Morpheus' Playground

anticlockworkteeth:

A night restlessly spent tossing and turning seguing in and out of snatches of dreams that intertwine and juxtapose, or merge into one you had during the previous five minutes of stolen sleep, the dreams architecture changing at right angles to itself amidst scenery as familiar as the back of your hand, such as the home you grew up in or your favourite bed with something often as small as a plant but occasionally as large as a wall, so subtly misplaced as to make the whole scenario intrinsically wrong. Where plot and script weave and fold back on themselves throughout a nightsworth of dream cameos and pop up mysteriously later in some other segment of the overarching surreality, so seemingly out of place but certainly justified for your subconscious knows the narrative.
Nights of being heroes and horrors at once all the same and repeating the same absurd actions, where you trip over but don’t reach the ground and you’re flying.
Exes, best friends and old flames and people you had forgotten talk to you but turn away and they are gone replaced by a cat a miles distance away.
Nights where there is no difference between waking up sweat drenched, ears ringing, bruised grey eyes weighing your forehead down and yet staring and focusing so intently on the back of your door in the dim half light that you know how to tie every damn knot in the wood and slipping seamlessly back into sleep.
When perspective doesn’t apply and a step in the right direction sends you hurtling off the face of the earth, where time, logic and the rules of physics are taken as rough guidelines. When a punch to an enemy or a mad dash to save someone are both as through treacle, or as if someone was tortuously tormenting you with slowed down framerates and fast forwards, skipped storylines and deleted scenes.

On nights when all this wondrous mess comes together I’ve noted throughout the day, or until you wake up properly at least, you are so close to the dreaming and can recall long forgotten adventures you had, make sense of last night’s journey….put it in order.
Oddly I find it far more comforting in this unclarified day dream feeling of deep thought than i do at any other time, as if i feel i can reach out and touch the characters I met and talk without abandon…cos hey I saved these guys from a fricking space shark, but i guess then they did let me crash in their zeppelin’s brig during the nightmare saga of the rotten cat. Theres the woman i loved for a month and we accepted our son was evil and we couldnt face each other again, i wandered across fields of war with those elves over there and our base was a rotten apple core. theres my city i designed, a mish mash of my favourite geography and locales, i would pop into my favourite cafe that I dreamt there just for you, but the last time we went my face was a blank canvas and we both sank into the chequered tile floor alone. Theres the stars that i can never tell are real or imagined. Theres a photo album full of the night terrors I had when you left me. Theres a berlin wall with all the faces of old friends, posed exactly as they are in the one photgraph i have of us, painted accurately on them as the builders tear it down, now we don’t talk anymore.

In short i think theres a lot more to dreams than we let on and I have live a hundred other lives and scores of other stories in my slumber which I think is pretty rad….I just wish i knew if I had ever met Dream of the Endless for real…

theglubbening:

I had a dream last night. Several, really, but one was really… odd. I remember the dream I had before waking up more clearly than the one that was the most important, but something in a book I was reading reminded me very clearly. It was a description of scars.

And last night, for the first time, I dreamed of having a flat chest with scars. Flat chest is nothing new, in fact, most of the time when I dream, my chest is flat, or very close to it. But last night, I dreamed I was shirtless. I was doing something, in the woods, and I removed my shirt. I had surgery scars arcing across my chest, ridged up, and a pale pink-purple, like I had been swimming and was cold, which I may have done. They were fascinating. Their texture under my fingers and across my chest felt like stitches holding a doll together, like someone had cut me open and stuffed me full of good ideas and happiness and sunshine and they sewed me back up with thick fishing line, but that was okay, because it was mine. They were fantastic, and they were mine. Someone walked over to where I was, my friend or mother or someone, and they talked to me not as a male, not as an androgyne, but as if they could tell that despite my flat chest and scars, I was feeling feminine. They used “she” when they turned back to their companion, they told me I was in very good shape for a woman my age, and they didn’t stare at the scars in horror, but as one appreciates fine art.

I wish it wasn’t a dream.

This is a very beautiful dream!

I am not really the right person to ask about this. If you ever find out, let me know!

I assume if you study lucid dreaming or “fantasize” about what would happen next while you’re trying to sleep, you have a higher chance of picking up where you left off? I’ve never really done it so I don’t know.

If you happen to be polytheistic (Pagan or otherwise), you could always ask a God or Goddess of dreams to aid you!

Anybody have any advice?

keepyourcorsetstight:

Where I had to go back to my old high school on the last day of school to get some records or grades or something. But, for some reason, my old high school was connected to a playground that looked just like the playground from my old elementary school and that’s where everyone hung out during lunch.

Everyone was being dicks to me, more than usual, and then I saw these three people sitting under one of the slides having a tea party. One of them looked like the mad hatter (a combination between the Disney cartoon version and the Johnny Depp version, really) on of them was wearing a corset and bloomers and stockings and had Marie Antionette hair, but in dark brown. And I really can’t recall the other one at all. The third one was sitting next to me, not directly in front of me, when I went to sit with them. They gave me tea and cookies and we talked, and I went to leave when lunch was over but they said I wasn’t allowed to. That I drank their tea and had to stay their forever. But I said no, I had to leave, but that I’d be back to visit often. And that was good enough for them. They didn’t seem mean, more like they just wanted a friend and were worried I’d never return.

So I went back to the school building, but I kept finding notes from the Hatter guy in my pocket. Like, they were just magically appearing. I’m not sure if the tea party people were magical or ghosts.

Then it turned out that there was a big house on school property that people used to eat lunch in, but now an angry ghost or demon or something possessed it. They needed someone to volunteer to talk the being into letting us use the house, but everyone who had tried in the past died or went insane. Apparently the Hatter thought I was the one who would win the house back, so he volunteered me without me knowing. So two other people and I went to the house. I don’t remember what happened in the house clearly, but some rooms looked like my grandma’s house and some were just big and fancy. Whatever it was was yelling at us to get  out, and the two people who volunteered were getting all pissy at me because I kept stopping to read notes from the Hatter. Which were full of clues that would help us, but they didn’t believe me and thought I had already gone crazy from the house and wanted to leave me behind. 

I finally passed all the test the house had set up (thanks to the Hatter giving me the answers to everything,) while the others were fucking around not knowing what they were supposed to do, so the house allowed me a chance to try and reason with it. And I succeeded in convincing the house to let us all eat lunch there. It was just worried that all the kids would vandalize it and fuck it up, but I promised that we wouldn’t and said that if anyone messed things up it could ban them from being in the house. 

And then it allowed the three of us to leave, and I went back under the slide where my new friends were all waiting with extra tea and cookies to celebrate. The end!

viciousowlbeast:

I had a dream that fel reavers were real and just roamed around… mostly in packs. And they weren’t normal fel reavers. They were ON FIRE and looked super demonic. I got too close to one and it tried to kill me, but luckily I outran it.

pinupboy:

had this dream where the mall had been shut down and two giant pirate ships had been built in it for a murder mystery type thing. A curse had been put on our ship and everyone was going to die if I didn’t figure out why by a certain time.We had all been assigned roles and I was the captain. We all thought that it had been done by someone on the other ship, which we had no contact with, but then minutes before we all died I realized who it was and that I had to make a human sacrifice to lift the curse. But since it wasn’t real, just a reanactment, I stabbed a raw chicken over and over instead of murdering someone and then everyone cheered and we all won.

Then I woke up and when I fell back asleep I was visiting people on a farm. There was this little five year old girl and her older brother who was like 18 or 19 and their parents had died. I ended up fucking the five year old, because apparently dream Matt is a pedophile, and then her brother tried to kill me. Oh, and I felt really guilty for cheating on Elle so I tried to take pictures of the kid to prove that it was just some kid and not some homewrecking bitch that could be seen as competition by her. Then he decided to raise his father from the dead to do the honor of killing me, but when he came back to life he was just like “Chill out, son. It’s not a big deal.” and then he gave me a pack of old fashion cigarettes and we drank a beer together.