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So, um... I just woke up from a very strange dream. I'd say "that teaches me to nap in the middle of the afternoon", but I've got a headache and that's the reason I was napping anyway, so really it doesn't. It does, however, make me wonder about the bizarre state of my brain. Because the whole thing was faintly disturbing, in a rather detached sort of way, until the very end, where it'd sort of become normal again, only to hit me with... well... horror-movie bad-lighting bizarre-situation disturbing. Which actually caused me to scream (after about fifteen seconds of thought, which probably would've meant I'd be killed in a regular horror movie).
I can't quite pinpoint the start, so I'll go with the order I remember it in. I was in this large classroom, sort of like the one where I had my Shakespeare class today (which has the move uncomfortable chairs ever, and they are what gave me this headache, I suspect). We were having some sort of giant lecture on writing fiction, and this girl sitting in this sort of alcove in the corner was reading what she'd written, which was this long sort of diary-like remembering of this horrific scene from a male narrator's point of view. His date to the prom had been shot, and he described it in great detail, how the bullet had gone into her head a certain way, and he was glad it hadn't hit the nerves in her neck, because it would've made it worse, but it did go through her brain, which was disgusting. And then there was some part about how every time he counted to ten, he remembered more vividly, and then he started counting to ten, but he didn't get past four before this guy sitting near the back dressed all in purple chirped up with "Mr. (I forget the professor's name), if this is all you have for us today, I'm going to get going." So the girl reading her story just stopped in her tracks, and most of the class just sort of sat there. A few had the decency to look annoyed, and then another girl stood up and said "I'd better be going, too" and class basically ended. I apologized to the girl for them, even though I didn't know them, and told her her story had been really good, then left. As I was leaving, I could hear some girl asking if she needed to worry about copyright once she started experimenting with the things she'd learned in class, "like if I started writing in foreign languages, could someone sue me?"
Getting back outside involved walking across all sorts of strange little bridges, and every time I did, I ended up behind this guy walking his dog. We had some sort of conversation about it, and I always jumped down the last step and tried to stick the landing, because it made me feel better, more stable or something. I only stuck about two, out of four or five, and wobbled into walls when I didn't stick the landing.
From there, I went outside and got on a schoolbus with a bunch of other girls that I kind of sort of knew. I think there was a guy or two along as well. As we were getting on the bus, the driver warned us not to sit near the front, because it was really gross and she didn't know what it was. It looked like someone had dumped pig's intestine soup or squid or something all over the floor near the front, and there was plastic covering most of it up, though we all had to squeeze past a garbage pail to get into the back of the bus. There was also a thick dark grease on some of the seats that I accidentally put my hand in as I walked by. Once we were all on the bus, we started talking about what the mess could be, and since all the windows were open we could smell it, too. I was pretty freaked out by the grease I'd gotten on my hands, but the guy in the group insisted it was probably engine grease. I told him I didn't think it smelled like engine grease, and he made fun of me because I only knew what motorcycle engine grease smelled like.
And somehow I either ended up somewhere else, or I was rehearsing something with them right there, because I was going over a play with people. I think I was directing it or something like that, or perhaps doing a movie, because later on I was doing sound mixing. Or at least attempting. It had something to do with FMA, because I was... I must've been playing the part of Hughes, because I was arguing with some other head of state over something Amestris had done while worrying that the actor I'd cast was nodding his head either way too much, or not at all. Then when I was playing with the sound later, I was trying to get separate channels for two Als and two Eds, even though I didn't have the mics for them and couldn't adjust the levels to recognize their voices or something. And I recorded something experimentally while someone on my friendslist (this is basically how my brain identified her, so it wasn't anyone I actually know, either... weird) watched. Since she hadn't made out what I'd said the first time I recorded it, even though I'd stopped to shout something down the street, we replayed it. I know what I shouted down the street was "LOVE!", in response to someone singing the messed-up version of that Fall-Out Boy song (not as a proclamation of love, but as the next word somehow). And there was also a line like "love is rocks on eBay" or "love rocks eBay". Whatever it was, it didn't make sense in the dream, either.
Next thing I remember, I was walking back from Midway Studios (where I sat in on all the art classes) with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chocolatemoose. I think we were discussing something about my play/movie, and then I followed her into her room, because for some reason she lived in BJ. I walked in, and she went into her living room, and I went to take a shower or something, but I couldn't turn the water off in the sink. We were talking about her parents or something, and how I was going to have to break up with her for their sake, because... something (this was obviously not a well-developed point). After this, I finally got the water off, and for some reason I knew I was alone in the room, but something felt weird, so I walked out into the little hallway between the bathroom and the rest of the room (which was different now), and it was really dark. There was a piece missing from the window or something, and I either turned on the light, or the light suddenly came on, revealing this huge mirror that'd been broken, and it took me a second to realize it'd been broken in this really scary clown-face shape. So I screamed, and wondered who would do this, and if it was really my room. Then I stood there and wondered if there was anyone else around, and if I should pick up one of the shards to use it in self defense. Then, somehow, I calmly decided I should get out of the room before anything scary happened, and then I woke up. That mirror was probably the scariest image I've had in a dream since... I dunno, first year. I wonder what it meant.
I can't quite pinpoint the start, so I'll go with the order I remember it in. I was in this large classroom, sort of like the one where I had my Shakespeare class today (which has the move uncomfortable chairs ever, and they are what gave me this headache, I suspect). We were having some sort of giant lecture on writing fiction, and this girl sitting in this sort of alcove in the corner was reading what she'd written, which was this long sort of diary-like remembering of this horrific scene from a male narrator's point of view. His date to the prom had been shot, and he described it in great detail, how the bullet had gone into her head a certain way, and he was glad it hadn't hit the nerves in her neck, because it would've made it worse, but it did go through her brain, which was disgusting. And then there was some part about how every time he counted to ten, he remembered more vividly, and then he started counting to ten, but he didn't get past four before this guy sitting near the back dressed all in purple chirped up with "Mr. (I forget the professor's name), if this is all you have for us today, I'm going to get going." So the girl reading her story just stopped in her tracks, and most of the class just sort of sat there. A few had the decency to look annoyed, and then another girl stood up and said "I'd better be going, too" and class basically ended. I apologized to the girl for them, even though I didn't know them, and told her her story had been really good, then left. As I was leaving, I could hear some girl asking if she needed to worry about copyright once she started experimenting with the things she'd learned in class, "like if I started writing in foreign languages, could someone sue me?"
Getting back outside involved walking across all sorts of strange little bridges, and every time I did, I ended up behind this guy walking his dog. We had some sort of conversation about it, and I always jumped down the last step and tried to stick the landing, because it made me feel better, more stable or something. I only stuck about two, out of four or five, and wobbled into walls when I didn't stick the landing.
From there, I went outside and got on a schoolbus with a bunch of other girls that I kind of sort of knew. I think there was a guy or two along as well. As we were getting on the bus, the driver warned us not to sit near the front, because it was really gross and she didn't know what it was. It looked like someone had dumped pig's intestine soup or squid or something all over the floor near the front, and there was plastic covering most of it up, though we all had to squeeze past a garbage pail to get into the back of the bus. There was also a thick dark grease on some of the seats that I accidentally put my hand in as I walked by. Once we were all on the bus, we started talking about what the mess could be, and since all the windows were open we could smell it, too. I was pretty freaked out by the grease I'd gotten on my hands, but the guy in the group insisted it was probably engine grease. I told him I didn't think it smelled like engine grease, and he made fun of me because I only knew what motorcycle engine grease smelled like.
And somehow I either ended up somewhere else, or I was rehearsing something with them right there, because I was going over a play with people. I think I was directing it or something like that, or perhaps doing a movie, because later on I was doing sound mixing. Or at least attempting. It had something to do with FMA, because I was... I must've been playing the part of Hughes, because I was arguing with some other head of state over something Amestris had done while worrying that the actor I'd cast was nodding his head either way too much, or not at all. Then when I was playing with the sound later, I was trying to get separate channels for two Als and two Eds, even though I didn't have the mics for them and couldn't adjust the levels to recognize their voices or something. And I recorded something experimentally while someone on my friendslist (this is basically how my brain identified her, so it wasn't anyone I actually know, either... weird) watched. Since she hadn't made out what I'd said the first time I recorded it, even though I'd stopped to shout something down the street, we replayed it. I know what I shouted down the street was "LOVE!", in response to someone singing the messed-up version of that Fall-Out Boy song (not as a proclamation of love, but as the next word somehow). And there was also a line like "love is rocks on eBay" or "love rocks eBay". Whatever it was, it didn't make sense in the dream, either.
Next thing I remember, I was walking back from Midway Studios (where I sat in on all the art classes) with
chocolatemoose. I think we were discussing something about my play/movie, and then I followed her into her room, because for some reason she lived in BJ. I walked in, and she went into her living room, and I went to take a shower or something, but I couldn't turn the water off in the sink. We were talking about her parents or something, and how I was going to have to break up with her for their sake, because... something (this was obviously not a well-developed point). After this, I finally got the water off, and for some reason I knew I was alone in the room, but something felt weird, so I walked out into the little hallway between the bathroom and the rest of the room (which was different now), and it was really dark. There was a piece missing from the window or something, and I either turned on the light, or the light suddenly came on, revealing this huge mirror that'd been broken, and it took me a second to realize it'd been broken in this really scary clown-face shape. So I screamed, and wondered who would do this, and if it was really my room. Then I stood there and wondered if there was anyone else around, and if I should pick up one of the shards to use it in self defense. Then, somehow, I calmly decided I should get out of the room before anything scary happened, and then I woke up. That mirror was probably the scariest image I've had in a dream since... I dunno, first year. I wonder what it meant. 
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