I dream that I get a message from a doctor saying, good news! I discovered you’re not depressed after all! I’m curious so I go see him, he’s giving a whole presentation about me, on a stage, slides on the big screen. He announces to the audience that I actually have “Empty Womb Syndrome.” I, of course, disagree with his findings and I’m actually pretty angry at him. I’m about to say something when Lady Tremaine herself walks on stage, announces that the doctor is a “charlatan”. She winks at the audience and says a surprise is up next. The Critical Role cast walks on stage and the crowd goes wild, the doctor is ushered out protesting loudly.
Tag: Disney
Meeting People
I dream that my sister came back home and we fight fight fight. I’m in town sitting on a bench, talking about it with my dad, when the Queen of England sits on my other sides. She thanks me for helping her the last time, and I absolutely don’t remember ever meeting her before. She needs my help now because she wants to show Hercules, the Disney cartoon, to Prince Louis and doesn’t know if it’s appropriate for his age. I assure her I used to love Hercules as a child. We speak in different languages and she compliments me on my pronunciation. She notices I’m looking dejected, she learns about my sister and nods gravely. Okay, she says, early tomorrow morning we leave from Bangkok and you’re coming with us. I say no, absolutely no, I can’t travel, I don’t even have a swimsuit. It’s out of the question. The next morning I’m on a Thai beach.
Then I dream that I’m Lady Gaga trying to infiltrate a Nazi stronghold. Hitler himself is there and he’s looking for me, but thankfully with a surgical mask on my face, no eye makeup and a fake accent he doesn’t recognize me.
I Begged And Begged But My Parents Never Took Me
I dream that I’m visiting Disneyland with my mother and sister. It’s already late in the evening and the park is about to close as I get to the little train that circles the whole area. The characters walking around are children wearing creepy, lifeless masks. They look so sad and exhausted I suggest them to unionize. They laugh.
The train ride is short, the park is smaller than what I imagined. We visit Santa Claus land, it’s full of cute animatronics but it feels wrong in July. At the end of the ride there’s a gift shop, I immediately go look for stickers but all the packets are open and half stolen. The young shop employee is blind and he can’t help me. How could Laura Bailey betray me like this? (The place was recommended by her, somehow).
I finally locate an almost intact package and demand a discount. I pay it 4 bucks.
Mall Trip With The Rich
I dream about meeting an old French woman. An aristocrat, maybe? She takes my siblings and I to the mall, wants to buy us presents. I settle on a Disney board game, but I realize my siblings are picking really cheap presents and I put it back.
I notice an aisle with pretty stickers and go examining them. A little boy is staring at me. I stare him back, angry. He says,
I guess you’re cute, even though you’re old.
I find a little book of Chinese stickers. The old lady wants me to translate them, I start scribbling with a pencil as fast as I can, it’s getting late and I desperately want to go home. The old lady won’t let me go until I finish.
Something Something Trip
(Very light sleep, kept waking up and panicking about the pandemic. Now trying to make sense of confusing images.)
I’m going on a trip despite everything. A school trip, maybe? At night we are shown an old Disney movie with Hailey Mills, one I’ve never seen before. We’re travelling on a small dog sled. Someone in the group cheats on his wife (Travis, was that you? I HOPE NOT!). I go back home and stay awake all night writing about it.
Blood, Fire and Disappointment
Note: the man I’m gonna write about today is a rather famous person who I admire very much. I’d hate for him to accidentally find this dream where some terrible stuff happens to his actual family, I was even tempted to not record it at all. In the end I decided to leave his name out, just in case.
I’m watching a live stream. In it a man is driving a car and at the same time recording a vlog with his wife and children. A terrible accident happens, an explosion. We see the younger child, no more than a toddler, buried by rock and debris, his face burnt and bloody. The older brother is also badly burned. The father looks into the phone camera he’s recording with, his face covered in soot and deadly scared, and tells the audience he’s gonna run for help.
The day goes by slowly, I keep thinking about the accident, wondering what happened, checking Twitter for updates. Finally the man tweets something. A Christian prayer, and then a picture of his younger son with a heartbreaking epitaph. I’m not surprised, the child was badly hurt. But where is the brother?
The live stream starts again, we are showed the other child. His black t-shirt and jeans are burned, it’s night and he’s walking alone into a drive-in restaurant. Inside, standing under neon lights on the shiny floor tiles, there’s no other than Emperor Palpatine. He tries to turn the child to the dark side, but gets stabbed in return: the boy killed him!
People on the Internet rejoice at seeing the boy alive and well, but I’m growing suspicious. The car accident, the fight with Palpatine, it all looked kind of… staged, produced even. Was it all a lie? An excuse for this boy get away with murder? Did the father even got as far as sacrificing his own younger child to get the older one to succeed? I feel shaken.
Another quick dream, because I slept in this Sunday morning.
I notice at the supermarket colorful cardboard boxes on a shelf. I look closer and see pictured on the boxes a set of vintage 90s mugs, just like the ones I used to have breakfast in as a kid! I buy three, one with Chip ‘n Dale, one with Mickey and Donald, and one with Tony the Tiger.
I run home all excited, I want to show them to my sister. She’s sitting on the toilet but doesn’t seem to mind. We open a box and we are immediately overwhelmed by the smell of artificial chocolate, it’s really bad. There are no functional mugs inside, just three plastic replicas with Styrofoam cereal in it. They are cute and colorful, but quite useless.
Choirs and Cows
I’m watching on TV a children’s choir, they are all little hams that can’t stand still and are swaying wildly to the music. Delighted, I go to YouTube to send some of their videos to my friend C. I find one where an entire cast of Bollywood dancers are performing to their songs, and another where the TV host and the choir conductor are doing ballet.
The Glee cast is sitting in the audience, I guess they used to be former choir members. The last performer is a little girl with bangs and brown curls that looks like Rachel Berry, she throws a tantrum and refuses to sing unless it’s a “power ballad”.
I’m sitting in a doctor’s waiting room, but I also work there as a training secretary. As I wait I’m writing on my notebook and listening to music; an old schoolmate walks on the table and leaves a muddy shoe print on my blank page, I yell at him. The doctor*, who is Chris Evans in a white coat, gives me the thumbs up from his office. I reply with a toothy smile from under my wool hat and massive white earphones.
Now Chris Evans is reading the news on TV. He chokes on his words and is quickly replaced by ads, I picture everyone laughing at him in the studio. Once back, he introduces an old Disney cartoon: it has been clearly ripped from YouTube, I find it very unprofessional. The cartoon depicts a polyamorous relationship between a blonde human woman, three anthropomorphic cows and one actual cow.
*not THE Doctor. A doctor, a medical professional.
One-Two Chicken
I’m with my sister on the beach. We’ve been fighting lately, but we apparently made peace in my dreams. She puts on her sunglasses, slathers herself with cream and proceeds to sunbathe like a lizard; meanwhile I stay fully clothed because I’m shy.
Times flies and it’s soon time to go back home, she has to pay for our train tickets because I only have five bucks on me. On the train I’m reading a Mickey Mouse comic strip, my sister reads from over my shoulder and chatters on about the artist, apparently a favorite of hers. “See how Goofy really moves like a dog,” she says enthusiastically. Horace is buff, like veins bulging ripped for who knows what reason.
I keep on reading, there’s a two pages interview with a Spanish-speaking comic book writer named Ricardo Pollo. I start chuckling uncontrollably, my sister asks why so I explain: the guy has a son who was born on January the second, and thus he named the poor kid “One Two Pollo.” In the dream, I find that utterly hysterical.
Of Monsters and Relatives
My first dream of 2020 is a recurring one. I meet my least favorite relatives, Aunt T. and her husband, Uncle F.: they’re bigoted, obnoxious, judgy and loud, they scare me so much I get out of my way to avoid them. In my dreams, though, I always snap like a wounded animal, covering them with vicious insults, spelling out just how much I despise them. I never have the guts to do that IRL.
The second dream is about a Disney-themed water park. Every attraction is rather original, the one I remember best is set in the The Little Mermaid kitchen where Sebastian got almost cooked. The pool is literally just a giant kitchen sink full of dish soap.
As I go through the rides I realize my main objective is to slain a monster, a giant sea monster that lives in a cave. There’s a woman with me, she’s a harsh-faced lady with long black hair. Now I cannot tell who she was supposed to be, I just remember her unpleasant personality, a bit like my mother’s.
We have obtained a powerful weapon: it’s an animal’s giant nail, yellow, big and round like a satellite dish. It’s clear to me that we have to sneak inside the cave and take the monster by surprise. He’s not gonna see us coming until it’s too late, just like Saurun when the Hobbits reached Mount Doom. I order the woman to not touch the nail we’re carrying, because if she touches it the monster will know we’re here. The woman thinks she knows better (just like my mother) and scratches on the nail. The monster comes for us.
DECADE DREAM JOURNAL 