Hunger Games, Mind Games

You guys, I had a nightmare last night, and the plot of my nightmare was that I was chosen to be a tribute in the Hunger Games! Yes, so apparently these books are engrossing enough (and my brain gullible enough) that reading the second one for 2 hours before bed gave me my first bad dream in what must be 4 or 5 years.

If you do not know the plot of this series, basically in a post-apocalyptic (or something) world, there's this Capitol civilization that's all rich and shallow, and there are 12 neighboring Districts, which are poor and have shitty jobs and live in fear of the mean old Capitol's vengeance. They tried to revolt a number of years ago, so as punishment, the Capitol makes them send 2 teenagers apiece each year (12 x 2 = 24, you guys) to fight to the death in a televised match that's basically their Super Bowl. It's pretty brutal, and it makes for an awesome 1 2/3 books so far.

So anyway in my horrible dream I was chosen to fight, and since this wasn't one of my awesome Buffy dreams I still occasionally have, I was just gay old me. So before we all were to be taken to the arena, all the tributes and I were sitting outside chilling (as you do) and all I wanted to do was scream and yell and get them to band together and revolt, but nobody would listen to me. And then a big group of them started singing "Eye of the Tiger" to express how excited they were to start killing, and I was so terrified at what that song represented that I started screaming at them, but they sang over me and did hand motions, you guys it was the worst moment of my life!

When the song was over, though, I realized I couldn't remember who originally sang "Eye of the Tiger" so I forgot about my imminent death for a minute and asked the kid next to me, who said it was an old World War II song. That's when I realized that he came from a parallel universe where that was true. So that was pretty awesome.

Then I noticed Aziz Ansari sitting across from me, and I said "Oh no, they got you too?" But he explained that no, he was not chosen, but the Hunger Games pain him so much that every year he goes to the rally before the event and sits with the tributes to say goodbye. It was really touching. Thanks for being there for me, Aziz.

That's the end. Even though most of the dream was technically awesome on paper, it was all still terrifying, and I woke up scared and was grateful I got to snuggle up to C.C., who also does not know who sang "Eye of the Tiger".

The answer is Survivor.

Alien Invasion

Last night I had a very long, very vivid sex dream about the Matriarch Benezia.

In case you do not know how retarded this is, here is a picture of the Matriarch Benezia:

Yes. Not only is she totally old, but she is also a BLUE VIDEO GAME ALIEN CHICK DRESSED LIKE MALEFICENT who takes us back to 2005 to ask the question: "Whatcha gonna do with all that breast [by which I mean] all that breast inside that shirt?"

I do not know where to begin. I've had girl sex dreams before. I've even had a sci-fi sex dream before where I had my way with a space marine I held at (ray)gunpoint. But this conflagration of lame pervertedness is unacceptable, and I refuse to sit idly while my subconscious plays holodeck at the expense of my self-respect.

You may be wondering if I happened to play my space video games for infinity hours this weekend and the answer is "MAYBE!" but I also did supercool human being things like see an opera, learn choreography to a Spice Girls song, and eat like... three giant wedges of cheese. Yes, it is for these things that I pay New York real estate prices.

The point is, I am a happening dude who all the boys love -- you can find them in my yard near the milkshake machine (GO AWAY, 2005!) -- so I do not need to get my jollies (yuck) with evil, post-menopausal sorceresses... FROM SPACE! This is not a fantasy of mine, so you can all keep being my friend. I don't even know why I brought this up in the first place. In conclusion, the only alien chick I would sleep with is Isobel from Roswell and only if she made me, which she totally would.

In Dreams

Here I am!

I'm not really sure where I went this whole time, but now that I'm back I can report that nothing has changed.

Moving on, let's talk about my tenuous psychological well-being. My dreams are starting to make me crazy. This morning I woke up at 6 feeling fine except that I couldn't shake this really intense dream I was having and ended up laying in bed until 7:30 in a half-conscious state as this story played out in which I moved to an ocean-view house in Indianapolis (just north of the Bronx), met a tall gorgeous red-head at a bookstore who kissed me, invited me to a Halloween party, and got shorter and stockier before my eyes. I then got on the subway, missed my stop, and ended up in Arizona where I swore, inducing a woman to say "You know Deborah!" who is a coworker of mine.

Last weekend's nightmare involved getting my friend executed on child molestation charges and having to carry around his remains as a sign of my guilt only to have all my dearest friends leave me totally alone so my only companion for the rest of my days was a blood-stained box of ashes. I'm gonna go ahead and admit that I've been dealing with some stuff.

Anyway, does this happen to other people? Y'know, where you wake up and are aware of your surroundings, but your subconscious is hard at work so you can't return to reality and basically have to go back to sleep to let your dream finish itself? I was completely helpless this morning for an hour and a half as this went on, and I couldn't focus my thoughts enough to get myself out of bed.

This happens to me now and then. Not every day, but maybe one every few months.

The worst was this one experience I had in grad school. I woke up from a nap one day to go to class, and but there was this crazy thing in my head. It was this giant ball of dried, thorny vines just sort of hovering there. It was a product of my mind, probably the remnant of some weird dream, but even though I was awake, I couldn't move my body while it was there. All I could do was use my mind to untangle this ball, and I found little things hidden in it. A star. A tin soldier. A ball of yarn. It was so bizarre. As I untangled sections of it, they would disappear and it wasn't until all of them were gone that I snapped out of it and was able to move and get out of bed.

The whole experience really threw me, and every time something like this happens, I worry that there's something wrong with my brain. This morning was the longest I was ever kept under by a dream that needed to resolve itself.

I also know this isn't the result of tiredness because I slept for 8 hours uninterrupted last night, and I feel great and rested today. Anyway... is this a familiar experience to anyone? I'd really like to know I'm not the only person living in a Banana Yoshimoto novel.

Bi-Yearly Picture Posting

Someone was responsible enough to bring a camera, so I have New Year's pictures.

That's Mark, he's the coolest one out of all of us.

Highlights include Polish vodka with grass in it that tasted like apple pie as well as Luana's dress.

These took me so long to put up because I am obsessed with going into Photoshop and fixing the red eye and contrast and levels and colors. Can't you tell how good I am? I should work for Vogue. I only fix skin problems on myself though because I am vain and selfish except I didn't do too much of it this time because I also fixed up about 30 pictures from a couple nights at the Hotel Gansevoort, which I'll put up sometime later.

I posted that picture because I look pretty good in it.

Last night I had two dreams that I was Superman. Add that to my Smallville dream from Sunday night, bake for 40 minutes, and the result is I'm a total dork and you'd do well to sever all ties from me.

Let's put the laughter back in slaughter

Don't you hate it when people blog about their dreams like "Yeah, as if I care" right? It's like cat pictures and weight loss diaries. Keep it to yourself.

I hate it too. But too bad.

Last night I dreamt I was in high school gym class again. Some of my friends and I were all on the same team. The sport was Werewolf Hunting.

Actually, it was more like Don't Get Killed By The Werewolf Until The Bell Rings, similar to how real-life gym class feels to people like me.

So my team was finally able to surround our werewolf target, and that's when the dream turned all emo. As the only one with a weapon (a sharp rock I had found) it was up to me to do the creature in. But upon being surrounded, he got all scared and meek and pitiful, and that's when I remembered it was just a person with a problem he couldn't control. I felt so sad for him that I couldn't kill him.

So I gave the rock to this girl I went to school with, and she went to town on it. She was crazy! I mean she was tearing the animal apart like total gross out cover your daughter's eyes blood and fur and viscera salad! I didn't know my brain could imagine such violence and gore. Way to go brain!

But I wasn't cheering in the dream. No, I was emo, remember? I was crying for all the hurt and pain and cruelty in the world. That Poor Animal, Children Are Starving in Africa, My Mother Never Loved Me, Babies Having Babies! As if that's not horrible enough, I was crying blood. If there were some Rasputina playing, it would have been a scene straight out of a myspace profile.

Oh, and might I add it was all over my favorite white shirt. God knows why I wore that thing to gym class, but I do know that when I woke up, I was genuinely relieved that I had not really ruined it. I was glad my priorities were back in order.

Every now and then my brain plays games like this with me. It gives me a dream like that one or makes me feel all somber and introspective when I see a dead bird on the street. Like it wants me to become one of those kids in eyeliner and a spike bracelet writing poetry for a zine I put out for my friends (read: people whose screennames I can spell).

Well it won't work, brain! The Shah of Schadenfreude won't have it! I like animals and people enough, but I will always laugh at Strangers with Candy when they use the turtle for a hockey puck, and I will always laugh at the scene in Unbreakable where the crippled guy falls down the stairs. Always.

So this is your last warning, brain. If you don't cut the crap, you're totally off my Top 8.