cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (perfect)
Last night I had that type of dream where you are trying to wake up but you can't quite wake up all the way, but as a result become intermittently aware that you are dreaming. This happens to me kind of a lot - I think it has to do with my medication.

Anyway, I was trying to make a Journey Towards Wakefulness - that's how my brain chose to conceptualize this struggle - and as I did all this, crawling under half-built buildings, hacking through mangrove swamps and climbing out the windows of a haunted house while pursued by my aunt's neighbors, you know, Just Dreaming Things - I was accompanied by [personal profile] waxjism acting more-or-less in character: snarky asides, the occasional baffled question or apparently falling into an introspective daze and having to be dragged or prodded along.

So at one point me'n'Wax ran into some girls I'd known in high school and one of them was like, "Yeah, but since you're dreaming and trying to wake up, that's not the real Wax, it's just an imaginary one."

And I said defensively, "I KNOW, but I just like to keep her with me!" and clutched protectively at her arm.

Then they went away eventually and I confided in dream Wax, "It's just always nicer if you're here."

Dream!Wax: "Yeah sure."
Real!Wax, being told: (laughed so hard she threw her head back.)


24 Sep 2013 06:15 am
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (water)
I was just dreaming that I was a magician librarian in a giant library where all the librarians were magicians, and we had suddenly developed a problem with giant sinister androids that looked like Krusty the Clown with green skin, but about 8 feet tall, who were frequently opening interdimensional portals and coming through to destroy bits of the library and then flee.

So when I woke up I'd just linked arms with 4 other librarians and we were loudly singing an impromptu battle song as we marched towards the interdimensional portal, which was on the floor among the children's books, and then I suddenly woke up. Wide awake, but with a really lame anti-android battle song stuck in my head.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (cuddle time)
Last night I dreamt that I had had insomnia and was unable to fall asleep, and then the next thing I knew I was waking up in a large taxi. In the taxi were a couple of classmates from my current summer class as well as a couple of strangers and a girl I used to be friends with when I was like 10, but we stopped talking to each other after that. In the dream the taxi was driving around Turku in the evening taking everybody home and I got seriously alarmed because I didn't remember or know how I got there: I kept saying "the last thing I remember I was at home!" and asking the other people how I got on, and when, but nobody really answered. They kept starting to answer me, and then getting distracted by the rest of their conversation which was quite lively. The whole time I had no idea that I was dreaming (unusual for me!) and kept getting more and more alarmed, trying to logically analyze what could have happened.


3 Feb 2012 10:28 pm
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (ily / stfu)
So I have a lot of recurring dreams that take place in some section or other of this mutated place made up of all the places I've lived smushed together, and I've been trying to draw a map of it for the past few hours and as far as I can figure it must be stretched around the surface of a Möbius strip.

Although I might be able to figure out its actual shape if I started by putting buildings and locations on index cards and trying to arrange them in relation to each other.

With magnets on a giant Möbius strip.

The actual motivation for this activity is that lately I've been stuck in the wrong parts of Dreamland a lot, when I'm there - mainly the ones related to my hometown - and I've been trying (even when I'm asleep) to figure out how to navigate back to this one really cool part that boasts, among other things, a kind of hidden folded-space gateway to this fantasy landscape place which is pretty at the best of times and one time I had a dream there that involved pirate galleons and tame dragons, a kind of Dinotopia/Temeraire thing. Understandably, I would rather get back to that part, but it's hard to remember where I was going when I'm asleep. I tend to forget that I'm dreaming and get caught up in the plot. :/
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (tell me more)
I dreamt that my parents put a small graveyard in their backyard, and that Terry Pratchett killed off Aziraphale in his next book and a woman I'd never liked anyway spoiled me the day after its release by calling there and asking for a tombstone for him even though he was a fictional character. Also they had a Halloween party which was ruined by a haunted electric guitar which danced around the house twanging itself and which nobody could catch, not even with the advice of the full orchestra installed in the second bathroom. Also then the thing ended with Sam/Gabriel from Dean's POV as they arrived to de-haunt the place.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (fun)
Last night I dreamt that my high school-graduating IB class was putting on a play of Pride & Prejudice. I was one of the extras, I think. When I woke up we were getting "Team Pemberley" ballcaps, and I was arguing that they ought to have said "Team Longbourne".

I would totally wear one of those.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (flirty)
For most of my dream last night my cousins and I were searching the freezer bins at Food World in increasing desperation for the perfect mint and chocolate icecream to buy.

But at the end, I found out my eldest cousin used to be into cannibalism. As a kink. (Please note: he isn't really.) (I'm not sure what that kink is actually called though.) Then I woke up.

I would really like some mint chocolate chip icecream right now, though. Maybe in a chocolate cookie sandwich.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (coffee)
The night before last I dreamt that I wore my midriff-baring winged cat tshirt to a job interview and told them "I know it's inappropriate, but it's such a great shirt that I couldn't not wear it!"
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (determined)
After last week's chat with [ profile] bexless's lovely husband about Russell T. Davies and the future of Torchwood, last night I had a pretty amazing dream about it!

I dreamt that RTD left the show and they hired Joe Flanigan, Rachel Luttrell, and Jason Momoa, and made the show a crossover where they were still playing Sheppard, Teyla, and Ronon! The three of them had joined the main TW team in Cardiff, and in a shocking season finale, some completely unsuspected ninja bad guys walked up out of nowhere and assassinated Ronon right in front of the rest of the team's eyes as he was walking towards a building. It was like kind of mafia-ish. Sheppard and Teyla immediately called up Rodney, who was in North America working on Science still, and they went rogue/badass and set out to take the entire organization down - without the knowledge of the rest of the TW team, which was still just trying to find out what happened, not KILLKILLKILL.

(Wax pointed out that Jack would totally help, but he wasn't present in the dream - I think he was temporarily out when it happened, and Gwen was leading the team, which consisted of her, Tosh, Owen, and Martha. Man, I would love to watch that.) I didn't get to see the rest of the plot, though. They were actually all at a really fancy dinner gala when I woke up.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (princess)
  • I signed up for RemixRedux this year! Signups are open a few more days I think. It kind of surprised me, because I've resolved to Finish More Things and also to learn to write more than one thing at once this year, but I haven't made a great deal of progress on that front yet and I've been feeling kind of apprehensive and uncertain about writing ever since I had to break off mid-WIP to write my Yuletide fic. The signup was impulsive, really, but maybe it will get me back in gear.

  • I recently had a dream where my family and I were talking about my grandfather's death - which is unusual because I don't usually dream realistic things about recent events in my life - and in the dream it hit me all at once and I started crying: I woke myself up sobbing. When I woke up I was gasping for breath, but not really crying, which is also unusual, because when I've woken myself up crying before, my face has always been wet. I went back to sleep, and when I thought about it the next day and since then, I haven't been able to recapture the intense and visceral grief of the dream.

    I don't know if the emotion is there underneath, somewhere inaccessible to my waking mind perhaps, or if my waking experience of regret and mild sadness is my "true" emotional reaction and that was just a fanciful fluke, perhaps my subconscious experimenting since I've thought several times about how little loss I feel, and how intellectual instead of emotional, compared to how it felt when my grandmother died when I was eight. Even though I genuinely liked him and think he was quite a cool guy, I have to really cudgel my brain to remember even two or three moments when I have felt even slightly touched by an emotional closeness with him. He just didn't have a lot of... warmth, and I never really got the feeling that he was especially attached to me, either. He was charming and friendly, and at times even generous, but fundamentally overwhelmingly self-involved.

  • Speaking of crying, I finished watching all of the Midsomer Murders ever (although they're still supposed to be making a new season now, which I think is funny since their star retired and they're continuing ANYWAY, yet apparently they can't find the money to make ONE MORE SEASON of Poirot starring David Suchet even though they've almost filmed all the stories after 22 fucking years). A couple of things happened as a result of said finishing:

    1. I saw a behind-the-scenes special and fell desperately in love with Jason Hughes's adorable Welsh accent! He is from Porthcawl, South Wales, apparently, and he sounds different from most of the people on Torchwood, and rather more adorable to my ear, like the difference between Cillian Murphy's incredibly soft lilting speech (he is from County Cork I think, like [ profile] kessie, who also sounds heart-stoppingly lovely btw) and the much more familiar (to me) accent of Colm Meaney, who IMDb informs me is from Dublin. I'm toying with the idea of finding some Welsh TV just so I can listen to more more more Welsh accents. Maybe Scottish or Irish too? Does anyone have any recs for any or all of these? I hate reality tv, dislike sitcoms and endless relationship drama, and love any kind of mysteries or crime shows.

    2. I started watching the original (1971-1975) Upstairs, Downstairs. I didn't realize that Jean Marsh was so beautiful or that Gordon Jackson was so attractive, but I can't take my eyes off either of them, and the last time I cried as much at tv as I did at series 1 would be when I watched Hikaru no Go in 2007 or so.

  • I've been to several therapy meetings with Dr Petit-Chou, and I think it is going well. I like him. We're nearly done with the introductory phase. This week will be the last part of it and then it will be time to make a plan for how to proceed with the cognitive behavioral therapy itself. I'm... sort of excited? So far my main concern has been my tendency to babble. That is, I know you're supposed to talk about yourself, but we are limited to an hour at a time and I tend to go off on tangents.

  • I didn't mention here when a few weeks ago I was tweeting at a bus stop and dropped my phone, jerking out the headphone cord and blasting a pairing fanmix that I had the bad luck to be listening to just then. I favored the entire bus stop, little old ladies and hipsters included, with a good ten or fifteen seconds of Hilary Duff while I fumbled endlessly with freezing cold hands trying to figure out how to turn the sound off. As a result of this I've finally programmed a hotkey to play-pause the media player. XD
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (um excuse me)
So far I've been taking Effexor for a month or so, and it has given me reason to be cautiously optimistic. It has two really noticeable side-effects which are... not exactly bad so much as irritating and piquant, respectively.

I. Appetite

[personal profile] waxjism lost a bunch of weight on Effexor. What happened to me is that I can't go more than about four hours without eating (but I can't then eat a big meal - it's impossible to get through a 24-hour period on one giant "dinner" and one very small snack-sized "breakfast", like I did most of last summer when I wasn't on any meds). Eating multiple small meals is supposed to be more healthy anyway, but the medication enforces it.

I get so hungry that I can't concentrate on anything after 4-5 hours of no food, even if I've been drinking tea or even popping occasional candies in my mouth all along; and if I start to overeat, I feel faintly nauseated. (When presented with half a delicious pizza on the ferry from Sweden, I only was able to eat about 2/3. Last summer I'd've eaten the whole thing and then lain in bed moaning that I hate feeling full.)

The problem is that I hate being interrupted in whatever I'm doing to stop and eat so frequently. Eating is usually a chore for me, with exception only for the times when I get to eat one of my very favorite foods. Also I'm kind of lazy about preparing food. It's just not practical to cook that often so for the past month I've been eating tons of single servings of oatmeal or egg noodles or open-face sandwiches, which is about the right size of meal. But that's a really boring diet. I think the long-term solution may require that I plan what I'm doing in advance and cook and divide the food up in portions. :( But I really suck at planning, like, really.

II. Sleeping & Dreaming

The doctor asked if I have a history of insomnia, which I don't, so clearly Effexor has known sleep effects. It doesn't make it any harder for me to fall asleep, weirdly. But what it does seem to do is make it much easier for me to wake up. When I first started I would wake up very briefly about a billion times per night, at what I think was the end of each sleep cycle, before falling right back to sleep again. Now the short wake-ups are starting to blur together into a routine, but I still notice them.

Also my dreams have been startlingly vivid, and not just that, but I think I'm maybe not dreaming as... deeply, because I keep having dreams where I'm apparently struggling to remember that I'm dreaming. This results in a lot of dreams where I have to exert an effort to remember that I can control the dream, and these efforts sometimes work and sometimes don't as I sort of get distracted and forget that I'm dreaming. Also I keep waking myself up by physically mirroring the movements that I made in the dream, or even that one time when I woke myself up by speaking, which are both things that have never happened to me before. Last night I dreamed a witch was trying to drag me out of a fairy tale cottage's open door into a sinister alternate universe and I woke myself up by kicking [the witch] quite vigorously three times. I felt my foot bounce back onto the mattress, which jolted me awake!
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (summer)
I dreamt I had the ability to send myself or other people short distances back in time, either in the same place or back along their personal timelines to the place they'd been then, but sending them too far gave me a migraine. In the dream five minutes was easy, a few seconds was effortless, but six hours was near-impossible. Still, that'd be a pretty awesome super power.

For the past several weeks I've been rereading Roger Zelazny's A Night in the Lonesome October, which is one of the most fun books I've got around (I've got to get my own copy of Bring Me The Head of Prince Charming). That's why I've been savoring it and also why I like to leave quite a few years between rereads, so I don't remember every detail. No one could forget the dog protagonist and his canine/feline romance, or Jack the Ripper as hero, or the Elder Gods, but I'd forgotten that the villain is a rural vicar and that it contains a fairly awesome Sherlock Holmes appearance.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (nancy bloody drew)
Last night for the first time ever I had what started along the lines of a nightmare and then turned around into victory! Victory that I caused! By fighting back! (It's not that I've never dreamt anything like a conflict where I fought back and/or was victorious before, but not in a nightmare.)

One of the Recurring Dream Places I dream about a lot is this privately-owned nature park place that has some farms and cottages, some nice stone ruins, and a little museum and gift shop, and on whose grounds my dad's step-cousin Carolyn owns a summer house. (I don't know why. My dreams about this recurring place usually involve her summer house, even when she isn't home, and it always looks more or less the same, even though I haven't seen Carolyn IRL since 2002 and she doesn't have a summer house.) Last night I dreamed I took my parents to visit it for the first time, and Daddy was in his wheelchair just like in reality. (NB I have dreamt about being there with my parents before, but in the dream I knew it was their first visit. Also, it's always a toss-up in my dreams whether his quadriplegia exists or not.) How Cim & the Secret Underwater Kindergarten Triumphed over the Ninja Assassins and the Forces of the Asshole Ableist Nature Park )
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (jane doe)
I had another nightmare last night, but this one wasn't the wake up screaming kind; it was more of an anxiety nightmare, and not too severe. In this nightmare I was accompanied by the lovely [personal profile] pierydys! I've known her for several years, but I think it's the first time she's made a guest appearance in my dreams. (Then again, I've never met [personal profile] astolat or [personal profile] phosfate in person at all and that didn't stop me from dreaming about them taking over the world, or driving me away from the scene of a crime on their motorcycle, respectively.)

Read more... )
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (cim'n'wax)
Wow, that was a seriously freakishly vivid dream. I used to have alarmingly vivid dreams in which nothing really happened (like dreams where I spaced out while wading into a pond or making a sandwich and when I woke up the only think I could really remember was the sandwich-making part), but it's like Effexor speeds my sleep cycle. I wake up countless times during the night and then fall back to sleep pretty effortlessly again. This is the first time I've noticed the effect on dreams though:

In the dream I came partly awake, enough to realize that it didn't make sense and I wasn't controlling my surroundings, but I didn't know that I was asleep. I thought I was in a computer program. (Obviously a sophisticated VR program, too.)Read more... )

At that point Wax said "2003? Well it must be at least 2006."

I turned to her in horror. "What? In the real world it's 2010! We got married last year!"

She just looked at me blankly. She was wearing a pale blue tshirt and I said "We only bought this t-shirt last summer! And you're wearing your newest pair of glasses - you didn't even have them in 2006. You've lost weight since then! And your earring -" and then I noticed she only had one hole pierced in her ear for some reason, and then I freaked out and yelled, "And where is the stud in your eyebrow and the ring in your other eyebrow?" (She doesn't have piercings in her eyebrows. She does, however, have two holes in one ear and one in the other, which seems to be what my brain was groping for.)

"Baby," she said with a Waxy air of tolerant amusement, "I don't know about that."

"But you've got to be really Wax! Please say you're the real Wax!" I cried in sudden panic, seizing her shoulders.

She said, "I'm a projection -" and made a smirk that Wax never makes. It filled me with such visceral horror that I flew into a panicked rage at her for impersonating real Wax.

"You're not a projection! You're part of a video game that thinks it's at the Huntsville Space Center, but that's not even true!" I screamed. I picked up the projection of Wax by the shoulders and discovered that it weighed nothing. I turned it 90° in the air and it just went. I twisted, and it balled up like a piece of metallic paper. Suddenly the hospital was gone; I was standing beside a giant fountain, and I flung it into the water. "I got here by climbing into a television! You're nothing but a program! A program that contains--"

By this point I had gathered so much steam that in the dream I was hoarse. And I woke myself up when I heard myself say "contains" actually out loud. (Not a scream though, just... a hoarse mumble.)

Suddenly I was wide awake, staring at the ceiling like @_@, freaked the fuck out, and remembering the whole dream. I lay there, cartoonishly wide awake yet not yet aware enough to command my limbs to move, until I realized... one of my hands was still balled into a fist where I'd grabbed Wax's shoulder with it. The other hand was bent up and I was touching my own eyebrow with just two fingers where I'd touched Wax's face looking for the imaginary piercing.

...and then I stumbled out of bed to write it down.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (pastoral)
Last night I dreamed my 8th grade English teacher was in charge of a class that included me and all the fictional characters in media fandom, and she put me in a group with Ronon, Teyla, and Gwen from Merlin and then assigned us dust (literally: dust) as an essay topic. I was so pissed off that I started ranting at her - "I can't write an essay about DUST!" - but unfortunately for me, Ronon was laid-back and Gwen and Teyla were too nice, and kept saying they were sure it would be fine, while she assigned other groups topics such as Spaceballs and romance novels.

She wouldn't listen to me, and actually seemed kind of smug - although this particular teacher never did it, you know that way teachers do, when you're the ONLY one who ever has the answer, and they've just decided not to listen to you, as if it's your fault that nobody else will raise their hand and apparently nobody else even knows because they keep calling on other people who guess wrong, and then they finally tell someone else the answer, rather than calling on you at all, and then they're like "Look at my awesome teaching skills, I got someone other than Cim to give a shit" even though the person totally didn't give a shit, and when enlightened was just like "Duh, uh-huh".

ANYWAY, she was like that. And she refused to let us write about anything other than dust. Ronon pointed out that Rodney knows everything, so I asked Rodney to find some kind of tangential connection to something interesting, like big shiny machines. When I woke up, I was saying, "Like, a whatsitcalled collider thingummy, it bombards particles with other particles, right? And dust is particles, right? I mean, different particles, but dust must be involved somehow."
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (yum)
Looking at today's newspaper. Must be a slow day for news, because the lead image is extracts from the report on the country's highest wage earners. And, lol, Lauri Ylönen from The Rasmus is on the top 100 with his income of 400,000-something Euros per year! So, yes, Finland has less than 100 individuals who declare 1 million+ in income. That's so cute. (The Finnish population is around 5 million, I believe.) [ETA: In 2008, the US had about 5.1 million millionaire households and the state of Kansas alone had over 43,000 or 3.98% of the state population of ≈2.8 million.]

So. Anyway:

Last night I dreamed that there was a thriving industry in schmaltzy art and Hallmark cards, heavily featuring heart imagery, all produced by chimpanzees. When I woke, I was on the verge of saying, "But the question is whether chimps are innately twee or if they're socialized to be that way."

Chimp research + anthropology = OTP!, apparently.


cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (Default)


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