Dream Log

10-15-14

I dreamed during a nap today about a motel that was possessed by demons of every shape and size, and I was apprenticed to an old being (a man I think, like a sorcerer, but not human?) who’d sent me to help fight them. I had a hard time finding it until a boy with lined eyes and dark hair talked with me in a parking lot; I had a very good talent for befriending and entrusting people who society had pushed aside. I think he was a drug addict? I’m not sure; but we were kind to each other.

The motel was on top of a hill, drab grey. The people living there didn’t know what was happening or that they were being possessed; the plane of magic and the plane of humans coexisted in a parallel state but invisible to normal people. I could ‘see’ both; the motel was arranged so that there was a large several-stories tall atrium in the middle, and in that middle was a massive dark creature oozing filth and discord. I moved through both planes but I don’t know which one I existed in—humans couldn’t see me and I couldn’t interact with them unless I really wanted to, I think. I don’t know if I was human or not.

Many of the rooms were long-term rentals; I had to find number 670 as the source of the ‘infection’. There were demons and foul creatures scurrying and lurking around in every room, and the motel itself was in a state of disrepair. People affected or possessed by the demons behaved strangely, locking themselves in their rooms and slowly killing themselves in various ways.

I had a familiar that was like a large golden mouse, very sardonic, who helped me read the rubbed-off numbers on doors. The demons affected how I saw and moved through the motel, making things blurry, indistinct, and out of order. Instead of the room directory being in white letters on a black board I saw it as delicate, faded ink handwriting on a peeling piece of parchment glued to the wall, disordered and haphazard. I had to walk around and around before I could see the true order of things.

In room 670 I found a woman mixing chemicals into shards of plastic, heaping it in poisonous piles, hiding them in closets and in vents. The fumes were partly physical and partly magical, I think, but harmful, acidic to the mind and body. She was a dead shell, operating mechanically, possessed more by fragments of other minds than of her own. I think I somehow got her out even though the plastic hurt me.

At the end of the dream I had to fight my way past the demon in the atrium; it knew its plan was foiled and it lashed out at everyone near it. I don’t remember how it ended, but I think the being I was apprenticed to arrived to help.

Night of 10-11-14

I dreamed that a swarm of bees covered my head and face until I gently shook them loose. None of them stung me.

(Source: bloodyrouge)

high resolution →

(Source: richardgaston)

Night of 9-27-14

creekdontrise:

I had a dream about a girl who jumped ship from the boat she was working on and hid in a little seaside community somewhere in the north where the water was cold and the trees were dark. She lived there alone somewhere by the sea, perhaps in a cave, and waited. The boat she’d run away from was sure to find her one day.

Sometimes she would look out at sea and see the giant sailing ships, as big as skyscrapers, anchored way off shore where the clouds brushed against their sails and their booms swung like the arms of god over the sea.

She grew acquainted with the old men who owned the one grocery store in the town, coming in now and then but never for too long, never giving her name. She asked one of them to keep something she’d stolen from her old ship, a fishing cooler, one day when she knew they would come looking for her. She left a note there for the man she’d stolen it from. He would be angry anyway.

The day the boat came she watched it dock from the crowded boardwalk. The woman who piloted it used to be her friend, but she didn’t dare say hello. She didn’t want them to see her; if they did, they would chase her. Especially the captain man.

I don’t know why she’d leapt ship, but I think she’d seen something in the sea that she wasn’t supposed to, or that he was angry that she’d seen. It had changed her somehow. When he found the note she left he sent one of the grocers after her.

She was faster than him, and cleverer, but he was stronger and wiser and when she took to the cold water he outswam her. I don’t know whether he let her go or not, because I woke up!


Gebhart de Koekkoek
high resolution →

Gebhart de Koekkoek

(Source: cerceos)

asylum-art:

What Lies Beneath the Surface  by Guy Sargent

These are the images of Guy Sargent. The “What lies beneath the surface” (What lies beneath the surface) series is a long series (we’re talking about almost a hundred images) inspired by the story européenne.La series begins on desert landscapes where presence of the human being is absent. Subsequently, we move on to building churches and cathedrals of medieval times, and images that reminds us of the two major wars eventually end up in the contemporary city with modern architecture. “What lies beneath the surface” is an ongoing project started in 2006, it is possible that the final form of the series is altered. Maybe pictures will be added or removed. This is a major project with a variety of images, atmospheres and topics that are worth that you mention.

(Source: algoll)

Night of 9-24-14

I dreamed about a man who lived in the frozen north with his little sister, studying strange beings who lived below the ice. One of them was just a giant pair of hands, clear as water and invisible in the sea, that would come out of the cracks in the ice and kidnap people; sometimes they came back, most of the time they didn’t.

He had taken his sister with him to research out on the ice when the being emerged and took her underwater. He begged with them to take him instead, or at least along with her, because he couldn’t bear the guilt and she shouldn’t be alone. They obliged.

Deep deep in the sea they squeezed the air out of his lungs and replaced it with water, but he didn’t drown, was only cold deep in his bones. The dream ended with a searing split of light, impossible in the black abyss.