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I don't know if this is the proper place for this. I had a way fucked-up and interesting dream that I think is just ripe for interpretation and I thought I'd share...
Okay, so I'm in this theater, sitting in the audience (it's important to note that I am actually me at this point in the dream). An awards ceremony is taking place. I've dropped acid shortly before arriving. I'm called up to the stage to accept the award for best fever dream (it's also important to note that I'm sick at the moment). As I begin my speech, a fight breaks out in the lobby between two strange creatures. I can't see them, but I hear the ruckus and I know what they are: some kind of large man-like goat-things. I continue my speech and the fight erupts into the theater. In the midst of the tussle, the goat-things break open and become large amoeba-things. The audience sits calmly, listening to my speech, as the amoebas begin to reabsorb the audience members. Meaning that the people were once part of these large amoeba-things. The amoebas comment upon reabsorbing the people: "Ah, yes. I remember this one..." and such. The amoebas reabsorb the entire audience and swallow one another up. The theater is completely empty, except for myself. I finish up my speech: "And I want to thank my parents, because it never really is enough, is it?" I exit the theater and walk through darkened streets. I see people that I know but they don't recognize me. I sense someone following. Some kind of secret agent. I take off and he follows. I feel a surge of power and I leap onto the top of a parking garage. The stress level makes me collapse. The acid kicks in. My head does much the same thing that the amoebas did to one another. I am simultaneously collapsing into and expanding out of myself. And I become someone else. I suspect that the change has been more gradual than I realize. I leave the parking garage and realize that I've lost the secret agent. I walk through the streets, again recognizing people who, understandably, don't recognize me, more accepting of the fact. I've lost, w/my identity, all pretense of social grace. I begin weeping openly, hugging strangers, making crude sexual propositions...
And then I woke up and wrote down as much of what I'd dreamt as I could remember. I have my own ideas of what this was all about, but I would be interested to see what you all make of this.
Arthur Sudnam, II |
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