. . . catering to underplanned whimsy . . .

1 cup creative outlet
1/2 cup curiosity
2 tbsp self-publishing
1 tbsp angst
1 tsp hope
pinch of narcissism
dash of sorrow
2 shakes invented optimism

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'haaaay'

22nd March 2010

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ok, so here’s what i mean with all that “down the rabbit hole” “dreamscape” bullshit.  or, at least, here’s a sample of why my brain takes such twists and turns and comparisons.  last night, i dreamt that i was in a foreign country. i don’t remember which one, but a foreign country of the third-world sort, possibly beirut or somewhere in south america. i don’t recall.  somehow, i had gotten myself into a housing situation in this building that looked, from the outside, as though it were totally condemned. in order to enter, you had to pull aside a piece of wood, and then ascend a number of flights of stairs. the guy who was to be one of my two housemates met me at the bottom of the stairs, and then proceeded to show me that there were two staircases one could take: one was terrifying, full of dark corners and hypothetical (expected!) monsters. the other one was ornate and rather beautiful, but small; this improved staircase could only be accessed by throwing salt. when salt was thrown in the right direction, it would appear. we got to the top of the staircase, and i couldnt’ believe my eyes. it was beautiful. rustic, yes, but gorgeous. i don’t know, but i presume that without the salt staircase, the loft at the top could not be reached.  i spent the day there, then went out to take a walk. when i returned i entered and was alone and couldn’t figure out how to get back to my home.  there were crazies everywhere outside, and i thought they were going to follow me in. i tried and i tried and only succeeded in feeling utterly creeped out. i ran out and found a place to sleep. when i awoke i realized that i was in a hotel of some sort, had stolen an apple, and was in an unpaid room that other guests were about to come in to.   when i returned to my condemned palace, it had become all self-referential to another of my dreams last week; it was no longer a loft. now it was like the top floor of a mansion which last week had also been haunted.  so, there’s that. it’s a good thing i’m not attempting to build any houses, since i might end up all sarah winchester and shit. 

ok, so here’s what i mean with all that “down the rabbit hole” “dreamscape” bullshit. 

or, at least, here’s a sample of why my brain takes such twists and turns and comparisons. 

last night, i dreamt that i was in a foreign country. i don’t remember which one, but a foreign country of the third-world sort, possibly beirut or somewhere in south america. i don’t recall.  somehow, i had gotten myself into a housing situation in this building that looked, from the outside, as though it were totally condemned. in order to enter, you had to pull aside a piece of wood, and then ascend a number of flights of stairs. the guy who was to be one of my two housemates met me at the bottom of the stairs, and then proceeded to show me that there were two staircases one could take: one was terrifying, full of dark corners and hypothetical (expected!) monsters. the other one was ornate and rather beautiful, but small; this improved staircase could only be accessed by throwing salt. when salt was thrown in the right direction, it would appear. we got to the top of the staircase, and i couldnt’ believe my eyes. it was beautiful. rustic, yes, but gorgeous. i don’t know, but i presume that without the salt staircase, the loft at the top could not be reached. 

i spent the day there, then went out to take a walk. when i returned i entered and was alone and couldn’t figure out how to get back to my home.  there were crazies everywhere outside, and i thought they were going to follow me in. i tried and i tried and only succeeded in feeling utterly creeped out. i ran out and found a place to sleep. when i awoke i realized that i was in a hotel of some sort, had stolen an apple, and was in an unpaid room that other guests were about to come in to.  

when i returned to my condemned palace, it had become all self-referential to another of my dreams last week; it was no longer a loft. now it was like the top floor of a mansion which last week had also been haunted. 

so, there’s that. it’s a good thing i’m not attempting to build any houses, since i might end up all sarah winchester and shit. 

  1. bbbryn posted this