(Sorry it's been so long since my last post.  Haven't really had a good dream worth posting.)

It was a regular day at my convenience store job.  Raining outside, but then when didn't it rain?  Suddenly, on the store's TV, the news broke in with a "breaking story".  Somebody was holding up the gas station next door, and had apparently taken hostages and barricaded himself inside.  The description of that the reporter gave of the criminal sounded oddly familiar.  So, like an idiot, I snuck in through the back door to have a look.  Sure enough, it was an old friend from high school. 

I made myself known, which somehow seemed to calm the guy down.  I got close enough and got him calm enough that I took his gun without much effort.  Then he realizes what I'm trying to do, and he starts freaking out on me.  For some reason, I start shooting.  He's climbing up on the shelves and ducking in and out of aisles like a pro athlete.  He's moving like some kind of monkey.  I finally get him cornered in between the frozen food locker and the bread aisle.  Then, something in me causes me to slit my eyes into a squint and lower my voice.  I go into "Dirty Harry" mode.  

"You wanna eat a bullet?" I growl.  Don't know why, it's not like I was actually gonna shoot him or anything.

"I wanna live!" he shouts, and then proceeds to open the frozen foods locker, shove the shelves out into the freezer and climb through the other side.

That's when I woke up from my nap.  Back in the warehouse, I tell all the guys about the weird dream I just had, and how I was just trying to kill one of them in a gas station.  I tell them about the "You wanna eat a bullet" line, and they start cracking up and telling me I'm one crazy dude.

That's when I woke up for real.

Some friends finally managed to drag me out to a nightclub.  Things are going about as well as they could possibly go.  At one point, I've got a drink in my hand, and I need to scratch the other.  Nowhere to drop the drink, so to fix the problem, I just stick my right pinky in my mouth an scratch it with my teeth.  Not the most sanitary solution, but hey, whatever works. 

Suddenly, someone grabs me by the collar of my shirt and pulls me back.  Hard.  Before I know it, my teeth are clenched shut, my right hand is flailing around, and I've just bitten a finger off my own hand.

Holy shit.

No problem, I keep my cool.  At this point, my drink has vanished.  I wrap my right hand in a towel, my severed finger in another.  I go over  to the bartender and explain the situation.  "Can you give me a cup of ice to keep my finger in til I can get to a hospital?" 

"$5.25," he says without even giving me a look.  Ok, fine.  I pay it.

Some dreams reveal far too much about a person's emotional state for them to want to tell other people about it, sometimes frighteningly so.  Last night's was one of those.  I actually woke up sweating and angry.  I think I was more freaked out at the fact that I had the dream more than I was at the dream itself.

Yeesh.

Hey people.  Sorry I haven't updated this thing in a while.  Either my dreams are simply not interesting enough to warrant posting, or I simply don't remember the dreams I had.  It sort of alternates each night.

I guess I could start making up dreams, but then that would betray the purpose of the dream journal.

But rest assured, when I have a weird dream, you'll be the first to know.

I suddenly find myself being hunted by Anton Chigurh for God knows what reason.  Along the way, the police start hunting me as well, thinking that I'm responsible for all the people that Chigurh is killing to get to me.  I slip unnoticed into what appears to be a mall, but it's actually a facade for my hideout.  Inside, I'm suddenly surrounded by the feds, who say they want to take me in for 'questioning'.  When Chigurh shows up and the feds aren't arresting/killing him, I realize that these aren't really the feds, if you follow.  As they're dragging me off, I manage to break free and hide in what used to be a shoe store.  There, I work my way through an elaborate system of doors and tunnels that I've built into the store for just such an occasion. 

On the other side of the doors, I find myself in my garage, where I hop into some new car I must have bought/built recently, looks kinda like a batmobile.  I make a valiant escape, guns a-blazin'.

Later, I meet my parents at some kind of theme park, though different from the one in my last dream.  This one has a weird jungle theme going on.  While we're in line for a ride, I look back and see all the people in line behind us running away in the opposite direction.

So I come home from school to find that my parents have decided to have my brother, probably 10 years old at the time, tested for autism.  They say that the test is a relatively simple one, not unlike the IQ test they made me take when I was five (which, in real life, I apparently aced).  The doctor says that one of the little known side-effects of autism is telepathy, and if my brother truly is autistic, then he must be very careful in choosing his thoughts, because autistic people can get upset at the slightest thing.

He must have really insulted my brother, as he suddenly starts trying to strangle the doctor.  While this is going on, my brother's skin starts to break out in big patches of red.  The scene gets so frightening that I have to leave the room.  I sneak out of the house because this is just too weird for me.

While I'm out, I decide to go down to the water park that now stands where Jungle Rapids used to be.  I get there, and I see all these kids standing around the edge of the pool.  Nobody's getting in, and no lifeguards are around.  So I go and grab an inner-tube, and then all these kids see me doing it, so they decide that if I'm getting in the pool, then they all might as well jump in too.  At the sight of this, I realize that I'm the oldest person at this pool, and if one of these kids gets hurt or drowned or worse, I'll be the one responsible.  So I slip away unnoticed, and back home.

When I get home that night, I find my brother lying asleep on the floor of his room, just inside the door, which has a big crack running up from the bottom.  The red patches on his skin are mostly gone, but a little still remained on his face.  Then I hear my mom and dad discussing the fact that according to the bishop at our church, this shouldn't be happening to my brother for another five or six years.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I do, in fact, know what autism is.  My dreams, however, apparently don't.

Dreamt about all the weird stuff that happened to me on Thursday.  I honestly don't remember any of the specifics beyond the fact that I thought I'd woken up on Thursday and had a bunch of weird shit happen to me.

I woke up this morning thinking it was Friday.

No dream.

But I managed to sleep straight through last night, from lights-out to alarm-sound.  That almost never happens. 

For some reason, I assumed that graduate school would be just like regular college.  Only harder.  Yes and no.

I don't know where this place is or where I was even supposed to be, but there I was, moving into grad school.   Moving into the building I'd be living in, there were no elevators.  Just stairs.  Ok, that's fine, I can walk it.  I get to my floor, and there's no door.  Instead there's a small chasm that I have to jump across to reach my floor.  It's a little weird, but that's fine.  I'm greeted by who I can only assume was the RA.  He never said.

While I'm downstairs unloading the car, there's suddenly a siren and in an instant, SWAT team guys and cops are swarming the place.  I go to the door to see what's going on, and there's RA guy talking on a CB-radio with what sounds like some angry German guy.  I stand back and just watch.  After a while everything calms and everyone disperses.  I ask RA guy what the hell was going on and he says "It's ok, was just a drill."  Wonderful, I guess?

[At this point in the dream my mind starts to wander, because I can't even keep dreams on track.  How sad is that?  I think I started imagining what kind of video game I had fallen into, only to snap out of it and tell myself that it wasn't a video game, it was a dream.]

Later on, I'm talking to some guy in the hallway, and he offers to help me find my class schedule.  There's only one listed [that I remember]: "ACT 515: How to Negotiate with Erudite Terrorist Leaders".  It's at this point that I realize that I've come to graduate school to learn to be an action hero. 

Somewhere along the way, I'm talking to my mom.  She asks me if I'm worried that Sean (my current roommate in real life) might find a replacement friend to take my place.  I tell her this is something I've certainly considered, but am very much not worried about it.

It was inevitable.  I had a dream about Cloverfield.  Not much to tell here, so I'll just describe it.

The dream was essentially the that the monster attacks New York as it does in the movie, and for some reason, I'm a security guard on the other end of the city.  So I'm waaaay out of harm's way, hoping and praying that the whatever-the-hell-that-is doesn't make this far north.  And it doesn't, or at least I've woken up long before it would have.

That's it.  Pretty boring dream (as far as I remember it), and I have no idea why my first subconscious thought about that movie ended up being this.