dreams of a sick and twisted mind, volume two

And you thought this blog was dead.

So, I'm on a bus - this is a dream - I'm on a bus and this guy sitting next to me basically starts hitting on me. Long slightly creepy story short, we start going out.

A few weeks later, we're in this bar - looks fairly fancy but I've never been there nor have I any idea where it could be. It's light outside. Anyway, my mum and some other people are there too. He (I don't actually know his name) asks me if I'm going to leave that joint there all night. I look down and sure enough there's a big one in the ashtray. I look up but my mum doesn't seem to have noticed. I don't have a lighter, so he lights it and takes the first puff. I take the second. Oh man, is this stuff strong. I feel it come on almost immediately. We take a few more and I stop caring that there are other people there.

We're back at the house (my house) stoned out of our brains when I start tripping. Just little stuff - like we're lying on the couch side by side, and we're looking at each other meaningfully, and I reach out to touch him and he's not there. He is in fact in the kitchen. Weird.

But then I totally phase out. I'm not even remotely conscious of what I'm doing.

Suddenly I'm at DJ Warehouse. This is in Leichhardt. I take no notice of that fact. So anyway I'm looking around and there's more clothes than I remember, but mostly raver stuff, you know, reflective shiny gear. So I go upstairs - more clothes. I realise there's actually only clothes here. I come back down and ask the lady at the counter "Didn't there used to be lights and stuff upstairs?" She shakes her head, wild-eyed.

I'm coming down as I walk out the door. I realize suddenly where DJ Warehouse is and how far I must have come to get here. I'm alone, too - he's not with me. Crap, they must have no idea where I am. I have to get home.

As I come down I realise something - I'm probably still tripping. This whole thing is a halucination... as I come down further the scenery starts to change. Big buildings become smaller, car yards become playgrounds. I'm in Allambie. Relax, I think to myself, maybe you're still tripping. But I know in my heart that's not true.

I really am in Allambie.

Fuck.

At least I'm reasonably close to home, I think. It's a half-hour bus trip from here, and one is coming right now. It's not a regular bus, though. It's painted silver and purple in some crazy designs and it's full of people, some of whom I think I know. There's a large window - big enough to climb through - at the back. Through it I can see a guy I definitely know - Anthony Taylor. He says incredulously, "Morgan? Hey man, you need a ride?"
I say "Yeah, man. Badly."
He says "Hop in."

Rather than go through either of the doors however, I decide to jump through this huge window, which there are hand-grips beside, probably for that exact reason. It's rather like rock-climbing. I say "Give me a hand, will ya?"
He says "Not unless you stop acting like an asshole towards me."
The bus is now actually starting to drive away.
I say "What are you talking about?"
He says "You always acted like an asshole towards me. I need to know it's going to stop."
At this point we're actually approaching the speed limit. Although I think to myself "You stole my iPod, I'm never going to forgive you for it," I say to him "Okay man, whatever."
He pulls me through onto the bus.

I explain my predicament. He says "Damn, man, you must have been pretty fucked up."

"Yeah. Yeah I was."

By the time I get home, everyone's in bed, and my man is nowhere to be found.

dreams of a sick and twisted mind, volume one

I had a weird dream last night where I moved in with this guy and his girlfriend, and he was continously and violently beating her. I know this because (I'm not sure if I was in the room or whether I was just a fly on the wall) I saw him doing it, smacking her around so hard she was bleeding all down her face. I also saw, underneath the bed, a girl (about eleven) who was also bleeding. I kind of assumed this was their daughter, so I guess they must have been married. Why the hell I was moving in with a married couple I have no idea.

Later, when she wasn't around and we were talking, the subject got around to her, and I said "You probably shouldn't beat her up so much." (Rather casual words, considering how much she was bleeding). He then got furiously angry and asked "What the fuck did you say?". Rather unwisely, I said "I said you shouldn't beat your wife so much!" and even more foolishly hit him over the head. He made a movement as though to hit me so I grabbed his wrists. He walked forward, I walked back, still my hands trying to restrain his (he was a pretty big guy.) Finally he wrested his hands from my grip and without thinking I just grabbed him and pushed/threw him over the couch. He looked like he was in pain but not incapacitated so I jumped over the couch and kicked him in the head, which hit against an edge of the wooden frame and started to bleed (at the back, where it had hit the furniture. He was already bleeding a bit on his face.) I said, trying not to sound too dramatic, "I guess I'm moving out," gave him a final kick and walked away.

The excitement being finished, I promptly woke up.