The World of Stuff .com

It was white wine

As part of my quest to have lucid dreams, I’ve been trying to remember more of my dreams. It’s been about two weeks since I started recording my dreams. I’ve succeeded in remembering at least something from my dreams every night, ranging from a single image or idea to a long, complex experience in an alternate reality.

Probably the most interesting dream was the one I remembered from two nights ago. In this dream, my parents were occupied with long-term remodeling projects, so they had some other man and woman watch me and my sister at a different house. These surrogate parents were the meanest people I had ever known. They threatened me with a water gun when I did the slightest thing they didn’t like. (At least, I thought it was a water gun.) They were really out to ruin my life; they were planning to transfer my sister and me from Pompano High to Smithfield High (which, fortunately, isn’t real). Life was pretty miserable.

In an attempt to escape from this cruel reality, I would play a game with my sister and my friend Nick. Nick played the king and the executioner. I was the prince, and my sister was the executioner’s daughter. But of course, the moment we got home, all the fun would cease. So at nights I would go to my old Catholic school, which was suddenly in a single, large, old building, like the White House. I would hang out with all my friends from there and drink wine and smoke cigarettes. I would also spend time with the principal, the school’s only nun (who isn’t the principal in real life).

There was this one time that my sister and I were hanging out with my friend Kevin at Target. (We actually went there yesterday! Creepy, huh?) We were talking about how bad it would be if my parents saw me as a drinker and a smoker. Even though we didn’t live in the same house at the time, I’m sure they wouldn’t have liked it. Suddenly, my mom passed by, but she didn’t seem to notice us. We marvelled at how close of a call it was.

It was a pretty weird and unsettling dream. Hopefully once I’m able to control my dreams, I can have fun with those and take them in whatever direction I want them to go. Even without being lucid, remembering your dreams can give you some interesting ideas. For example, “The Executioner’s Daughter” would be a great title for a song. I’ve already started writing it, in fact. It’s a ballad. (And yes, I know it’s already the title of a book.)

In our last installment, I mentioned the idea of hosting a Skypecast. I hosted one today. It was to be an hour of conversation about the Beatles. I was expecting to talk to some lively fans about the music and the obscure facts behind the music. After a few minutes, two people joined: a Dutch guy who couldn’t use his microphone and a Japanese guy who didn’t want to. So I was basically text chatting with them. Then, after a half an hour, I ducked out of it. It was extremely boring. I guess in order to host a Skypecast, you need to be talkative and you need to be able to put up with people who don’t speak your language.

There’s a light bulb in Livermore, California, that’s been working since 1901. It’s called the Centennial Light.

ASCII art meets Google Maps in ASCII Maps. It’s much faster than Google Maps, but the detail is lacking.

One year ago: “Most of you probably don’t know me, and, if this is true, consider yourself lucky.”
Two years ago: “I was supposed to line my bird’s cage with that stuff.”