January 2nd, 2014

pensive

Creepy dream

I had a creepy dream last night. It was one of those ones that was creepy but entertaining, and so not really scary; probably because a part of me knew the whole time I was dreaming.

Anyway, it was taking place at a house similar to the one we used to live in at Wiota, Iowa. In it, I had the upcoming Night Vale book, but not only was it already out, it was decades old and bound in light brown leather with peeling gold lettering. I got the sense it had been written by someone else, ages before the podcast started coming out, and neither artist knew of the other, so it wasn't plagiarism, it was like Night Vale was real somewhere and telling two different people in different eras about itself.

But that wasn't the creepy bit. The creepy part began when the book rang like a phone. I answered it, and there was this creepy Asian kid on the other end. How I know he was Asian, I don't know, because he had an American accent, but somehow I knew he was Asian in heritage; Chinese-American, I think, but I'm not sure.

Anyway, the kid talked in a creepy way. I don't remember anything he said, but I do remember occasionally he would draw out words, for instance instead of saying "I want to feel your heart," he would say "I want to feeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllll your hearrrrrrrrrrrrrtttttt" (though as I say, I don't remember anything he actually said. I pulled that for-instance out of thin air).

After he talked long enough for me to be thoroughly creeped out, I hung up the book and told my younger sister Tara not to answer it if it rang again. Then some other stuff happened, boring stuff that I don't remember. But it did ring again at one point and Tara answered it and then hung up. Then more boring stuff happened and I found myself reading the book (as opposed to using it as a telephone), and the poems in it were so awesome that I was actually trying to control my real body to grab some paper and write them down. I kept thinking how awesome it would be to share poems on my blog that my subconscious mind had dreamed up. And if I could have consciously controlled my body while still asleep as I wanted to, I don't doubt I could have done it, and the poems would have been real words and from what I remember, would have made sense.

See, my friend Brooke says that when she dreams, she can read but there are no actual words. But me, I can see real words. The level of detail in my dreams is high enough that getting trapped in the dream world and never being able to wake up is a legitimate fear of mine. Hell, I even once read a sign in Spanish in a dream once; I knew it was Spanish, and I could tell the sign would make sense if I knew Spanish, but I couldn't read it. Despite the fact I consciously know very little Spanish, I feel certain that if I could have remembered what the sign said and written it down upon waking, that I could have gotten a translation. I doubt the sign would have made much sense, but who knows... maybe it would have. I mean, how weird would it be if I could see perfectly-written signs in dreams that are written in languages I don't know how to speak or understand when awake? It would be very weird, and also very cool.

Anyway... when the Night Vale book comes out at last (some time in 2015, I think), if it's bound in tan leather with gold lettering, that would be creep-tastic.

This was cross-posted from http://fayanora.dreamwidth.org/1198922.html
You can comment either here or there.
Elle looks up

A discussion

Lilla and I just had a discussion just now that started with me telling her about a news item where a man paid $150 for a toy poodle and got some steroid-enhanced ferret instead. The discussion basically amounted to me expressing my confusion at why anyone would pay $150 for a dog, but the same confusion applies to cats and other small pets, and her trying to explain it.

But you know, I think it's just one of those things I don't understand about humans and never will. Like, okay: I can understand if you need a specific breed for a specific task, because for instance golden retrievers make the best service dogs and huskies make the best dogs for pulling sleds. But for a pet... a dog is a dog and a cat is a cat. What does it matter what breed it is, if all you need it for is a pet? The only time, as far as I can see, that one would need a specific breed of animal as a pet is if you're allergic to, say, cats and you thus need a Sphinx cat. Even if you want a small dog that fits in your purse, those can be found at rescue centers.

She did explain to me that dog personalities can be bred, so certain breeds can be preferred for their personalities. But this doesn't help, really; I'm still dumbfounded by the whole phenomenon. It seems to me that other people don't value money as much as having a certain kind of dog. Maybe I'm just cheap from being poor all my life, but I would never pay more than $20 for any kind of pet. I would probably laugh at anyone who tried to sell me any pet more expensive than that. Even if I had money to fritter away on pointless stuff like being picky about dog breeds.

Not that I would ever have a dog; I'm afraid of most dogs, and disgusted by the ones that I'm not afraid of. And my personality is not suited to dogs anyway; dogs have WAY too much energy, they're disgusting slobbery gits, and there's just something about them beyond those considerations that feels Wrong to me. I might some day get a cat again, but I will never ever get a dog.

But like I said, the same idea applies to cats. It's even stronger where cats are concerned, in fact, because there's very little difference, from what I can tell, in personality from one cat breed to another. About the only difference I've ever heard in cats is that Siamese cats are more 'talkative' than other breeds.

This was cross-posted from http://fayanora.dreamwidth.org/1199328.html
You can comment either here or there.