So uhm. Here's a tidbit for all of you who partake in enjoyment at my expense. Monday morning, first day of class, my phisics professor, bilingual German, asks the class to write down 1 question for him and turn it in so he could go through them all and answer in turn. "What does weiber schizen mean?" It was a cool sounding word that I heard a long time ago & I honestly didn't know. Well the teacher glanced over my question, made a sharp look of annoyance, then moved on to the next. So I just now google imaged it.... wow. I've got some explaining to do.

I should wonder why this stuff keeps happening to me, but I know better.

.. Like it was a nightclub. It's permanently disco. Everyone is dressed so oddly, I can't recognise them, I can't tell the staff from the customers. Baby check this out, I got something to say... Man it's so loud in here! When they stop the drum machine and I can think again.. I'll remember what it was.

 

You have to carry all your things... you can't misplace them, there's nowhere to place anything.

 

Baby check this out, I've got something to say: Man it's so loud in here. When they stop the drum machine and I can think again, I'll remember what it was.

 

They were shouting something at us, waving and pointing.

 

They revamped the airport completely, now it looks just like a nightclub. Everyone is excited and confused.

 

Baby check this out I've got something to say, man it's so loud in here. When they stop the love machine and I can love again, I'll remember what it was.

 

A woman came up to me and said I'd like to poison your mind- with wrong ideas that appeal to you but I am not unkind. She looked at me, I looked at something written across her scalp... and these are the words that it feintly said as I tried to call for help:

 

"There's only one thing that I know how to do well, and I've often been told that you only can do what you know how to do well and that's be you, be what your like, be like yourself, and so I'm having a wonderful time but I'd rather be whistling in the dark."

 

A man came up to me and said I'd like to change your mind... by hitting it with a rock he said, though I am not unkind. We laughed at his little joke and then I happily walked away, and hit my head on the wall of the jail where the two of us lived today.

 

"There's only one thing that I know how to do well, and I've often been told that you only can do what you know how to do well and that's be you, be what your like, be like yourself, and so I'm having a wonderful time but I'd rather be whistling in the dark."

 

This is where the party ends. I can't stand here listening to you, and your racist friend. I know politics bore you, but I feel like a hypocrite talking to you, and your racist friend.

 

It was the loveliest party that I've ever attended. If anything was broken I'm sure it could be mended. My head can't tolerate this violence and pretending... listening to some bullet head and the madness that he's spreading.

 

This is where the party ends. I just sit here wondering how you could stand by your racist friend. I know politics bore you, but I feel like a hypocrite talking to you... you and your racist friend.

*cartwheels*

AYEYAAYYAYYYAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!

A couple of rather intense ones early this morning.

First I was in a large summer home some place I didn't know where, or how I got there. I remember huge windows in view of a beautiful landscape on the far outskirts of a city with forests, a gravel road, and a lake. A lot of people were there with me; it was a get together of some sort. Many friends, family, aquaintences, their kids, and some people that I did not recognize were all around; not celebrating anything in particular, just having fun for no reason at all.

All of the sudden the clouds thickened and the skies grew dark, almost as dark as night. Howling winds, rain and hail, and lightning cracked. Then the earth started shaking and pictures fell from the walls. My friends were all quite frightened of course. I hearded as many as I could towards the basement, and we huddled at the bottom of the stairs in view of a large window and watched the storm in complete awe. Small twisters skittered in the yard and on the roof, tearing branches and ripping shingles. Then, as quickly as the storm appeared, it was gone. The rumbling ceased, and we began cleaning up. The damage was very minimal, and no one was injured. In fact some of them were laughing at each other for freaking out over an F1 tornado and a 3.0 earthquake.


I woke up, reset my alarm, and went back into another dream. This time I was on a beach, and the tide was coming in- incredibly fast; chasing me in fact. I sprinted to higher ground, and soon I was scrambling up a 45 degree muddy slope to escape the rushing waters. It just didn't stop; the ocean continued to rise and rise and rise, faster than I could climb. The water lifted me up off my feet, and deposited me another 30 or so feet higher near the top of the slope. I turned around around to look, and the ocean was retreating back down as fast as it came up- like a flushed toilet. I then gathered myself and scrambled to the top. I ran around to a cliffside perch to watch in awe at the ocean beginning to rise again. I could see down below a large wooden boat rising with the ocean to meet me at my high perch. Peering closer I could faintly see a few men on the boat. They were shouting and waving at to me to jump, so I did. As I fell, the ocean rose to catch me, granting me just enough time to scramble onto the boat before the falling waters flushed us out to sea.

In the sport of destructive, heavily biased debate, I have some questions for my favorate community about open relationships, three way marriage and well ... swinging. It seems to have grown in popularity since the sixties. I estimate about 20% of the people on this website are all for it. What about you? I'm just wondering, if in another 20 years or so, this number climbs to around 45%, and polygamy in effect becomes a culture and a 'solution' to our high devorce rate. In another 80 years, these revolutionary cultures will have great grandkids. How will these great grandkids know who their siblings & cousins are? Are we sure we want to turn this page? Not trying to be disrespecful of either side; I really am curious.

This horse has been beaten dead I know, but I'd like to take a few swings at it just to be sure. I love the chaos! Thanks for reading, and flame on!

I look at all the lonely people.
I look at all the lonely people.

Ella Marigby
Picks up the rice in the church where her wedding has been;
Lives in a dream.
Waits at the window,
Wearing a face that she keeps in a jar by the door.
Who is it for?
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

Father MacKenzie
Writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear;
No one comes near.
Look at him working,
Nodding his socks in the night when there's nobody there.
What does he care?
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

I look at all the lonely people.
I look at all the lonely people.

Ella Marigby
Died in the church and was buried alone with her name.
Nobody came.
Father MacKenzie
Wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from her grave.
No one was saved.
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzzN4hvHXho
Beatles, written long before I was born

Crazy ass dream this morning. I was in a dungeon in some other country; the kind of place that a government sends political enemies and people they're simply embarrassed of. The kind of place people are sent to be interrogated and/or tortured more discretely. I was cuffed and escourted by two men and it didn't look like I had any chance of escaping. I wasn't really afraid though; there wasn't a lot they could do to me. I had a lot of friends on the surface who wouldn't let them get away with killing me or hurting me, so I figured these were merely scare tactics. Besides, all I did was take their patrol boat out for a little spin; I brought it right back.

The two guards escourted me to the end of the hallway where upon we entered the showering / de lousing area. I could hear a lot of screaming from inside this room. "I guess some people really don't like cold water," I joked to the guards. They laughed but said not a word. We passed by several stalls where prisoners lay chained to the wall, shivering in the rain and paralysed with fear. The guards brought me to a *very* large uniformed man. He was a bald white guy, standing about 7 feet tall and he was all muscle. It looked like he was just washing up from his last custumer, too. "Ah, right on time," he said. As I approached he turned around, drying his hands on his uniform. Remarkably, the man smiled at me as if I were his best friend, and reached down to shake my hand. "Rick, right?" I just grinned back and grasped his hand. "Yeah, this is the one," The guards behind me replied. "Give him your usual treatment..." The guards just released me and left. The large man gently put his hand on my shoulder. "Hi buddy. Call me *something, can't remember*. How are you today?" I was tired of playing. "What are you going to do?" I blurted, trying not to show any fear. "Oh I'm just going to cut you up a little bit, but don't worry," he said. "I'm a very skilled artist. It doesn't hurt very much, and you'll live." He showed me his scalpel, and I started to shake. "Now listen very carefully. It is very important that you hold VERY still. The blade is very sharp, and if you freak out and start thrashing around, there is no telling what might happen." "Oh alright.." I said coyly. I'm not going to let this guy cut me up, I thought. As soon as I get an opening, I'm going to force my thumb against his windpipe, take his weapon, and fight my way to the exit. "Here, let me get these for you." The man lifted my cuffs, gently, unlocking them with a snap. "Lets get these behind you so you're more comfortable." He then locked my arms behind my back. "I'll show you to your room." Before I could react, he stuck a syrenge between my shoulder blades. I didn't twitch. As we we walked towards what I correctly assumed to be my shower stall, I asked him what he stuck me with. "Oh, its just a muscle relaxer. You seem like a nice guy and I don't want you to do anything crazy and end up getting hurt." Escape, hah. Well, there goes that idea, I thought."Yeah, its working pretty fast. I can't feel my arms." "Well I'm mostly going to be working on your face and on your back, he retorted. Lucky you."

I'm not going to explain every gory detail of what happend inside that stall. The surgical scalpel he used was sharper than a razor. I felt very little pain as he wisked his designs on my forhead, back, and chest. He knew where every vein and artery was, and if I had shaken or flinched even a little bit, the blade would have slashed a spot that would make me bleed to death. He did not so much as cut off my ears; I remember begging and pleading him not to do that. He slit all around them, leaving just enough flesh intact that my ears would not fall off. They were both sagging a little bit and soon I could not hear very well because my ears had clogged up with blood. The bloody designs all over my body were all very bazaar; the cuts sparing only my last layer of skin. "Wow," The man shouted. You did a very good job. This might be my best work yet. Look at how pretty you are." He held a mirror so that I could see. "You are free to go." He quickly unlocked my cuffs. On his way out, the man turned on the shower. I just sat there alone for awhile, watching my own blood slowly go down the drain, holding my ears into place with my fingers. The water stung but it was clean and cleansing. Naturally I was afraid, but I could still think rationally. I look like a freak, but I can still walk out of here, I thought. I need a doctor, and a passport. I don't think its in my best interest to raise a big fuss if these people are capable of this.

Snowboarding + Rick. Never thought this would happen.

It has been ludicrously difficult learning from scratch! Level one is getting the friggen boots on & off without looking like a dumdum. Little kids will be doing this in ten seconds. Then you have to stand upright on the board without immediately losing balance and falling face or ass first. Belive it or not, this is half the battle; especially if you're not very flexible and somewhat out of shape.

I will say that once you got that down you learn fast from there. I may chicken out and/or lose balance at moderate speeds, and I can't yet stop myself or slow down without giving myself an anema; but I'm getting more confident. It'll be easier to stay balanced and think above the stem of my brain with more practice. Good times!

Lessons learned:

1. Plan on spending $100 - $150 for rentals, tickets & food, per head... realistically.

2. Travell light. Dress to stay dry & cool, not bulky & warm. Snowboarding is an intense workout, especially when you're new and do everything the hard way.

Omg I'm tired & beat up. Later mooks.

This dream takes place in a warped version of my grandpa's old house. It was much, much larger- like mansion sized, and five stores tall. I'm in a section of this house where all flooring was torn out; so from the staircase leading to the basement, you could see high up past the bulging rings where the mansion's many layers used to be. The cabinets, sinks, drawers, countertops, and desks were all intact on the top floor- fixed securely to the wall; hanging openly above the exposed, cobwebby emptiness surrounding them. Any sane person would feel like this was straight out of the Twilight Zone. There was something important up there that my dad had to get, so up there was where we had to climb.

The two of us manhandled an incredibly large 'A' ladder into place. We left it in the callapsed position, anchored it, and leaned the ladder against our target high above. I followed him so that I could more easily watch for trouble.

The climb itself was a little scary and I tried not to look down. The farther up we climbed, the more the alluminum ladder jerked and wobbled. When we reached the top, he crawled to the right to get whatever it was that he was after, and I crawled to the left- just to look around. The hard surfaces hurt my knees and some spots were less secure than others, so I had to be careful. As I crawled over the dusty desks, dressers, and sinks, I noticed they were all remarkably cluttered as if someone had recently used these things. Whoever tore up the flooring had left this all as it were. There was a pair of fancy women's underwear half soaked in the sink which I if course held up to my dad for some laughs, and the water still ran when I turned on the spickets. Then I layed down on my belly to go through each bottom droor, straining to reach. While searching through I discovered pictures, cloths, toys and things- recklassly discarded memories that had no meaning to me, personally. "Found it!" I exclaimed; a package with a half dozen or so movie tickets. When I turned around crawl back to the ladder, my eyes gazed down to the bazaare and horrifying 60-foot drop down into the basement. There were people down there gazing up at me and they seemed very tiny from my high up perch.

It was a much more difficult crawl back to the ladder now that my stomach was in knots from my increaced fear of falling, and my hands were shaking like crazy. When I looked to the right where my dad was, I could see a monsterous pyramid of boxes, crates, and scrap wood, stacked all the way to the edge of his side; a possible alternate escape, although it looked very flimsy. He rolled over to plant his feet back onto the ladder, then slowly made his way down. I was fairly in awe at how casuall this was for him.

(will add more later)

This morning I dreampt that I had joined the Marine Corps and it was my third or so week of Training. My lieutenant was touring us through our bunker and it was my understanding that we were testing out new body armor technology but I later learned to ... extreme shock that I had no idea what I was getting into. We passed through many hallways, offices, then the medical center, and this area was chaotic. Men and women were being hauled in on stretchers- some alive, some dead, and others with missing extremeties. The lieutenant was obviously stressed but he remained unusually calm & collected, so I, thinking this was all part of the exercise, keenly walked forward.

We stepped outside large steel doors to the deafaning pops of explosions and rifle fire. It was too bright to see anything at first, but when I came to I was in view of a hilly landscape at a forest's edge. American soldiers were firing live rounds at another team of American soldiers in their new Mark (something) combat armor. I remember gasping at the sight of three people dying instantly after being nailed in the weak spots of their armor after a spray of automatic fire. The bodies and wounded were hauled away & the fighting continued like it was the real thing.

It seemed I was the only one who thought it was the twilight zone. I ran back inside the bunker, unnoticed. Squads of soldiers were repairing their armor, resting, and doing final checks on their gear. I moved quickly back to what I hoped might be the sanest part of the bunker- the medical center, trying frantically to find someone who wasn't doped up on stims that I could level with.

One female surgen fumbled through tags & papers in a depressed daze. I asked her how an honorable man was supposed to fire live rounds at friendlies. She gave me a plain look but I can't remember what she replied. A large, bald, muscular general grabbed me and spun me around, demanding to know why I wasn't out in the field with my men. I saluted the general & resigned, blurting out that I can't shoot at my friends, everyone is crazy, etc. On the spot, the general whipped out his pistol and shot my armor five times in the chest, point blank. It felt like a strong man punched my bones everywhere the bullets landed & I actually felt pain, but there was zero penatration. "This armor makes a man virtually invincible," he directed. "There is an acceptable level of risk, as the only fatal openings are the neck & the face, and we don't shoot there." I tried to explain that in airsoft games you're not supposed to shoot the face but it just happens all the time, and in retort the general grabbed an M1 garand from a nearby infantry (huge bullet) and fired it at another soldier 100 feet away. The soldier whelped in pain but he was not stopped.

Early this morning I had two very powerful dreams.

In the first one, I was buying a house from my friend's brother, Adam , in Skyline (the house does not actually exist). Most of his belongings were gone and removed, but I noticed he kept going in there for something and he was being very secretive about it. So me and Brian searched through the attic and we found a hidden crawlspace. Inside we were surprised to find pornographic magazines and sandwitch bags filled with what looked like clumpy sugar. I took one of the bags and put it under my coat.

Later that night the three of us were driving around and for fun I pulled out one of the bags. "Whats this stuff?" I asked Adam. "Sugar." His reply was quick, and nervous. I know how to get him.. I thought. So I foolishly began eating the clumpy sugar. "That's Meth...." He said, panicky and concerned. I immediately spit as much as I could out the window. "How much of this do I have to eat to get high?" I asked, freaking out. "One or two rocks." "Crap, I must have accidentally swallowed at least six already." I frantically started cleaning out my mouth, not feeling the effects yet. "I'm going to overdose. Drive me to the hospitol, quick!" I paused. "I should report this to the police." Adam looked completely defeated. Not only had he been taking the methanphetomine, but there was enough quantity in that attic to prove he had to be dealing it, as well. He would stop me, physically, but I'm his friend. "No..." I said, "Just take as little of this as you can, to settle your withdrawls. We'll try to get you some help."

Thats all I remember from that one. It was a strange dream because in real life, Adam stays away from drugs, religiously. I can't fathom the meaning here. I woke up from this dream from an extreme thirst for water.



In my second dream, I was playing airsoft with Brian. This was an odd simulation; we were to enter a compound, fully armed and loaded with our BB guns, and take out all hostile targets. I recall us entering a chamber: rubber floors, and turn tables. The place was theature like, but there wasn't any chairs. The moment we stepped inside, all doors closed and locked automatically. Playing along, we walked to the center of the chamber when, one of the walls flipped around, turning into a very large touch disply screen. It looked like the intro to a video game. Brian approached the screen and picked a level, 'Jacob's ladder' it was called. All of the sudden, the display sent out a blinding, white light. Brian and I, were being warped into it.

We found ourselves materializing in a park, somewhere upriver of Mount Vernon. There were plenty of people there, but something was wrong. He and I were dressed in full camoflauge, carrying realistic looking rifles (he a P90 and I an M4) but not one person looked at us, when most would probobly hide their children and take cover. We split up, approached several of the adults, trying to get some information, but they wouldn't respond to anything; we tried shouting, flailing, even shaking. Thats when it made sense... we could 'almost' touch these people, but our hands sort of passed through. I got a slight reaction from a man, but he shrugged it off like it was the wind. Clearly, brian and I were ghosts.

Still wondering what our objective was, we walked through the park looking for clues, to the only house we could find. No cars, no lights, no sound: it appeared nobody was home. Brian opened the front door, and I followed him in. Looking around, toys and stuffed animals littered the floor. Some of them looked oddly familiar... I glanced the walls for pictures and they were even more familiar. She was one of my tenants, and the other pictures were probobly her kids. Long hair, hispanic, and very beautiful. Stepping around and ontop of the piles of toys and debris, I followed Brian into the master bedroom where, he was quite frightened by something. There he was, gun drawn and shaking, at a cat looking directly back at him! It happend quick. The white, fuzzy feline plowed right into him, snarling, screeming with claws sticking in. Brian dropped his gun and fell to the floor. "Shoot it! SHOOOT IT!" He scrambled as the cat prepared to pounce again, this time for his neck. So yeah, here I am surprised as he is, kneeling beside Brian, unloading my M4 onto this cute fuzzy cat, full auto. BBs peppered the cat as it screamed and howled in pain. The cat stood its ground against the non-deadly fire defiantly and I was beginning to worry, but soon enough the cat fled into the other room. Brian seemed as he was on the brink of crying in fear. Laugh as you will, but in my dream that 12 pound cat looked VISCIOUS!

Soon enough, I could hear the family coming home. It was my ex-tenant and about three kids. Exhausted, she enteres the master bedroom where I am, and takes off her earings. Charmed by her beauty, I touch her shoulders gently, trying to see if I could get a better reaction than those we met in the park. She looked around, unstartled, but very curius. "Can you hear me?" I say softly into her ear. "Yes..." she lets go of a tear. "Do you know who I am?" I ask. "No." Looking right through me. "I'm your old apartment manager, Rick. It seems as though I'm dead."

From here its pretty vague. I remember telling the girl words that made all of her problems drift away. Wisdoms and comforts, and she became very relaxed, even seduced. We shared an intimate moment and somewhere in there the dream is ended.

Jacob's ladder is a common, familiar term. I never actually knew what it meant until I looked it up this morning:

Jacob's Ladder (Bible)
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For other uses of the term Jacob's ladder, please see Jacob's Ladder. For the South Park episode see "A Ladder to Heaven."
Jacob's Ladder refers to a ladder to heaven described in the Book of Genesis (28:11-19) which the biblical patriarch Jacob envisioned during his flight from his brother Esau: