosh, was it something like this?
bospress.net
www.bospress.net
i got your title here. All you need to do it write the haiku to go with it...
poem written upon waking up laughing
from a nightmare of being forcibly buttfused
by a gang of leather clad german techo dancers...
poem written upon waking up laughing
from a nightmare of being forcibly buttfused
by a gang of leather clad german techo dancers...
Gerard K H Love
Appreciate your friends
I had a dream last Friday night that mjp was murdered by a disgruntled troll on the side of the street in a quiet suburban neighborhood. It had me filled with the tension and stress of being around a violent altercation. Some of the people around the incident didn't seem to be surprised it had happened and almost seemed too calm about it. The uneasy feeling of the dream hung on me for a couple of days. It was almost like post traumatic stress syndrome. Those fucking trolls, and they were heroin addicts too. I didn't notice if I had my butt fused nor do I remember any creepy German guys but it was a creepy dream.
Rekrab
Usually wrong.
I dreamed somebody found on-line the art I've done for Death At The Flea Circus, the Bureau Edition, and they copied it using watercolors, all run together like a continuous comic strip on big sheets of watercolor paper. I bought it on eBay. The images were mine but the drawing wasn't, and my oil paintings on canvas were now watercolors, smaller in size, the parakeets and rusty gun mixed in with the Daffy Duck UFO drawings. I thought, "Well this is obviously a rip-off, but someone must have been pretty desperate to steal my art." I wasn't angry about it.
I've had a few dreams where I was using the Internet and it was evil, like a speedy drug rush, and something to be avoided. Speaking of which, for some reason I never mention computers in my fiction. I'm mentioned them a few times in poems.
number6horse
okyoutwopixiesoutyougo
Aww dude.... Were you exposed to any previews or descriptions of the movie The Human Centipede ?
Maybe you had a subconscious reaction to them ?
Rekrab
Usually wrong.
Last night I dreamed the manicurist labor market was badly over saturated, hundreds of manicurists were lined up everywhere I went. The competition had become very severe among manicurists. No longer could they get away with just doing a customer's nails. Now they had to become the customer's confidant, trusted adviser, guru. I was listening to a manicurist leader making a speech to a group of manicurists as they all worked away, filing nails, buffing nails, painting them with polish.
No, I don't have my nails done. I have no interest in manicures. Strange dream.
No, I don't have my nails done. I have no interest in manicures. Strange dream.
zobraks
Moderator
My dream with Bukowski in it
It was in the 1980's in my home town. Charles Bukowski came to a visit (don't ask me why, apparently we were friends) and we (me and my friends/relatives I guess) made a cocktail party to welcome him. The room was big (at first I thought it was in my old apartment, but no room is that big) and all over the walls there were paintings with Buk on them. The most interesting was a huge painting done in a manner of the baroque ceiling paintings, with lot of cherubs in the cloudy sky who all had Buk's head (?!?).
Henry Charles stood there sipping his drink and grinning and I came over and told him, "Man, all these faces... Don't you get sick of them?"
Some time later we were in the street and I was carrying Buk (who was pretty much intoxicated by then) over my shoulder (his face looking back). It's not that I was that strong to carry him, he simply was weightless in some inexplicable way.
We were going down the street and on the facade of one of the buildings was a huge mural depicting a bunch of Disney characters (engaged in some kind of a fight, if I remember correctly). I looked at it and I told Buk that I had to confess I always had liked Disney and his characters (OK, Mickey Mouse was soulless (in Hank's opinion), but I preferred neurotic Donald anyway). He just gave me a strange kind of look and said nothing.
It was getting dark.
Further down the street we passed by a rambling TV crew and I noticed that one of the members of the gang spotted Buk.
They marched behind us. All of a sudden the camera lights turned on.
Reporter: Good evening, sir. Isn't that Bukowski?
Me: Ahahaha, nice one. That's my grandfather. He's from Malča (pronounced Mull-cha, a village near my home town, famous for its wine production).
By that time I got too aware that I was dreaming and starting to consciously fabricate the story to proceed.
I was fully awake and I missed Buk.
P.S. I dreamed this last night, wanted to make a new thread, but Google brought me here.
P.P.S. I was intending to tell the TV crew a story about my "grandfather" (Buk) emigrating to the States as a child and spending most of his life in California (dark) wine cellars tasting wines as a professional, hence having slit eyes and a bulbous nose, but I guess that was me awake, making things up.
P.P.P.S. Excuse my English.
It was in the 1980's in my home town. Charles Bukowski came to a visit (don't ask me why, apparently we were friends) and we (me and my friends/relatives I guess) made a cocktail party to welcome him. The room was big (at first I thought it was in my old apartment, but no room is that big) and all over the walls there were paintings with Buk on them. The most interesting was a huge painting done in a manner of the baroque ceiling paintings, with lot of cherubs in the cloudy sky who all had Buk's head (?!?).
Henry Charles stood there sipping his drink and grinning and I came over and told him, "Man, all these faces... Don't you get sick of them?"
Some time later we were in the street and I was carrying Buk (who was pretty much intoxicated by then) over my shoulder (his face looking back). It's not that I was that strong to carry him, he simply was weightless in some inexplicable way.
We were going down the street and on the facade of one of the buildings was a huge mural depicting a bunch of Disney characters (engaged in some kind of a fight, if I remember correctly). I looked at it and I told Buk that I had to confess I always had liked Disney and his characters (OK, Mickey Mouse was soulless (in Hank's opinion), but I preferred neurotic Donald anyway). He just gave me a strange kind of look and said nothing.
It was getting dark.
Further down the street we passed by a rambling TV crew and I noticed that one of the members of the gang spotted Buk.
They marched behind us. All of a sudden the camera lights turned on.
Reporter: Good evening, sir. Isn't that Bukowski?
Me: Ahahaha, nice one. That's my grandfather. He's from Malča (pronounced Mull-cha, a village near my home town, famous for its wine production).
By that time I got too aware that I was dreaming and starting to consciously fabricate the story to proceed.
I was fully awake and I missed Buk.
P.S. I dreamed this last night, wanted to make a new thread, but Google brought me here.
P.P.S. I was intending to tell the TV crew a story about my "grandfather" (Buk) emigrating to the States as a child and spending most of his life in California (dark) wine cellars tasting wines as a professional, hence having slit eyes and a bulbous nose, but I guess that was me awake, making things up.
P.P.P.S. Excuse my English.
LickTheStar
Sad Flower in the Sand
Most of my dreams are of me having sex with co-workers.
Which is why I don't tell my wife my dreams any more.
Which is why I don't tell my wife my dreams any more.
PhillyDave
“The essential doesn't change.” Beckett
I had too much to dream last night.
number6horse
okyoutwopixiesoutyougo
I almost always dream in black & white. I'm wondering if that's because my earliest exposure to TV was that way too, I don't know. Does anyone else dream mostly in color ?
I think I dream in colour, i.e. I think I would have noticed if I didn't. However, I did read something recently about a certain small percentage of people dreaming in black and white. I couldn't remember the figures or where I'd read it (probably some page I found via StumbleUpon or something like that). Anyway, I googled it looking for the article and I found this: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/...ite-TV-generation-have-monochrome-dreams.html
Ever had one where you wake up and look over to your woman (or guy) and they wake up as well and then begin to morph into a rabid monster, only to wake up again, look over to your gal still with that nightmare fresh in your mind, only to have the same scenario occur again? and again? and again? By the time I really did wake up and look over at her - it took a while to realise that I truly was awake this time. Hard one to explain to the missus.
Now to be all analytical about it, it was clearly my subconscious telling me to stop coming back to this she-beast, which I did repeatedly for 3 years. Note to self - pay more attention to bad dreams about people in your life...
Now to be all analytical about it, it was clearly my subconscious telling me to stop coming back to this she-beast, which I did repeatedly for 3 years. Note to self - pay more attention to bad dreams about people in your life...