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Doch an den Fensterscheiben, wer malte die Blätter da?
Last night produced a particularly useless nightmare: being asked to see a pair of films with some (nonexistent; I seem to be back to that point in my dream-cycle) friends, but both of them were either directly about or referenced the case of a (similarly nonexistent, or at least so I assume) mass murderer in Boston who had poisoned children and then packed their bodies together so tightly that the bones started to crush into one another; there was a shot from one film that had been appearing in all the trailers, a constellation of phosphorous glowing beautifully in the dark until you realized that it was a mass of skeletons, not stars. This was really not what I wanted to dream about. And it hasn't sparked any sonnets or short stories, either. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
seajules has given me a prompt for "early fireworks," however, so I owe her something with fourteen lines before Friday.
My father and I cooked dinner tonight, mostly extrapolating from a Gourmet recipe for pork chops grilled with adobo—a Mexican spice paste made with paprika, oregano, cumin, chile de árbol, lime zest, garlic, and black pepper—and guacamole with tomatillos. They came out spectacularly well, meaning that there are not even leftovers. I was a lot more cheerful after that.
From a fortune cookie my mother opened tonight: "Tomorrow morning, take a left turn as soon as you leave home." This is the most concrete advice anyone in my family has ever seen from a fortune cookie, barring the one in Colorado that read, "You will be hungry soon. Order takeout now." Should we be worried?
seajules has given me a prompt for "early fireworks," however, so I owe her something with fourteen lines before Friday.My father and I cooked dinner tonight, mostly extrapolating from a Gourmet recipe for pork chops grilled with adobo—a Mexican spice paste made with paprika, oregano, cumin, chile de árbol, lime zest, garlic, and black pepper—and guacamole with tomatillos. They came out spectacularly well, meaning that there are not even leftovers. I was a lot more cheerful after that.
From a fortune cookie my mother opened tonight: "Tomorrow morning, take a left turn as soon as you leave home." This is the most concrete advice anyone in my family has ever seen from a fortune cookie, barring the one in Colorado that read, "You will be hungry soon. Order takeout now." Should we be worried?
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I'm glad you were cheered by the cookery.
Nine
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It was a much more traditionally horrific set of images than my dreams tend to yield; I remember
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You have fortune coookies with your mexican food?
Nine
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No; we had a fortune cookie from the last time we'd ordered Chinese. Or maybe it manifested that night in our kitchen, intending to be read.
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And ... I have to give snaps to whoever wrote that second fortune cookie. Sense of humor coupled with ruthless commercialism? Excellent.
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Then I'm glad these are worth reading for you. Although I don't feel that I can take much credit for them; they are whatever my brain gets up to in its spare time.
I have to give snaps to whoever wrote that second fortune cookie. Sense of humor coupled with ruthless commercialism? Excellent.
It remains my favorite fortune cookie in the world. I have a hard time believing anything is going to top it.
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I once got "You will be paid to travel the world with your lover." Still waiting for that one to pan out.
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Hmm. If your house faces east. Then I think the cookie may be warning you about a sudden acceleration in global warming.
That's a great dream you had. It's sort of beautifully sinister. Though our recent MST3k conversation has me wondering if your two nonexistent friends are Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot.
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It faces west, actually. Are we in for an ice age?
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My Magic 8-Ball says, "Yes." But my Magic 8-Ball tends to give whatever answer it thinks would cause the most mischief, so I say, "No."
Setsuled, the Great and Terrible, has spoken!
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Dinner sounds lovely. Glad it cheered you. (Had lovely tuna with wasabi and a pineapple salsa tonight, but didn't make it myself, so. Am staying with parents at a very rustic New Hampshire resort which, oddly yet most fortunately, has stunning food. And working wireless.)
The fortune cookie sounds fascinating. I don't know if it's wise to take such advice, but I've never seen one to say such a thing. The most unusual I've ever seen was "Perhaps someday you may live on the moon!" (Exclamation point and odd phrasing as close to exact as I can recollect.)
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That sounds like a great fortune!
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Rather. I like the conditionalness of it. I don't want to live on the Moon, unless it's like Alexander Jablokov's Carve the Sky and folk have been there long enough for it to stop being a hamster habitat, but I like the idea of the option being available.
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If it makes you feel better, the Danse Macabre is being difficult. I don't even have a start for that one yet.
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I love those books so much.
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Well, did you?
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Of course. It's the shortest route to Mass Ave.
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Left, cut through the park and walk around the Res until it meets up with the bike path, walk through the parking lot of Trader Joe's to Mass Ave!
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The glowing phosphorescence of the children's bones--this would make an interesting photography project, maybe. It also reminds me of an episode of "The X-Files" where Mulder goes into a type of limbo/underworld where children are singing and the light is a sort of grey white-hot sparkling mist...
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It had certainly struck the imaginary filmmaker . . .
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My father got that one years ago, and we all thought it was hysterical. You're the first person to mention the same one!
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I didn't know anyone else had ever gotten it! That's awesome. Where were you at the time?
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If that was my dream you got (since it sounds like something that a friend and nightmare afficcionado would send me from overseas) I do apologize, and I should have taken it. That sounds kind of cool.
Last night, my dreams involved anatomy dummies and revolved around the colors of flensed muscle, blood vessels and bone. I think I'll be making mine the vegetarian today.
*remembers he brought a salami sammich to work*
Damn.
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Feel free to come by and pick it up. I haven't been able yet to determine whether it was a one-shot or a recurrent, but I'd rather avoid the latter if at all possible.
(Your nightmare lost-and-found is awesome.)
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If I can... That would be a really dangerous power in my hands. I cannot be trusted not to misuse it.
Okay, so I tried in my early evening nap.
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I think you should totally use the lantern in Son to a Siren. Also, sailpunk is a perfect word.
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Your CO looked like Scorpius? Scary. I hope he didn't act quite like.
Fascinating dream. I have the odd dream that I'm in some sort of alternate universe military, but it's never the same one over again. I'm intrigued that folk like yourself and our distinguished hostess have dream-cycles.
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My first memory is of a dream in which a golden armored robot called the Scrambler came to get me. I was 3 (Coincidentally, that was 1978, when Star Wars came out, and, in the early years, he did kind of look the composite of Darth Vader and C 3P0). He tried to get me on an off for another 22 years.
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Sorry to hear.
My first memory is of a dream in which a golden armored robot called the Scrambler came to get me. I was 3 (Coincidentally, that was 1978, when Star Wars came out, and, in the early years, he did kind of look the composite of Darth Vader and C 3P0). He tried to get me on an off for another 22 years.
Darth Vader and C 3PO combined is a very scary thought.
I hope he continues to stay away.
It's funny how media can affect one's dreams, especially if one's a small child--one of the first dreams I remember was something to do with a monster that crackled with energy and forced me to shovel asphalt into potholes. The characters from Scooby Doo were there, and trying to rescue me, but I woke before they actually finished the job. Come to think of it, that was probably ca. 1978 as well.
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Some of the earliest dreams I can remember are nightmares. The one that haunted me for a long time was a man on the roof of a parking garage, melting down as though he were kneeling and slumping farther and farther into himself, like the wick-end of a candle, but his bones and his flesh were all one lasagna slur, stranded and sagging like elastic, sticky, bubbling on the asphalt: I did not want to fall back asleep. Another was not exactly a nightmare, but I dreamed that my hand had gotten crushed somehow, all my fingers mashed as thin as tissue paper, and two or three times I woke up and was still dreaming, each time holding my hand up against the streetlight to check that it was three-dimensional and whole again, and each time it was still a boneless shadow puppet, fingers flattened out to leaves. And for years I remembered another dream which has gone into the novella I'm working on, so I'll describe it later. (It involved sea-change, and was only a nightmare depending on your point of view.) But the worst dream from last night had no one dying, melting, or turning into phosphorescent bones: I dreamed of someone I had been missing for a long time, who stopped by to see me and bent down and kissed me and apologized for not being in touch, and then I had to wake up and remember none of that was true.
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I'm sorry, Sonya. I get a lot of dreams like that myself.
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---L.
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If you have a home for it, it's yours!
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I am curious!
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Done!
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