new dream: plane crash w/ video

So I had this bonkers dream last night. I was in Las Vegas, by myself for some reason. I was staying at this small, light-green stucco hotel. There were small tents around the perimeter, people selling stuff. A small market. There was no grass, only sandy dirt. Some palm trees around. Vegas skyline off in the distance.

I got off the phone and noticed two 747 jumbo jets both taking off at the same time, they were huge in the sky. One above the other, coming my direction. What a perfect view, I thought. I got out my phone and started to take a photo, but it was set to video. As soon as I think to change it, one plane pulls up and runs straight into the bottom of the plane above it. Massive explosion. both planes careen downward and look to be coming right at me.

I am still standing there, dumbfounded, holding my phone taking video of the whole thing. I finally come to my senses and my legs shake as I turn to run into the hotel. "Inside!" I yell to people running around me. I feel like the whole place is going to be crushed at any second, and I'm scrambling to find a bathroom or room without a window. I go through some doors and finally find a bathroom corner as I hear crashing noises. A girl runs by and I tell her to hunker down in the corner too. I pull the door open to block any flying glass. And we wait.

Things get really quiet. I'm expecting destruction, but it never comes. Eventually 10 minutes or so pass and I go outside to see what happened. As pass the threshold of the main entrance, both planes hit the ground in giant fireballs on both sides of the hotel. A gust of hot air and dust blows from all directions. Aside from some dirt in my eye, I am uscathed.

People start running out and yelling. Some are running to help survivors. A firetruck blows past. I am looking at my footage and it's a perfect HD shot of the planes hitting each other and exploding. I spend the next few dream sequences frustratingly talking to news outlets trying to get the best offer for my footage. Other people are selling their footage and they are either terrible angles from a security cam or they start right after the explosion. I know I will finally sell it, but I get distracted, as some old friends come to see me. As we're talking, I am still in the same clothes as during the accident. Time hasn't passed for me more than 15 minutes, but a day or two has gone by for everyone else. I tell my friends how I was worried about the planes hitting me but I knew they probably wouldn't. As we sit on an outside deck of the hotel, one of the planes is being carted past on a giant flatbed. There is a huge hole just behind the cabin. Everyone oohs and aahs. I'm still wondering who's gonna pay for this footage.

the end?

buddy buddy w trump

Nov 26, 2013 10:18am had a dream I was buddy buddy w Donald trump, and asked him if my friend Keith Bergman could get free nights at the trump related hotels while traveling around the country doing stand-up... But trump said "no way" cause Keith allegedly did a trump bit in his act. hohoho

johnny cash's weird, clown horror house in gas city

so this morning's weirdo dream: 

i was riding in a pickup truck with a high school friend. we were driving through gas city indiana, but it looked like a war zone. or detroit. rows of empty houses and urban blight. some houses were just frames.

as we drove along i saw a row of really tall houses. one was tall like a church but it had a room built on top of a spire, and it went out to the left. against the laws of physics and good architecture. i had my friend stop the truck so i could get a photo of it with my phone.

once i got out i noticed all the tall trees around it. none of them had any leaves. the street was just dried dirt. as i'm moving to get a better shot i realize that the house has a large tree running through the center of it that i hadn't noticed. it appears to be supporting the house all the way up to the top spire and weird room.

 then the dream shifts and now i'm a different person, with a family. there are a bunch of kids getting out of the car to look at the same house and i am telling them to stay together. as we get closer to the house i am telling everyone the house has a name, like the 'wilson house' or the 'fountain ace house' but i can't remember.


it dawns on me that i am showing the house to this family, and i am warning the kids to stay away because the house is haunted and it's not safe. and also that johnny cash is the person who owns the house, although he is angry with me for wanting to show it. he specifically told me not to show the house because of the evil that lurks inside.

i lead the kids around to the side of the house, they want to get in and explore. on that side of the house is a large garage door that is covered in clown lights, just like the circus circus sign in las vegas. apparently the house was used for a horror movie involving clowns. eventually johnny cash pulls up, and boy is he angry.
 
the end?

little healer cry - locked in the printer room

This morning's dream: 

we were at some psychic gathering, there were large polished minerals on a glass table. people were crowding around. i saw a 'for sale or trade' sticker on one white marble looking stone. suddenly a little person nudged me. she had light brown feathered hair and a maroon shirt. brown pants. she said she was a healer. i said "heal me" and she grabbed my sides and put her head against me. for a few moments we stood there. then she stepped back and asked if i felt better. i didn't really but i told her i did. my wife and i started to walk away and she smiled. i looked back a few seconds later and the woman was holding her head and crying.

now i'm alone in a room with a bunch of expensive looking printers. one is the size of a car. it's dimly lit. a man comes in and i'm surprised to see him. he is here to do the repair. he presses a button and the top half of the giant printer moves up and creates an opening. he leans in and does some fixing with his tools. i retreat to a smaller room. the man finally leaves and the door locks behind him. i have a cot in the small room and a small radio. it's like i'm waiting for something. suddenly on the radio there is a break in the static and a voice says there are tornadoes outside of Cincinnati. another voice breaks in and corrects the first voice, saying it's south of Cincinnati. the first voice comes back and says "Kentucky, whatever". then a different voice breaks in and says "Tornadoes in Carmel Indiana!" and the lights go out. i'm in pitch blackness. i realize the doors are electronically locked and no one is going to find me. i'm going to starve to death. the fear wakes me up.
 

bits and pieces

I've had bits and pieces of dreams recently, but they are fleeting. Sometimes when i wake up the dream is right there and i make a mental note to type up as much as i can remember. But later, when it occurs to me that i forgot, the mental note is completely disintegrated, and i'm lucky if i can remember anything.

that being said, this week i had a few dreams that are partially intact. there was one where the band was employed by Prince and we had to record black metal songs as he saw fit.

this morning, or maybe yesterday morning, there was something about having (or finding) a huge stash of old 45rpm singles. there were literally boxes and boxes of them. some of them were priceless and i wanted to sort through them, but my wife wanted me to throw them out.

another dream involved a government mandated evacuation of our area (yet it wasn't my recognizable area) and after rounding up 7 kids (!!) that i don't have, i found myself trying to find which books i wanted to bring, then realizing i hadn't packed up all the animals. and we didn't have enough animal carriers for all of them. at some point i screamed that i didn't believe in the fake government catastrophe and would stay here and die with my animals if that came to be. frustrating to say the least.

there was one other dream that had some scenario that i can't even remember now... except the anguish of being stuck in this frustrating scene that never ended. it was like i kept coming back to the same spot and couldn't find a resolution. and that felt like it went on for hours and hours. i can clearly remember that feeling but not the scenario or setting. weird.

miami cop at the casino w bruno mars

Sep 13, 2013 11:16am had a dream i was a miami cop and my cop partner and i went to the casino with bruno mars (and i had to loan him some gambling monies)

heavy metal video shoot

this morning's dream was disturbing.

i was shooting a music video, for an unnamed metal band. we did an open casting call and had 3 or 4 film crews show up as well. in a big greyish blue, 'haunted house' themed room, there were about 40 or 50 metalheads surrounding the 'band' (which i couldn't see). one of the film crew guys took over and started yelling directions. the music started and everyone was pumping their fists and raging into the cameras. then the violence started. i can't tell if they were fighting or stabbing one another, but when the guy yelled "cut!" everyone was fine. there was a brief period where people stood around while the footage from each film crew was reviewed. then someone dismissed all the film crews except the one with the best footage. except this someone was also in that film crew. it was also at this time the rest of the film crews found out they wouldn't be compensated for their time. they packed their gear and left. i wanted to at least see what footage they had, but things were already moving on without me.

they started shooting some b-roll shots. everyone was cleared out of the room except a sword wielding ninja-metal guy. tape is rolling and sword ninja is going bonkers, slashing everything. his big finale was slicing the back wall in half from the top down. when he did, he also split a face in half that was just behind the drywall. it came forward and got stuck as blood oozed out. everyone freaked. but was it real? i was sure it was a fan hiding in the set but later convinced myself it was a prop.

a bunch more stuff happened in that sequence that i can't remember.

later i was sitting on a concrete porch of a house next to a gas station. there were about 8 'mourners' dressed in robes with hoods outside in the grass. a friend came up and asked what they were doing here. i told them they were in mourning and had been here for days, maybe weeks. he said so and so died a few years ago and left in disgust.

the end?

the shopping mall band feat. biz markie

this morning i had a dream i was stealing dinnerware from a Shoneys type restaurant. i was dressed like i worked there, jamming silverware in my apron, filling a cart with glasses, pitchers, whatever, and rolling them out to the parking lot.

later, i met lara spencer from good morning america at the shopping mall. she seemed to be strung out and you could tell she'd been crying. she had a sad story about being dumped repeatedly so i felt sorry for her. later we became an item.

at some point she aged 40 years and we started a band to make a living (all in the shopping mall). the band wasn't making any money but we ran into biz markie who was also looking for a gig, so we asked him to join. the three of us played in front of the fountain at the mall, 24-7. hoping to catch the pennies people were using for wishes, i think.

the end?

every band needs an underground bunker in the woods

dream this morning:

there's a conversation about rain barrels and we're near some cleared farm land. we take a ride deep into the woods on a dirt road. the woods look very much like the ones behind my childhood home. after a while we come to a nondescript black structure that looks like it's made out of solid graphite. i can't see a roof. it's about the size of a small garage.

inside is an elevator that goes down four stories into the earth. there's some popular rock band who took their millions and built it. they are a bunch of professional skaters. they sound like Minus the Bear or whatever that style is called. it's part fallout shelter, part underground fortress and part rehearsal space. everything is flat black and coated with metal or marble. they tell me it's a 'long term construction' and 'friends can come over'.

on the second level down we stop. one of the guys in the band tells me he's been working on this 'sculpture' which is actually a carving into a wall between two elevators. it looks like he started with one thing and then changed his mind. he's asking my opinion. should it be a cartoonish image of a guy chugging a beer? i tell him 'i guess so?' but deep down i think it looks really dumb. i think one of the guys in the band was a huge drug addict (and is dead or off in rehab) and maybe the first version was him shooting up or something, then they modified the sculpture to be about drinking too much. either way it sucks.

we go down to the bottom level. there's an 'underground metal' show going on (pun intended?). i think it's a noisy metalcore band called Basilisk. it's so packed the crowd is halfway up the emergency stairs. i decide to wait until it's over. i run into some Coffinworm dudes and we're talking about how every band needs an underground fortress.

finally the noisy band is done and people are taking the elevators. the crowd thins so i go down the stairs and Monster Magnet is setting up. nobody in this crowd knows who they are, and those that do don't even care. i'm waiting for them to start jamming out in this underground bunker and it gets really cold. it's so cold i think there must be a ghost sucking the energy out of the room. as i turn to mention the ghostly cold to someone, i realize i am in bed, sleeping. my arm is hanging over the ice cold air blowing from a vent . then i'm awake and i can't get back to the bunker. show goes on without me. fak.

the end?

george takei as jane roberts?

Jul 17, 2013 9:38am so i had a dream they were making a big budget movie about the seth material and i was going to be in it, but george takei was playing jane.

the mad scientist wants to live

i had a dream that i was a mad scientist who looked exactly like david bowie. my main focus was research on the undead. i had done very bad things in studying them and may have killed some people in order to watch them turn (although that is based purely on the overwhelming guilt i felt). 

there was a bunch of them in my basement and somehow they had escaped their cages. in the melee, i was attacked and bitten. my strange looking (ann coulter?) scientist wife and i may have unwittingly released the undead on the city. we were on the run. we ended up in an abandoned school bus, tending to our wounds. i decided to take the suicide pills. 

my wife left. (to get help?) i lay bleeding in a fevered state in the back of the school bus... waiting to die. consciousness faded in and out. shifting between reincarnational existences. one was myself yet not myself in a different time, a different band. another one i was black and in prison. i faded to myself in bed, still not clarifying that it was a dream. the focus shifted back to the scientist in the bus.

i was remembering now, memories of the scientist. there was a large open park with hills and ponds. a small bike path ran through it. i was on my  bicycle riding through, and near the end of the trail there was a small house. i saw a pile of sunflower plants and decided to steal them. but it was nearly impossible to ride the bike and carry them all.

i wake up on the bus and my wife is there. i tell her i don't want to die, i think i can survive the suicide pills. i feel terrible though. weak and sick. she looks at me like i'm already dead. like she's already moved on. but my survival instincts are kicking in, i'm going to make it. although i will probably end up on the run for the rest of my life.

then i wake up in my own bed, feeling awful. feeling like i carried the effect of the pills into this life. 'i don't wanna die from a dream pill' i think to myself. 'no one will know what happened... uhhh' and then i wrote down the dream and went back to sleep.

the end?   
 

on tour with the couch stealers

i would say this dream is weird but they are all pretty damn weird.

i was on tour, solo acoustic. DIY style. the opening 'band' was chris bowser, jeff kaleth and marshall kreeb, among others. they had a handful of teenage kids doing their roadie work. we played one of our first shows at some soup kitchen place. i was surrounded by fans but saw jeff and chris carrying a couch out of a doorway while everyone was preoccupied. i ran over and asked them what they were doing, very concerned.

"did she ask you to move that? why are you taking the couch? why aren't you answering me? what the fuck dudes?"

they just giggled like 5 year olds. when they finally got it outside jeff admitted no one gave any permission and we had the kids move it back.

the next show we played was at a battered women's shelter. i had just finished my set and i see them carrying something off at the back of the club, smiling and laughing. i'm too busy getting paid to deal with it. eventually i sneak a peek into their second trailer (towed behind the first) and they have two stolen couches from the shelter stacked on top of each other. they brought an extra trailer just to steal couches!

that evening we're all crashing in some hotel room, spread out on the floor. everyone has a sleeping bag and a sack of mcdonalds food. i finally tell the guys:

"look, i'm serious. if you steal one more couch, i will never play another show with you guys, ever. it's stupid."

just smiles, looking at each other and busting into fits of uncontrollable laughter. nobody is taking me seriously at all.

"did you guys even hear me?"

at this point one of the teen roadies, who had apparently been doing shots, starts throwing up in my mcdonalds sack. i start getting shittier and shittier about the couch stealing, to the point where i forget he puked in there. finally, i am about to make a dramatic exit and i reach in and pull out a handful of salad smothered in thousand island dressing (which i hate) and stuff it in my mouth. i can taste the salad, it's warm and gross. i chew it really slow and deliberately. ok, i have a mouthful of salad now... what's going to happen? for a second i think i am eating vomit but then i realize he actually threw up in a different sack. (?)

i leave the room to go to my wife's room. she's flown in from somewhere and staying in the 'extra security' suites. the hotel is like a giant entertainment resort, part theme park, part casino, part ghetto. i get a ride across the grounds in a golf cart and it still takes forever. i climb up the side of a scaffold and jump into a balcony. there's an empty keystone light cardboard box and cigarette butts along with a lawn chair. wrong room. i open the door and there's a meth-head looking dude in there playing video games on a small tv.

"WHOOR YOO?" he slurs, half awake.
"wrong room, sorry buddy" i reply as i exit through the front door like a ninja.

i make my way across level after level of parking garage. just when i can't believe how long it's taking, i come to a main hub. there, encased in a huge glass-covered room are three elevator shafts. each one is like a giant silver tube going up and down. i get inside the room and i see other stairs going off at various angles. people are coming and going. i see someone go up to the center elevator. the door is framed in a giant, red, pulsing light. someone holds up a key fob and the door opens. i remember barbie had given me two key fobs, one for the main elevator and one for the extra security zone. i fish around in my pocket and finally get the elevator ride i need.

when i get to the room, i start complaining about the couch stealing band and how they didn't even give a shit. then it fades out and i can't remember anything else.

the end?

murder, manatees & hound dog on a street sign

this morning i had a sickening, endless run-on nightmare. i am sure it would have gone on for hours (lifetimes, in dream speak) if i hadn't gotten out of bed.

there was a little old lady with a round face, curly white hair and many wrinkles under her giant glasses. her shabby clothes didn't conceal her chubby little figure. her and her husband (who was also wrinkly, balding, chubby and white haired) lived in squalor in a small one bedroom. everything in the apartment was old and hand-me-down. somehow the lady was me but not me. there was a sickening feeling of dread and extreme poverty. somehow myself and my wife were in a restaurant with the couple. there were glass windows and it was a scummy diner. the flourescent lights were oddly dim and everything was cast in a gray and orange tint...  we ordered the buffet and ate with trepidation and worry, but chatted with them like we were fine. after we finished the owner of the diner realized the old lady was going to pay with her expired credit card and they had swindled him before. so he locked the door and was going to kill us all. we were trying to get out, pushing on the glass while he went to get an axe. i didn't see the killing, but i felt the fear and sickness and faded out.

next i was back at the old lady's apartment. my cousin chuck was my brother in this sequence, and i had another brother i didn't recognize. we were the children of the old couple. they weren't home yet, but we were preparing to murder them when they returned. we had trip wires and knives. the unknown brother had some hedging shears. he was going to slide down a wire into their faces. then he would jump out and cut their heads off. i was frightened but i was implicit in plot. it was some sort of revenge that i couldn't figure out, but i definitely wasn't trying to change the outcome. this settting up of weapons seemed to take forever before i faded out.

then we were in some future dystopia, thousands of years ahead. the old lady and old man were there, but they were younger. i was their son. there were large angular moats surrounding giant pyramidal buildings. the moats were filled with manatees. our family was poor and starving. we were on a raft, looking to catch and eat a manatee. i was unaware of what was happening until the old man pulled up a baby manatee from the water onto the raft. when i objected and the old man explained to me that we had to eat to survive and this was the only way. my consciousness zoomed out in a fast motion and i finally woke up.

a few days ago i had this less depressing dream:

the band was on tour. we were driving across the beautiful mountains of indiana (in an alternate reality, apparently) and cincinnati was off to our southwest. this didn't make sense to me and i tried to tell the guys that the map was wrong but everyone looked at me like i was from another dimension. eventually we stopped to get some work done on the van. there were mountains all around. next to the shop was a guitar store. i took my acoustic in there because i needed to get new strings or something. the shop owner looked at it while i waited. he finally returned and told me i needed new everything on it. new headstock, new strings, new neck, new whatever... this enraged me and i told him it didn't need anything and it was fine just how it was. the argument escalated and we were back in the garage, which was now my childhood home garage. i told the shop owner i didn't need any new strings, or a guitar for that matter. i picked up a Do Not Enter sign off the floor and hoisted it under my arms like a guitar and started playing 'hound dog' by elvis presley. even though there were no strings, i was able to make the sign sound like a guitar by using my fingers to hold down the chord progression. i was into it and singing and not believing it at the same time. i think i sat there after all the dream characters faded away and marveled at how awesome that was, then tried to figure out how i pulled it off. eventually i woke up in a good mood

the end?

gay white house chef - cut my hair

had a dream the other day that a friend, who was a gay chef at the white house who looked like brad nowell from sublime, was fired for making out with his boyfriend on white house grounds, during an event for kids. i was trying to convince him to sue the government for discriminating against him.

then this morning i had a dream i was in a big castle made out of ice, and somehow decided to cut all my hair off with one big pair of scissors. it left me with a ridiculous angled bowl cut. immediately i was picking it up off the floor and regretting it, until a voice told me i was only dreaming. i sighed a sigh of relief and went back into the dream. but that's all i remember.

mitt romney van halen christmas presents pool party & more

my dreams have been getting very annoying lately. this morning's gem: 

i was at a pool party for mitt romney. we congratulated him for some unknown reason (not being president?) and someone brought in a massive box of christmas presents sent to him by his 'fans'. we got to open them (in case they blew up). later there was a concert in the backyard by van halen (no hagar or wolfie) and they were using these elevated light poles that had little seats on them. out of nowhere, a local cover band, angry they didn't get the pool party gig, showed up one by one, naked, and took the stage. i was videotaping the crowd to get their reactions and refused to turn around. someone said the lead guitarist was 'excited'. people were pointing. out of the corner of my eye, i saw eddie van halen come down from the light pole tower to fight him and his boner. the end?

yesterday's dream was very upsetting:

chad had inherited an entire warehouse of vinyl records. there were rows and rows in there, with shelves 12 feet high filled with LPs, old and new. for some reason, when he got the news he new there were too many records for him to keep them all, so he decided to share them. (yeah, right) at that moment, a guy i don't really care for (we'll call him moochy) came up next to where i happened to be standing, and chad said we both would share the records with him. then we're in the warehouse, chad is gleefully calling people to let them know, and i'm stuck in there with moochy. moochy tells me he's taking 3/4 of the area and insists that is fair. i protest and can't believe that i am stuck in the situation with such a bum. so moochy goes down the rows to look for his favorite underground releases and i start grabbing records and moving them to my 1/4 of the space. i stumbled on a sabbath LP boxed set, but there were two of them, so i left one for him. the entire time i am cursing moochy and his moochy ways and grumbling about this shitty situation. the end?

monday's dream is already slipping from memory, here's what i emailed myself about it using my phone:


Drunk driving after going thru garage full of cool stuff, figures maps print etc
We went to this party where always people were in this house was
dilapidated and need to fix up the house a was crazy stuccoed walls, with
deep incision in them, weird floors and hanging out it was like a
tennis castle weirdness
Some sort them were money-laundering gone and I remember another connection
to the crime show the can't remember here Rachel's house


the dreams i had in costa rica were also weird, as usual. i wrote some of them down:

one dream i was in my childhood home, in the garage, and the Today Show's Savannah Guthrie was crying, wanted to get back together. i had to convince her she had the wrong guy, as i was married and she is engaged.

another dream really freaked me out. all i can remember was i was talking to a person and they shapeshifted into a different person *but were really the same person*. as i got over my shock they shapeshifted into a different person, a tv newscaster and instead of talking to them, i was merely watching them on tv. i woke up feeling pretty confused and upset.

another dream was inspired by the hot & humid conditions. i was trying to sleep in a tent cabin and was sweating so bad i had to flip from side to side over and over. the dream flowed out of that, each time i flipped over i was doing the opposite side of a mexican businessman's accounting ledger. one side was making money, the other was losing money. it seemed to go on forever (and i hate math).

by far the weirdest dream i had in costa rica involved me joining a black metal band. the band was a tribute band, because some other black metal band had been stabbed to death by a different black metal band. all the band names were full of consonants, like GGRRKKIK and AKKIRRRK. i remember watching one band's video and it was pretty gnarly, with dirt and mud mixed into their silver corpsepaint *a nod to ace frehley?*. anyway, the two bands were on tour and someone insulted someone else over loving satan and then they stabbed them all to death. the tribute band featured myself and glenn danzig on vocals. i don't think we ever actually did a show cause i finally woke up. 

the end?













 

jamming with your mom, you were a weirdo in high school

dreams are weird.

this morning's saga involves a group of people i knew in high school who weren't close friends or anything. lydia (not her real name) had called me and asked if i wanted to play in a band with her mom. for whatever reason i said sure.

now i'm at their multi-family house and it's a big, open-kitchen-living room with bright tan counters with white cabinets and walls. there's a high angled ceiling and through the windows and patio doors you can see a large yard with a pool. the dining room table has been moved and they have set up a small stage in its place. lydia's mom is cleaning up the clutter in the kitchen and we're talking about the songs she wants to play. lydia's husband (we'll call him dirk) is going to play drums. great. her dad is there but he's not involved in the 'band'. soon someone is holding a baby next to me with curly blonde hair. i don't know who's kid she is. she'd be a cute baby if her right eye wasn't sticking out so far. someone gently pushes it back in the socket.

we spend an inordinate amount of time talking about what to call the band. dad chimes in but everyone hates his ideas. no one can agree on a name so it never gets decided.

we end up jamming and it is turrrble. i'm trying to help but nothing seems to work. dirk hasn't played drums since the early nineties. everyone knows that it sucks. after a while i have to leave. better luck next time, i say.

flash forward: i'm back at the house, but this time lydia is going to sing instead of her mom. apparently watching her mom roused some sort of competitive thing between them. the dad is still there, he is in a barcalounger with no socks on. surprisingly, dirk isn't playing drums anymore. "he couldn't do it today" she says... but i get the feeling they had a big fight about it and he said 'screw you'. there's another kid there, someone to play bass or guitar. he has cropped blonde hair and is wearing a red and grey striped button up shirt. i think he's 15.

we start playing. it seems like were playing a siouxsie and the banshees song (even though i couldn't tell you what that sounds like in real life). at some point lydia said we had to be punk rock because that's what her kids like. so i took off my pants and underwear and was wearing only a long t-shirt. nevermind that little kids and her mom and dad were all there. i'm just here flapping in the breeze.

the 'practice' goes only marginally better than the previous one with the mom. very quickly i'm starting to get jaded with this project and the no pants thing.

later.... i'm outside loading up my gear (with pants). another friend of lydia's (who also was in our graduating class) has shown up to hang out. i haven't seen her in years.

"oh are you jamming with lydia's mom?"
"actually, lydia was singing today."
"that's cool"
"i haven't seen you since high school, it's been a long time"
"you were a real weirdo in high school"
"sorry, i was pretty confused back then"

after this exciting conversation, i'm back at my house. our car is stuck in the alley, something is wrong with the wheels. i leave the door open and corey and i head off to the bar. when we come back, my crazy neighbor lady is screaming bloody murder. there are cars in front of and in back of my car in the alley, cars parked in her yard, on her slab, they are everywhere. a veritable log jam of cars. the cops had already been called but they are just hanging out. this sends crazy neighbor lady into a spitting rage. we laugh and laugh as we leave.

eventually the other cars are moved and i push our car in front of the house. it's now missing a door. someone had yanked it off and threw it in the trunk.

flash forward to my childhood home. my friend trevor is driving a huge dump truck with 6 giant tractor wheels. he is tearing up the yard and my dad will be pissed. he gets to the barbed-wire fence and just drives right through it, which blows his front left tire. but that doesn't really stop him. he tears up the field beyond. then i wake up.

the end?

gambling blackout, the lady in white, joining the CIA

dream:

at the casino, but no one can find me. i see my concerned friends and wife asking the pit boss if he had seen me, he can't remember. this goes on for a while.

then i'm somewhere in the service area of the casino after going through a door in back of the food court. i end up in a small hallway with many dirt-stained, metal doors. i know there is something bad behind each of these doors, so i get out... fast.

eventually i find everyone and i recount what i remember: i was playing a table game (blackjack?),  getting more and more drunk, and i blacked out. (i feel like i was drugged by someone) i apparently lost more money than i said i had on me (cause i still had $50 in my pocket) and became belligerent. at this point i find there was someone (the tall blonde in white) who bailed me out on my debts. i only know this because she mysteriously left a note in my pocket. the note was vague but it somehow put me in some sort of indentured servitude to the lady in white, a CIA agent.

later there is a tense meeting filled with confusion and denials but i reluctantly become a fledgeling  CIA agent for the lady in white. i'm out there now, hustling people at the casino and drugging them and giving them citations (and worse) and eventually it dawns on me that the entire thing is a ruse and they are still just using these tasks to keep tabs on me! (and she's probably not in the CIA!) i began to plot and scheme on how to get back at them but i can't remember the rest...

right before i woke up, i was telling someone that Coffinworm had to cancel their show at the children's museum because mr britts refused to change the lyrics to happy, kid-related topics.

prison viagra - crazy neighbor lady pops in

so this morning's dream was a little extra weird. the parts that i can remember, anyway. i was in prison. i don't know why or how. but the prison guard lady brought me a viagra, and i was pretty happy about it, but i don't know why. my prison outfit is blue denim and my hair is short and spiky. the bars of the prison are painted lime green.

flash forward and we are being shown some girl's house. she is explaining her small business but i can't remember any of it. just orange walls and black tables. then i'm talking to my mother (not in this life mother) and two daughters (not in this life daughters) and they are asking me for something. i have no idea what or why, but i'm sitting in a towel, having just gotten out of the shower.  a door materializes next to me and someone opens it with a key. my eyes go wide and i can't believe it. my crazy neighbor pops her head in and says "i can't believe you didn't give them the money. harumpf"

what?

herve villechaize sings

to be listened to before bed every night

BEELZEFUZZ "Hardluck Melody"

lost in europe

so yesterday i had a long dream sequence that involved a scavenger hunt (which i hate) and it somehow ended with me ALMOST getting the last items before being attacked by john goodman's eye-patch wearing character from "O' Brother Where Art Thou?", big dan.

today i dreamed we were in europe. we were in a toy store that was a very old converted church. the toys were stacked to the ceiling, all kinds of japanese rare collectibles. i had set my backpack down and when i came back to get it, everything was gone. my passport, my money, my clutch tickets and my H2 recorder were gone also, along with the normal stuff. i remember telling myself it was ok, i could get another recorder, but then i thought of the files i lost. someone came over to see if i was ok. i told them what happened and i looked again and my money and passport were back in the bag.

then i realized i lost my wife somewhere. of course i knew she probably lost me and went back to the hotel, but i didn't remember which train we took and i didn't know the language. for what seemed like a very long time i was wandering around trying to remember where to go, and what to do. i started asking around and someone suggested i take this roller coaster train. i began waiting for the train and generally being worried when i heard my mom's voice. she was below the waiting area in an outdoor restaurant, telling an apparently very funny story to some germans. everything about the train station and restaurant was wrought iron with dark wood planks, benches and steps. she didn't seem surprised to see me, but i was relieved to see her and be able to speak english again.

then i heard my name called out and saw mr. corey webb shopping for records. apparently there was a record store nearby and i went to talk to him. he was trying to convince me to buy this giant book about def leppard and some of these rare vinyl items. after waiting in line we got our def leppard books and european records and walked out front where my wife was waiting. she was pissed.

the end?

left behind, mega-casino & brann's baby carrots

had a dream i was left behind at a gas station on tour. thanks to some friendly truck drivers, i was able to get a ride to the nearest mega-casino. it was big, like the death star. they had the original guns n roses back together doing a residency. i was milling around in the super-mall inside the casino and saw duff mckagan carrying his bass to their practice room. somehow i stumbled into brann dailor (Mastodon was doing a residency too). he seemed under the weather so i gave him a bag of baby carrots. we talked for a while and he gave me tickets to the show. then i was off to find the luckiest slot machine, but i woke up instead.

hills, houses on huge columns, my old jambox, alfredo and kitchen dookie

another weirdo dream... we're on the road, but this time with Mothership. the dudes have booked a show somewhere, and it's hillbilly heaven. with tall, rolling, actual hills. really steep ones. all the houses  are built into these hills using what appears to be ancient roman columns. and depending on the angle of the hill, some of the homes are supported by 50 feet or more of these segmented, giant columns.

"they don't look safe at all" i said.
"they prolly aren't." someone replied.

between the hills with crazy column houses is a low area, with a basketball court and a gravel parking lot. i'm down there on a picnic table hanging out with the Mothership dudes. i am listening to my old school jam box with the cassette player and the Q95 sticker on it. it still has the ink from the marker when i 'customized' it. i don't know what we're listening to but it's time to order some food. i'm told it's ok to leave the jam box playing on the picnic table and am led to the underside of one of these ridiculous houses. someone has set up some card tables and they hired some guy to go pick up food from the Olive Garden.

"i'll have what i always have, fettucine alfredo. big salad." i am really sure about my order, and i appreciate the Michelob light, but i need to use the bathroom. upstairs, in the house, i'm told.

i end up in the kitchen of this house on giant columns on the side of a steep hill... and there is a toilet next to the stove. "i'm not going to shit in there." i say to the kid who lives there. "where do you shit, right here? really?" he kind of frowns and points to a giant basket next to the refrigerator. the basket is full of potato sized, dolly madison starcrunch looking dook.

i decide to get my jambox and leave. then i wake up and have to poo.

the end?

kobayashi's chinese ghosts: worst gig ever

another terrible dream...

dtp is getting geared up for a tour with our friends lo-pan and chris cornell and reverend horton heat. i am packing my personal stuff but i can't decide what to bring, i have movies but there are too many to choose. finally it's time to leave. we get to the venue but i find out we're not playing the first date (why are we there?), it's only chris cornell and jim heath from rev horton heat. before they play i'm talking to chris cornell, who's dressed in a black, elvis style, giant collared shirt, but he's ignoring me. jim heath is very friendly and let's me check out his guitar, which is not actually a guitar but a trombone(?). i pulled it from the case and played it without the mouthpiece (for sanitary reasons?). it sounded like a little kid fart.

fast forward to the next gig. it's just dtp & lo-pan now, and we're playing in what looks like a chinese restaurant owned by professional hot dog eater kobayashi (who is japanese). the floors and tables and chairs are all white. the columns holding the very high ceilings are white. the stage is at the far end, it's about 4 feet tall, and about 50 feet wide, all white. 

after we are set up, rob informs me that he has re-written all his parts and will start playing the new parts at this show. i try to tell him it's not the right time and we should go over the sections if he wants to try new stuff, but he's sure it's going to be fine. 

well, it wasn't fine. no one could properly hear and the songs, all three of them, explode into actual nightmare train wrecks. the kind with the awkward silence and furrowed brows after you stop playing. at some point i start jabber-jawing with the crowd to lighten the mood, but there's only about 10 chinese people eating in there and they are stone faced... and not moving. they are all wearing white. my wife responds to my not funny remarks and there is a back and forth dialogue that somehow manages to make us look even more pathetic.

it's so bad that i leave and am immediately zipped away to a weird suburban neighborhood. i'm driving. i see a guy mowing grass who looks like my uncle paul. i pull in this driveway and walk to the backyard. the guy is gone but the mower is still there, so i start mowing. i'm mowing and thinking and it's sunny and beautiful, but eventually a different guy comes out and asks me what the hell i'm doing there. i'm mowing my uncle's yard, obviously. he says it's his house and no one by that name lives there, and tells me to get lost. so he chases me off. i get in the car and apologize before he attacks me for mowing his lawn.

eventually, i'm back at the chinese restaurant gig. kobayashi is very upset and his band is supposed to play last, apparently he shreds heavy metal guitar solos as well as sucking down hebrew nationals.

i am trying to find out why lo-pan isn't playing. i start searching the place and find a window at the top of a small stairwell. it looks out over a grave that is built up with a japanese shrine. giant steps leading to a glass covered casket. i assume this is why our set turned to garbage, ghosts. they don't like the venue so close to their resting spot.

 i go backstage and everyone is there, smoking heroin out of giant glass pipes. i tell them kobayashi is serious and that the ghosts are possessing people, but no one listens. $2 a hit, they say.

eventually lo-pan is onstage ready to play. i'm feeling good now that the show is going to redeem itself. but it doesn't. the dudes look like they've eaten entire jars of pig tranquilizers. pupils dialated wide and staring into space. nobody is moving except the now visibly angry kobayashi, who tries to start moving their gear.

i decide to save the day. i jump onstage and magically i have a half stack plugged in and i start jamming. and it sounds really good, like slayer playing the grateful dead. except none of those dudes are jamming along, it's just me, my awesome guitar jam bouncing off the high ceiling of a chinese restaurant. kobayashi, jumps onstage and grabs the guitar neck. he's cursing me in japanese. i yell that he didn't tell us about the ghosts. that makes him do a double take. (they know!) but he doesn't believe in them, so it's no excuse for a horrible, horrible show.
 
the end?

finding the baby rabbits in the casino

Apr 16, 2013 8:53am had a dream we were in a massive casino, and i had to find the baby rabbits. they were hidden somewhere and i wasn't having any luck. so i sat down at a massive slot machine and instantly won $60,000. and i actually said, "i'm glad this is real and not a dream, huh huh". everyone was mad that i gave up finding the rabbits.

whiskey is the drink of choice for bodyguards

this morning's grand dream(s)

i was watching a tv show. it was a weird "desperate housewives" type of drama about 4 sex crazed neighbors (three ladies and a guy, all married) who got their rocks off watching each other masturbate. of course i wasn't aware of this at first. the guy was basically stalking and using  binoculars and ended up outside a window or sneaking on the house while his neighbor had her private time. eventually each neighbor somehow got involved and caught each other but instead of surprise or outrage, they laughed and crawled under the blankets together. "seems a bit racy for prime-time" i said to myself.

next i'm in a wood paneled series of rooms before a big party. it feels like the 1960s but the decor and clothing look more like the 1930s. i'm being led around and shown all the art and posters on the walls by my hostess and apparently new best friend (we'll call her Maude) who looks like an even more curvy and voluptuous marilyn monroe. she's wearing a sparkly evening gown with a long jacket over the top, with puffs of fur around the sleeves and neck. i'm excited to be at the party and amazed at the cool statues and old timey furniture but i feel underdressed because i'm from the future. she assures me this is not a problem and laughs as the guests begin to arrive.

guests roll in, celebrity after celebrity, camera flashes going off and posing for pictures, except i have no idea who these people are. all of them are introduced to me by maude. they seem to be interested in asking me about the future but maude keeps dragging me away to meet another one. after a while i realize some of the guests aren't celebrities or press but actual old school gangsters. they have a different look. they're all chain smoking and they all have the same type of hat.

eventually the party kicks into high gear and the main doors appear and are opened. there is a large ballroom with two floors, the upper floor with stairs leading up on each side, everything is stained wood. there are people everywhere, drinking and smoking and looking like dick tracy or betty boop. music seems to be playing and it sounds oldey timey. i think people are dancing downstairs.

maude leads me over to meet her 'man', who looks like another older gangster and who is appropriately named Don. don welcomes me and we clink our drinks together.

eventually i make my way over to a crowded corner of the upstairs. there are stacks and stacks of old comics and magazines, everything in near mint condition. old toys, action figures, an amazing array of incredible items and my eyes go wide. when i say old, i mean brand new, because i'm somewhere in the past. i tell don he should let me take some of these to the future to sell them, but he says "if it were only that easy". then i saw a signed comic by an r. crumb type of artist. when i inquire, i am told the r. crumb artist is actually there at the party and promoting his new line of comics. i want to get a signed copy but i need some air. so i head outside.

out behind the building i realize we are on the end of a wharf. there is a parking garage attached to the side opposite the water. part of the ballroom upper floor includes a deck over the water. i see a row of limos and some gangsters standing around and end up in a conversation with one. eventually he says, "whiskey?"
"sure", i say, as he pours me a glass full.
"whiskey is the drink of choice for bodyguards." he says before downing his glass. the others start to chuckle. somehow i realize by bodyguards he meant assassins and i take my drink down in big gulps.

they get caught up in a conversation and i walk towards the water, i see a dark shape moving towards the men. as it gets closer to the surface i can see it's a man in scuba gear with a harpoon gun. before i can alert the gangsters he shoots one of them with the harpoon and they return some bullets. but it all ends as a big net drops down and wraps him up.

now people are yelling and running. i can't see any cops but i know the party was busted. i'm running back in to find maude and don but i wake up.

i know there was a lot more to the dream but this was all i scribbled in the notebook.

the end?

fish in the garage, floating house trailer

latest dream: was trying to get back to the garage of a high school friend (who we'll call skeeter). skeeter had little aquariums with fish and frogs on shelves in the back by the work bench. i had some fish there, somehow, that i had forgotten or left behind. i needed to get them for some reason. it was life or death.

flash forward. i'm giving a presentation on some  university campus. i'm outside near the bicycle parking. people are gathered around and i am trying to finish quickly because i need to get the fish in my backpack to the garage.

flash forward. i'm in some major home improvement store. i need to get supplies for something and need to get the fish out of my backpack, the container is leaking. jeff martin is there, he insists i take this dust covered book full of record label addresses (which i insist is outdated). but i take it anyway, so he doesn't get angry.

flash forward. i'm in the van and it's after a show. i realize i forgot the fish and check on them, the container is out of water but they are somehow still alive.

flash forward. i'm back in the garage and running to the back. i get the fish into the aquarium but the other fish that i left there look dead. i see his beta's are having a live birth but skeeter is unaware. somehow i accidentally let all the frogs out. i try to catch them but they are everywhere, under the big dark blue van behind me, under the workbench. skeeter tells me not to worry about them.

at some point later i am dreaming another dream. it's night time, we're in the middle of a grassy field with a small river winding through it. there is one spotlight off to the left. hundreds of old people are gathered around and barb and i are mixed in there.

suddenly there is a house trailer floating above the opposite side of the river. a small rope ladder leads up to a door. everyone starts clamoring to get on the ladder. i'm being pushed and pulled from both directions and i start yelling and throwing punches. whoever is at the front can't get the door open and the house trailer floats back and the ladder breaks, but it doesn't fall. i have to turn the ladder into a metal staircase using my mind but first everyone has to get back on the ground. this seems to take forever.

the end?

bot fly larvae & cough medicine

i've been sick as a dog for the past week. then i had this dream this morning.

i was in a kitchen that was different but similar. i took about twice the normal dose of cough medicine because i was feeling so bad. i went to put the pitcher away and when i looked down at my arm, i saw a little worm sticking straight out of it. it looked like the worms you might see when biting into an apple. i grabbed it and pulled it all the way out. the worm was a dull yellow with a black head. it was dead and stiff as a board. on the butt end of it was a clear plastic looking wrap, covering a string of identically round piles of worm dook. about 8 of them. the hole in my arm where the worm had been was pink and deep.

when i went to throw the thing in the trash, i looked at my other arm and there were about 20 of them. all sticking up and out. then i checked under my shirt and there were more. some had been squished when they came out. i was in a mild panic, trying to get to them all. they were starting to fall on teh floor. i knew that the cough medicine had been too much for them. i also knew they were bot flies who never matured but continued to live under my skin after our trip to the amazon.

barb came home but as soon as i tried to tell her about it she held up her hand in my face. "gross! don't even talk about it" the end?


this vide captures how i have been feeling on cough medicine

Orange Goblin - A Eulogy for the Fans Review

wrote this for my bros at the Soda Shop. check them out.
 http://www.thesodashop.us/2013/03/16/album-review-orange-goblin-a-eulogy-for-the-fans/


by Steve Janiak
Recorded live at Bloodstock Open Air Festival in 2012, A Eulogy For The Fans is Orange Goblin’s first crack at a live album, and they do not disappoint. The warts-and-all approach suits these hell-raising English lads: it kicks off at full steam, cranked to 11, and rarely lets up. Make no mistake: this is the sound of getting your ass kicked.

Orange Goblin are the bastard children of Motörhead and Black Sabbath, with satisfying, reptilian-brain riffs and powerful, caveman wails from “Big” Ben Ward. With less of a nod to their more drug-induced, psychedelic past, A Eulogy For The Fans steamrolls through pile driver after pile driver, with two thirds of the album coming from the three previous records; Eulogy for the Damned(2012), Healing Through Fire(2007), and Thieving from the House of God(2004).

 Only two songs in, it already feels like a week-long coke binge, driving  top speed on the autobahn, passing locomotives in a blur and flying over the edge into a Valhalla of heavy metal fire. “I feel like I’m losing my mind!” Ward screams in “Ballad of Solomon Eagle.” Indeed, it feels like we’re locked together in a padded cell and our only salvation is more blistering heavy metal.

By the time I get to the classic “Time Traveling Blues,” the title track from their 1999 album, I’m transported back in time to Orange Goblin’s younger days, when their southern rock roots were shamelessly (and gloriously) on display. The only song on the entire disc with a laid back, relaxed groove, this song shows the depth that lurks under the bombast of the live Orange Goblin experience.

The carnage picks back up with “Some You Win, Some You Lose.” At some point it dawns on me that Orange Goblin have been a ‘one guitar band’ for close to 10 years, but not a drop of rock and roll fury has been left behind. Joe Hoare (guitars) and Martyn Millard (bass) fill the nooks and crannies between the big riffs like crazed Renaissance masters, while drummer Chris Turner deftly keeps the insanity on an even keel. These chaps have been doing it for quite a while now and the chemistry is thick and palpable.

Other highlights include the excellent lumbering doom of “The Fog” and the manic tension of “Acid Trial,” with its’ spooky refrain: “Nothing is Real!”

Eventually I get to the sweet dessert of the platter, the unforgettable OG of OG: “Blue Snow,” (from Time Traveling Blues) followed by “Quincy the Pigboy” and “Scorpionica” (both from the 2000 masterpiece The Big Black). While the latter two may be a bit rougher around the edges in terms of vocals, the effortless energy never wavers. The beast that is Orange Goblin came and conquered another stage and another crowd, only this time there is a live record to prove it. Well done, gentlemen.

Braco's Earth Walker

Had a dream I went to a retreat in the woods. The guest speaker was Braco the gazer, the Croatian healer guy. There was a mess of Grateful Dead chicks and granola bearded dudes everywhere. Braco was taking questions for a while (and speaking English) and I got bored and went to check out the food selection. They had a coffee shop looking counter and wall built into a giant tree. On a blackboard behind was the menu. I’m still deciding and Braco comes around the corner. Apparently they let him go get his food before the masses but I’m already there. I asked him some trivial question and we talked for a minute. Then he ordered his food and I said I would have the same. They served us what looked like a giant earth turd inside a huge dark green leaf. Like an Odwalla bar made out of dirt and roots. Allegedly it was really good for us.

After we ate, he motioned for me to follow him. He walked through the crowd and we passed some weird, pastel polo shirt wearing, preppy dudes. They looked like they just stepped out of an 80’s movie with the feathered hair and the whole bit. A dude saw me and asked “Is that really Peyton Manning?”

“How the f***would I know?” I said. I looked over and saw the back of what looked like Peyton Manning’s head, he was sitting at a table with someone who looked like Eli Manning, munching away on some granola or something.

The preppy guy then says, “What is the deal with this food?”

I replied, “It’s food for hippies, man. I heard they even wear sandals in the summertime, hahaha,” before walking off.

 I followed Braco to some private area, and he told me they had been expecting me. He went on to say that he needed me to be his ‘Earth Walker’ and I needed to spread the healing. But I was also required to sell these wooden tv cabinets that were self-dusting. The self-dusting part only worked if you convinced the buyer they worked, because it was the belief itself that scientifically kept a protective, anti-dust energy field around the wood. This field also prevented rot and mold. I was on my knees in the grass, wiping dust off this cabinet, thinking that I wasn’t going to be able to convince anyone. I couldn’t wait to tell Jeff Martin so he could make fun of me. There was supposed to be more, but someone woke me up. The end?