Bender vs. Iron Man

MORNING OF DECEMBER 17, 2008

Despite the potential awesomeness the title of this dream perhaps implies, it's actually very, very boring. The only reason I'm even putting it here is to keep from losing momentum after I actually managed to make a post last week!

This dream was inspired by two obvious real-life things:
1. I just recently saw the new Futurama DVD movie, "Bender's Big Score".
2. Even more recently I saw the trailer for the upcoming Iron Man movie in the theater.

In the actual dream I remember looking at a rack of T-shirts in some store. One of the shirts in question was yellow, and had a very simple graphic design on the front that depicted Futurama's Bender in the form of a fighter jet (you knew it was Bender because his face was visible as part of the jet). Also in the picture was Iron Man flying around the Bender-jet. A caption beneath the art said, "Bender vs. Iron Man: The Battle of the Millennium" or something to that effect.

I thought the shirt was funny and I actually wanted to buy it. (I love Bender, and have nothing against Iron Man, but I can't see myself actually being so excited by this particular shirt in real life).

That is all I can remember.

Told you the title was more entertaining than the actual dream.

On Set with Will

LOOK!!!!! A NEW DREAM JOURNAL IS BEING POSTED!!!! THERE'S LIFE IN THIS OLD THING YET!!!!!!

MORNING OF DECEMBER 12, 2007

Me, K, R & J all were part of a group that had for some reason been invited to spend a day on the set of the latest Will Ferrell movie (a fictional movie, not any actual upcoming movie I've heard of). The scene being shot took place in a bar. I don't know what the plot of the movie was, but Will Ferrell's character was at the bar, weeping and crying very melodramatically over something that had obviously depressed him very greatly.


While all the other guys at the bar were nursing beers and other alcoholic beverages, Will's character was holding tightly to a bottle of children's bubble-blowing solution. He would occasionally pause from his sobs to blow a few bubbles, then recommence with the tears. Finally, he just turned back and chugged the remainder of the bubble solution in a single gulp, wiping his mouth with the sleeve on one arm while unceremoniously tossing away the bottle with the other.


I don't recall how it came to this, but the scene ended when a giant light fixture from the ceiling fell and hit Will's character on the head, knocking him out.


After the scene was shot, Will and the other actors left the set. One of the crew members announced to the visitors that they would now auction off three of the props used in the scene we'd just witnessed. One was the fake light fixture that had fallen, one was the empty bottle of bubble solution, and the other I can't remember.


The first item auctioned was the light fixture. The high bid was a mere $40 (or so it seemed "mere" for a movie prop, considering what one would probably find on the Internet). The second item was the one I can't remember, and it also topped out at $40. When the third and final item, the empty bubble bottle, came up, I decided I'd go for it. So I immediately shouted "$40!" as my bid at the very outset, and indeed no one else dared bid higher. It's as if there was an unspoken law that each of these items must auction for precisely $40--no more, no less.


So I won the empty bubble bottle. I took it home, but the house looked a lot like my grandmother's house. There was a little more having to do with R and J and our friends B and A and a trip to Wal-Mart or something, but the details there get foggy and tedious, so I'm ending the dream journal here.

Apartment Camping

Dreams have been kind of slow lately. Here's a boring one from this weekend.

MORNING OF SEPTEMBER 23, 2007

For some reason my friend and neighbor, K, and I decided to leave our respective apartments to live on the lawn of our apartment complex. We helped each other move several of our respective belongings outside and more or less made camp. The dream gave no explanation for why we had decided to do this (or at least I can’t remember one).

I vaguely remember the first night came and went, and we slept in sleeping bags. Suddenly it was morning and I got up to get ready for work and was disappointed to find myself—not to mention all of the possessions I had moved outside with me—covered in dew! I wondered how I could not have thought this part through beforehand.

Once I was ready for work I went to get my car. What should have been the actual apartment building I had moved out of was now a multi-level parking garage. My car was parked on the bottom level, but for some reason you had to drive to the very top level in order to exit. It seemed like I was traversing an endless number of levels before I finally reached the top. I had to exit my car and open a small gate that led to a long and winding ramp which would take me away from the parking garage and out to the main road.

This is about all I remember.

The Rather Rude House of Arthur

This one's from earlier this week.

MORNING OF SEPTEMBER 17, 2007

I was visiting the home of an older lady who was apparently either supposed to be family, or a close friend of my family. She looked quite a lot like Bea Arthur, which was odd to me even in the dream. It was already dark out when I arrived at the house. There was a small group of people already there, all sitting in the living room and just chatting with each other. Most of them were older people, close to “Bea’s” age, though there was one couple that was probably closer to my own age.

At one point I had to excuse myself to the restroom. I soon discovered the restroom had no working lights! The bulbs were apparently shot, and I had no idea where to find replacements. Since there were also no windows in the room, it was simply too dark to go about my business. So I had to just forget it for the moment and return to the living room.

At this point my friend K was suddenly with me, as though she’d been there with me all along. She and I took our seats in the living room and mostly just observed the conversation. We both felt terribly awkward and out of place.

At one point, several of the people in the room began making jokes at our expense and generally mocking us, completely unprovoked! The majority of their derision seemed to be aimed at K. Outwardly she only looked annoyed, but I could tell some of their words were actually hurting her, which was making me really angry.

Finally I got up, said something I can no longer remember to the room at large (which is just as well, as I probably wouldn’t be able to print it here anyway), and told K to come with me outside. She followed.

The two of us were now standing alone outside in the darkened driveway of this home. The only light was from a nearby street lamp. We mutually vented our frustrations about the jerks inside, and before long were laughing very hard at them, totally forgetting our previous frustrations.

We noticed something in the yard near the driveway. It was a remote-controlled car with a plastic Mickey Mouse on top. We assumed it more than likely belonged to the grandchildren of the “Bea Arthur” lady. We began playing with it, making it zip around the driveway. As it drove, the plastic Mickey on top spouted off random sayings (in the Mickey Mouse voice, of course).

This is all I remember.

Chased By A Madman

MORNING OF SEPTEMBER 18, 2007

The following, rather intense dream was I think partly inspired by the book I’m currently reading, as well as a book I just finished before that. Other parts of it are more random. My dreams aren't always as intense as this, but it was so richly detailed it seemed a fitting dream to begin the online journal with.

I was aware that there was a very dangerous, murderous madman who was trying to find and kill me. And I knew for a fact that I could never successfully hide from him—he would find me sooner or later if something didn’t stop him first. This knowledge did make me nervous, but it didn’t fill me with terror like it would in real life. I actually sort of felt more like I was a main character in an exciting book or movie. Which, it turns out, was half true I guess.

My first memory is driving my car, and my friends E and D were with me. It was early evening, and we were passing through a suburban neighborhood. At one place there were two cars out in the street that might possibly have just had a fender-bender of a wreck. Several people from the surrounding houses had gathered around.

I was frustrated, because this scene prevented me from quickly getting through in my car, and I knew the madman was somewhere hot on my tail. I knew it wasn't good to be stopped for long. And wouldn’t you know it, that’s when I saw him in my rearview mirror! The madman in his car, slowly coming up the road.

Somehow I sped my car past the neighborhood scene and back onto the main, two-lane road with my enemy in close pursuit. By some means of stunt-like driving I’ll never comprehend in the waking world, I eventually managed to lose him in traffic. The relief was temporary, as I knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up to me again. (My friends, by the way, were still along for the ride this whole time. We were just too engaged in escaping with our lives to be having much interaction.)

The next place I remember, we arrived at some old, abandoned mansion, which I entered alone. The place very much had the feel of a classic haunted house, though it wasn’t actually haunted; it was only empty and neglected. I explored the place myself, hoping it would prove a refuge from the madman and not a trap.

I found a secret passageway in the form of a series of narrow, winding hallways that went seemingly nowhere. Somehow the passageway was well lit, but the strangeness of this didn’t factor into the dream. Finally, the passage ended with a small door that led into a very small room. The room had apparently been a bedroom at one time, but was as long abandoned as anything else in the house. One look out the dirty, cobweb-covered window told me this bedroom was very high at the top of the house.

A second doorway in the bedroom then led me into a gift shop of sorts. In stark contrast to the house it was apparently connected to, the shop was alive and bustling with customers. It was mostly stocked with all sorts of books, but also had a variety of novelty items and collectibles.

A lady who worked at the store soon approached me. She was obviously at least a little older than me and rather attractive, dressed in a long, wispy black dress. There was something about her that made me feel uncomfortable. She began telling me about a new graphic novel by Neil Gaiman that she thought I’d almost certainly enjoy reading. She apprehended one of those rolling ladders like you might expect to see in a very large bookstore or library and wheeled it over to the some very tall shelves.

The graphic novel in question was at the very top of the shelf against the wall. She brought it down to me and began explaining it in detail. The book itself, a hardback, was huge. Not especially thick, but about two feet tall and a bit over a foot wide. It was apparently some sort of re-envisioning of Mother Goose stories, because the cover had art of a rather creepy looking old lady riding a giant goose through the air. The art looked to me in the dream like the work of Charles Vess.

After looking through the book, I thanked the lady and told her I wasn’t interested. It was simply too huge and expensive for my tastes at the moment. She seemed really disappointed, but I went on and continued looking through the store, glad to get away from her.

I was browsing a little rotating display stand of paperback books when suddenly the madman appeared from behind it, almost as if from thin air. He said something like, “You’re a tough customer to please!”

He was very ugly. His flesh was grayish and looked almost plastic, as if he were a poorly made toy. His eyes were round, bloodshot, and bulging, completely free of eyelids, as his mouth was free of lips. He wore a battered fedora and trench coat. I glanced beyond him for a moment and saw the determined lady who had tried to sell me the book now lying motionless at the bottom of her rolling ladder, apparently dead.

He immediately began to attack me, but to my relief several people in the store all helped me fight back. We were able to hold him off for the moment, but he obviously had superhuman strength. I grabbed some item from one of the shelves in the store—I think it was a pen or a pencil—and managed to stab him deep into the neck.

It didn’t feel like stabbing flesh should feel. It felt like stabbing a hollow, plastic toy. I heard and felt a rush of air poof out as the pen went in. The madman began screaming in pain, and he soon collapsed, deflated, and fell dead.

Everyone in the store cheered. Though the whole dream had been about the madman chasing only me, it was as if all of these people had been freed from the exact same burden—as though the madman had taunted them all, and now we had teamed up to defeat him.

In the last remembered scene of the dream, I was leaving the mansion I had entered earlier, only now it was Hogwarts school from the Harry Potter books. I was with the Weasley family. Fred and George were teasing Ginny, and they were magically making dirty words appear on the walls. The words had something to do with their teasing of Ginny, because she would get very agitated and quickly use magic to blot out the words they were writing. Fred and George then took off down the hallways, magically writing on the walls as they went, and Ginny was in hot pursuit, blotting out as she followed.

This is what was going on when my alarm went off and woke me. The end