Author: Decade Dream Journal

Oh I Love You Mustache Girl

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that I’m in an arcade with the child version of my neighbor S. He’s looking up city names on a computer and the arcade owner, an old man with a kind face, asks if he’s interested in those cities’ football clubs. S. replies that no, he’s actually into train stations.

And so the old man offers to drive us to see actual trains. On the way we pick up two old women that look like regular Miss Marples. Together we sneak into a garden where a group of armed guards attack us.

We escape easily and one of the guards even join us. She’s a woman in drag with short blonde hair and a fake mustache. Now I’m watching her on… an East European TV series? It was filmed in the 2000s so all the boys have frosted tips. Mustache girl is the love interest of the only other girl in the group, but the series is canceled too soon and I never find out if they got together.

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Dead Squirrel and Dead Wife

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I dream that I have a pet squirrel in a paper bag. I shake the bag because I forgot there’s also a glass bottle inside. The squirrel gets hit in the head, I rush it to the vet but there’s nothing I can do to save it.

Then I dream about a couple on a mystical quest. The wife keeps dying in strange accidents and the husband keeps bringing her back to life whenever he has enough magic. She stays alive for a few hours and then dies again. She doesn’t realize what’s happening until she notices her husband’s hair is turning gray: seven years have passed for him, only seven hours for her.

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Picture Anxiety

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I dream that I overslept and missed work. In the afternoon I go see Boss Lady in her office, pleading for forgiveness. She shows me her address book, where she wrote “FIRED” in big underlined letters. I beg for a second chance, she gives me the book and instruct to copy all her contacts with a fountain pen. My handwriting is absolutely atrocious.

She gives me a second task, I am to go in town and take selfies for a store ad. I step in a clothing store, thinking I should look a little more fashionable, but girly clothes make me uncomfortable. I also consider dying my hair salmon pink, but I feel too ugly even for that.

(Photo by Arisa Chattasa on Unsplash)

I decide I’ll just take the picture, even though it’s cloudy and I’m wearing boring gray clothes. I’ll sit in front of a marble wall and look up, smiling. I ask a man to take the picture, and he’s apparently a “pro” because he wants me to look more dynamic to “sell the product”. He instructs me to jump, shoots on his vintage camera and the flash explodes, sending an electrical current down the street.

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Asshole Teacher

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that my high school finals are getting near and I haven’t studied or anything, I’m terrified of what my father will say when I fail miserably.

On the day of the final I go to class and I’m assigned a comic book to draw. The assignment is too damn long and I tell the teacher I can’t possibly finish it in time. “Am I not human?” I ask in tears.

“Yes,” he says, “but you’ll never be special.“

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So Much Symbolism In This Dream That I’m Trying To Figure Out

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I dream that my sister has a baby, a little half black toddler, so fat and happy. I can’t help but fall in love.

Then I dream that I’m in a supermarket with my mother. We go down the escalator to a basement that is ridden with stinky ugly zombies. They crawl around biting men’s penises off (they even catch UK’s Prince Charles!). My mom and I escape.

We follow a long underground tunnel that ends up inside Hogwarts. There is an evil dictator in control of the castle, we join the resistance to fight her and I’m shot, repeatedly, in the thigh. My mom puts me on a boat and we sail away under a thunderstorm, looking for help.

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A Bit of Nonsense Before the Alarm Rings

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I dream that my penpal C is texting me all excited because she thinks I converted to Islam, I don’t know how to tell her I’m a catholic (note: I’m very much an atheist in real life). Her texts are appearing to me on the label of the water bottle I’m drinking. I take a sip and realize it’s wine. I try to throw up, I can’t.

I get outside. It’s cloudy and the trees are blooming, it looks like March instead of June. A young man runs past me wearing red robes and holding a broomstick; he’s going to a nearby park to play a mock Quidditch game. I want to follow him, but it’s Monday and I need to go to work instead.

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Clearly My Subconscious Crave Rain And Creepy Buildings And Well I Just Want It To Be October

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I meet my cousin in town, it’s raining (is it really always raining in my dreams, or am I just tricking myself?)

Unlike in real life, cousin is very sweet with me, we hug, she asks me to go buy some comic books for her. Isn’t that nice? Something we can share. I go to a store but can’t find the comics I’m looking for.

I’m looking for a second store and I’m now in a building, an old English manor. It’s night, I’m holding a candle and I need to sneak into the library to get those comics; I’m being really careful not to wake the governess, who happens to be Maggie Smith (am I in the Secret Garden movie?) I go round and round the dark corridors, I’m sure the library must be somewhere around here, but I never find it.

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Twenty Years Later I’m still Heartbroken About That Doll

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that it’s raining and I’m looking transfixed at a toy store window. On display there is a secondhand Skipper doll, just like the one I had as a child. I walk inside and ask how much she is, the owner says 45 bucks. I buy her. The owner leads me to a basement where he’s keeping a dozens vintage porcelain dolls. I think I recognize some of them, as if they were mine in a past life. I tell the owner about how my father maliciously decapitated my old Skipper (this happened IRL). Moved, he takes a tiny paintbrush to add some details to the new one, make her extra special for me.

(photo by Annalisa Bianca Fornasier on flickr)

Then I dream that my siblings and I are children again and we are moving to a new house. We decide who gets which room, we sell all our plants. We dismantle the old kitchen. Deep down I’m sad to leave the old house and I know I will miss the local stray cats. I’m relieved when I wake up and realize I’m not moving after all.

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College Days, Homesickness and… Violent Deaths?

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that I’m in college, which is quite rare, it’s usually− almost exclusively really− high school. My mom and siblings are staying with me for a few days, they will need to go soon and I’m feeling heartbroken: I have no idea when I’ll be able to see them again.

Mom offers to drive everyone to Ikea to make me happy. A couple kids from college pile in the car with us, they aren’t much older than children. They sit on each other’s lap in the front seat. Mom is a rather bad driver, she goes really slow and hits every bump on the road (she actually can’t drive IRL).

At Ikea we are greeted by a girl with a big smile. She points to a pair of mummified legs hanging from the front door, explains that they belonged to a coworker, a girl who died on the job. I look away.

Instead I ask the two college children when is the academic year supposed to end; they say winter. It’s only June, it’ll be ages until I can go back home, I realize with a pang of despair.

There is an old book in my bag, white cover. My old high school crush gave it to me and I must have borrowed it to the library at some point, but now it’s back with me. The first pages are a journal recording my college years, the handwriting is beautiful and there are sketches of friends I’m sure I made up. Then there are a few colorful comic panels. One is the story of a geeky red haired boy and his fat emo girlfriend.

I’ve started journaling again on the last pages, and I’m panicking because I’m quickly running out of space.

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Like A Greek Tragedy I Guess

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that I’m walking in the parking lot outside my building. From a window I hear a woman crying and screaming,

I’m a good mother! I’m not always angry, I’m just tired! I feel like Orestes, painted on a plate.

My friend C. is at my house. So are my nasty relatives. My old uncle G. is dead.

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