A weird dream and a bad dream
Aug. 17th, 2011 04:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
davidnI had two dreams over the last week... the first one opened with me greeting Whitney's younger brother as we guided his yellow helicopter down to land. From there, we went on to meet with some people from university that I haven't talked to in years, and sat down at a long table for eight people in an Indian restaurant. I looked out the window to see my dad walking across the car park with Girard, one of the characters from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kjorteo's in-progress novel. After joining us at the table, my dad spent ages looking through the menu trying to find korma (because "that's what you couldn't get outside Britain"), and some sort of near alternative that began with a J that I don't think was actually a real word. All this time, I was aware that I had to quickly drive back and get my badge from the wall of the basement office before we moved on to our next place we were going to visit that evening, and I resolved to do it in the gap between when we ordered and when the food arrived - but the restaurant staff said that they were already staying open late on our behalf anyway (at seven in the evening!) Anyway, I've no idea.
The other was more of a... horrifying vision than a story, but it really froze me when I suddenly remembered about it the next morning. I remember a white, tiled sterile-looking room, with a man with a bald head in a swivel chair facing away from me at the far end. He turned around as I approached, and the top half of his head just... came off at the mouth, rolling away to leave me looking at his intact tongue and the bottom row of his teeth and the mess of the... cross-section of his head behind it, I don't even know what that would strictly look like because this just isn't meant to happen. He got up and moved towards me with his arms raised, and even in the dream, I remember thinking about how he looked mostly complete, but that nothing, undead or otherwise, should be able to function without a brain...
The next day at work, someone came up to me and asked me if I had lived anywhere near Dunblane, because he had seen a documentary on it the previous night - so we spent a lunchtime talking about someone going into a primary school and shooting children.
Still, you've got to laugh, haven't you.
kjorteo's in-progress novel. After joining us at the table, my dad spent ages looking through the menu trying to find korma (because "that's what you couldn't get outside Britain"), and some sort of near alternative that began with a J that I don't think was actually a real word. All this time, I was aware that I had to quickly drive back and get my badge from the wall of the basement office before we moved on to our next place we were going to visit that evening, and I resolved to do it in the gap between when we ordered and when the food arrived - but the restaurant staff said that they were already staying open late on our behalf anyway (at seven in the evening!) Anyway, I've no idea.The other was more of a... horrifying vision than a story, but it really froze me when I suddenly remembered about it the next morning. I remember a white, tiled sterile-looking room, with a man with a bald head in a swivel chair facing away from me at the far end. He turned around as I approached, and the top half of his head just... came off at the mouth, rolling away to leave me looking at his intact tongue and the bottom row of his teeth and the mess of the... cross-section of his head behind it, I don't even know what that would strictly look like because this just isn't meant to happen. He got up and moved towards me with his arms raised, and even in the dream, I remember thinking about how he looked mostly complete, but that nothing, undead or otherwise, should be able to function without a brain...
The next day at work, someone came up to me and asked me if I had lived anywhere near Dunblane, because he had seen a documentary on it the previous night - so we spent a lunchtime talking about someone going into a primary school and shooting children.
Still, you've got to laugh, haven't you.
