Death Hotel

I dreamed I was getting a tattoo on my face: a black line.

A simple straight black line, like an em dash, on my face. In the dream I was trying to find the correct position and orientation for this line but I woke up before the process was complete. Upon awakening I knew what I had to do.

I've been using a Sharpie and a ruler to draw a black line a few centimetres long on my face. Trying it in different places. One black line.

With two lines I could have a design or have symmetry. But symmetry cancels itself out, and I don't want a design. The opposite of design is an accident. And everywhere I go, I always try to make things look like an accident.

So the next time you see me I might have a black line drawn on my face. I'll have to try different positions and angles for the black line before I finally get it inked in. It might take several attempts to get the placement perfect.

It might take months.

Posted by philip at 05:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

A mosquito bit me on the pinky finger. The side of my hand swelled up and turned purple.

A mosquito bit me on the back of the neck. I fell paralysed onto my knees and tumbled into the pit.

A mosquito bit me on the thigh and sucked my leg to a shrivelled stump. A whirlwind of black dust rose up in the forest. A bear jumped on top of me and fought me to the ground.

A mosquito bit me on the cheek and the whole left side of my face caved in. A napalm fire roared along the treeline. Blind civilians ran from their homes and fell straight into the foetid pit.

I've been having a recurring dream about a bat with blood in its mouth.

Posted by philip at 12:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

My footsteps echoed off the walls as I ran up the corridor. The basement of the hospital was abandoned. I was ready to fight my way into the morgue but when I got there no one was guarding it.

The burn unit filled up with poison gas. I alone was immune to the toxic effects. I ran up the hospital corridor. No one in the hospital knew I was alive. I erased my life from the computer data banks and gave my molecules over to the system.

Raised dots on a card I slid into a slot. The doors opened. A small television swung out over the bed.

I rolled a bed through the empty wing of the hospital. An empty life. Wave to me from the window. Ward 4-D.

Posted by philip at 01:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

An empty white room with a high ceiling. Sunlight shining in through small, high windows.

A pair of pliers sits on the floor.

Something is wrong with my eyes. Holy fuck there's something wrong.

Posted by philip at 02:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed that the guy from Woodhands gave me a hug after the show. No, wait... that actually happened. Did it? What the hell happened last night?

I also dreamed there was blood gushing down the right side of my face like a waterfall. That never happened. I'm pretty sure.

Posted by philip at 01:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It's starting to come to me in snippets, in fragments.

Three men have made a decision. They are starting to work together, serious and determined.

A woman is screaming at them. "What are you doing."

One of the men says, "We're going to die. So we might as well do it with as much style as possible."

Posted by philip at 12:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was staying in Baltimore, Maryland at the Nothankyou Hotel. The Nothankyou Hotel was a big ritzy hotel, famous for the fact that no one there ever said "thank you."

I was checking out of the hotel and I wondered if I would be able to drive back to Canada by sundown. I dragged myself along the sidewalk through the dirty snow to where I'd parked my car, a good eight or ten blocks away. I got in behind the wheel and started up the car and drove across the snowpacked parking lot towards the exit.

Just as I was about to pull out onto the street, there was a huge thump and the car came to a halt. Through the windshield I could see where one of my front wheels had come right off the car and was rolling away towards the busy street.

I shut off the engine and got out. I chased after the wheel, and when I caught up with it, I picked it right up off the ground in time to feel the tire deflating in my arms. There was a large gouge in the tire that must've happened when the wheel came off the axle.

I was holding the wheel of my car in my arms in the middle of downtown Baltimore. Panic rose inside me and I fought it down. I had to get back to Canada, but now it looked like I would be at the mercy of whatever auto mechanic I could find in this hostile foreign city.

I carried the whole wheel right across the street to a garage called "Baltimore Tire And Auto." I brought the wheel inside and laid it down on the counter. The woman behind the counter looked down at the wheel and started talking really fast. She said they could fix my flat but it would be a little while before they could get around to it.

I tried to explain that my problem was a little more severe than a flat tire, but she was talking so fast I couldn't really get a word in.

Just then one of the mechanics came around the corner and fired a laser pointer right at me. I winced and threw my arm up to cover my eyes. If he managed to shine that thing in my eyes, the results would be catastrophic for everyone. And yet he obviously knew exactly what he was doing.

Shouting and swearing, I tried to go after the evil mechanic. I had to stop him... although if I didn't, it would scarcely matter. Because everyone would be dead.

But the mechanic slipped away and dodged behind a car. For some reason I was moving way too slowly to catch him.

Looking down, I saw that my entire pantleg was soaked with blood. Blood was trickling onto the floor. The blood created a crimson pool that was spreading out all around my feet.

I could hardly feel my leg. I could hardly walk.

Posted by philip at 11:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I had a dream that I was walking up a street in Halifax with a couple of friends. It was after midnight and we were on our way to some downtown bar to catch a live band.

I happened to walk past where my car was parked. A cop was standing there. It looked like she was getting ready to write out a ticket.

I went right up to her and said, "Hey, what's going on?"

The cop pointed at my car. "I'm writing you a ticket. You're blocking the driveway," she said. "You're lucky I don't have it towed."

I bent over sideways and checked out the back bumper of my car. My bumper was sticking out maybe a half-inch past where the curb sloped down. The driveway in question was very wide. My car certainly wasn't blocking anything.

I stood up and stared straight at the cop until she looked up from her notepad. Then I slowly opened my mouth.

A bunch of spiders came rushing out of my mouth. Lots of spiders. Dozens and dozens of spiders.

Black ones, brown ones, big ones, little ones, with furry little bodies and wriggly legs. Hundreds of spiders. They poured out of my mouth and fell down onto the ground, landing in a big squirmy pool at my feet before scurrying off in all directions across the sidewalk.

A few of the spiders ran straight for the cop and climbed up onto her shoes. She exclaimed in disgust and tried to shake them off her feet and brush them off with her notepad. She backed away into the street and started freaking out a little bit.

My friends and I thought all of this was really funny. The cop, not so much.

Posted by philip at 02:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was standing out in the ditch by the dirt road, trimming some bushes with a pair of red-handled shears. The day was grey and overcast. It was hot. I was dressed in t-shirt and shorts and I was sweating.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

I tried to turn to climb out of the ditch but found I couldn't move. I looked down and branches were growing up through my shoes and all around my feet. The branches rose and and wound around my legs, immobilizing me.

At waist-height some of the branches grew twigs that sprouted buds. Then the buds opened out into large leaves, green and glossy.

On every leaf there was a caterpillar. Each caterpillar was acting out a different domestic scene.

One of the caterpillars was doing some ironing. Another was making toast. Yet another appeared to be relaxing on a little caterpillar couch, watching a miniature TV.

Posted by philip at 09:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I know I probably shouldn't do this but lately I've been obsessed with watching the three Jason Bourne movies over and over.

Twice recently I've had a nightmare where I'm driving the wrong way down a highway into oncoming traffic. I swerve and dodge around big trucks and somehow manage to avoid hitting anything until I can pull my car over.

Once I've stopped the vehicle my first impulse is to sit there for a minute, catch my breath and let the adrenalin rush simmer down a bit. But I don't do this. Instead I quickly turn the car around and merge right back into the stream of traffic.

I drive back the way I came, past the chaos I've just caused, one more car among cars. No one knows about the role I played in all this highway disruption.

Later on in the dream, I might overhear a conversation from an angry trucker whose load slid off his truck. Or I might learn about a man who damaged his car when he swerved onto the shoulder of the highway and hit a guardrail.

I say nothing.

I don't believe in "karma" necessarily but this week I've been feeling like I'm on the wrong end of something.

Posted by philip at 11:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

We were careful when we briefed the sniper. The courtyard was bordered by buildings on all four sides, with a tower in each corner. Pathways ran around the perimeter and also digonally across the courtyard, with the fifth and largest tower positioned at the centre of the "X."

The sniper agreed with our assessment that the centre tower would provide the most advantageous position. The target could appear at any time at any one of the towers, such that it would be salutary to behave as though one believed in teleportation.

The focus of the sniper. So intent was he on the task ahead of him, he failed to notice that the photograph of the target we circulated after the meeting was a photograph of him.

Posted by philip at 10:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The first thing I noticed was that the grass on the hospital lawn was such a bright shade of green. It surprised me. Everything had been so grey when I had been admitted in the damp, dreary month of April.

I took a deep breath and wondered what else might have changed in the past two months. Many questions were bouncing around my head as I cut across the parking lot to the bus stop.

Had I pretended to be sick in order to get into the hospital?

Or had I pretended to be well in order to get out?

Posted by philip at 03:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I was jolted awake this morning by the rattling sound of a diesel engine starting up.

A truck? Why is there a truck in my driveway? No... not my driveway. Where am I? ...OK. I know where I am.

I tried to chase down the dream I'd been having but it was receding fast. Something was... moving... No, it's gone. I can't remember it.

One sentence remained stuck in my head, balanced on the knife-edge of consciousness, as if it were the last sentence spoken in a conversation just as I was awakened:

"I need you to find the machine that brings women back from the dead."

Posted by philip at 11:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The sound that I had taken to be the hum of traffic from a nearby highway actually turned out to be coming from much closer. When I looked outside I saw mosquitoes--swarms of them. Over the past hour the buzzing of the mosquitoes had risen to a steady drone.

I realized that every window in the hotel had a thick enough cloud of insects gathering outside it to darken the mid-afternoon sun. The meeting had been temporarily adjourned as everyone stared at the bugs, reluctant to get too close to the windows.

Some of the mosquitoes had landed and were dragging their diamond-hard proboscises down the outside of the boardroom window, scoring tiny white lines in the pane of glass.

In the back of the crowd, without anyone noticing, I had pulled up the sleeve of my shirt. There were spiders attached to the skin of my arm. Three large spiders, black and furry, were stuck like leeches to my left forearm.

Posted by philip at 05:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I haven't been remembering dreams lately in Montreal. I hope when I get back to the woods I can enjoy some deep relaxing sleep again.

Last night I crashed on Nelson's couch in beautiful Vermont. I dreamed about a twenty-first century version of a photo booth.

The way it worked was, you would sit down in the booth, and this robot dome would come down over your head. A bunch of sharp buzzing clippers would start up in the dome and give you an automatic mechanical terrible haircut. Then the dome would retract and a mirror would appear in front of you. A video camera would record your reaction as you were shown your new hairstyle for the first time.

The resulting video would then be uploaded to a special webpage on YouTube.

Posted by philip at 10:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The giant is only visible as a silhouette on the city skyline. He shows himself as a shadow in the spaces between buildings.

The giant’s hand is large enough to pick up two taxicabs at once. He plucks the taxis right off the street and raises them to the height of a skyscraper.

The giant squeezes the cars in his massive fist.

A warm rain of gasoline and blood is falling on Montreal.

Posted by philip at 11:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In the dream, I’m on my way to make peace with Bobby Sands.

Bobby’s my next-door neighbour, but we haven’t been very neighbourly lately. It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken. So long that I can hardly remember what set off the feud in the first place. Something trivial.

Now Bobby’s in jail and he’s starving himself and he’s going to die.

When I pull up to the prison grounds, a silent ambulance arrives at the same time as I do. The sky is clouding over and turning purple. That’s when I realize that I’m too late.

Posted by philip at 09:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I’m in a factory. There’s a conveyor belt with hundreds of tin cans flowing by every minute. A woman’s voice drones over a loudspeaker, narrating the contents of the cans in a dull monotone.

The noise and clamor of the factory are really fucking irritating. I look down and and I’m holding a huge sledgehammer in my hands.

When I look back up I’m standing outdoors in a meadow full of tall grass and bushes. But the sky and the plants are all gray. The same shade of steely-gray as the hammer-head.

Posted by philip at 07:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

A test-tube full of frozen blood. A slush of frozen red crystals.

It falls through the air turning slowly like a screw.

Someone reached inside my body and took something out.

Posted by philip at 04:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I watched as a huge waterfall came roaring down over the sides of one of the tallest buildings in Montreal. I could clearly see it happening from my bedroom window. It looked like it would be enough of a torrent to engulf an entire street and flood the neighbourhood with poison.

Then the phone rang in my dream and I ran out of my room to answer it. When I got downstairs a certain lady I used to know was standing there holding the phone.

It appeared that she had removed most of her clothes. Her face was expressionless as she hung up the telephone and moved in close to press her body against me.

Posted by philip at 06:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It’s summertime and the sun’s going down and I’m walking west on Rene-Levesque. There are no cars on the street, no people in sight. It feels like I’ve been walking forever. I need to get somewhere, but I can’t remember where I'm going. So I’m just walking.

There’s a tall row of corn growing down the middle of the street. The cornstalks seem to stretch off into the infinite distance. They throw long purple shadows across the pavement.

The air is warm and still as I walk past empty skyscrapers.

A small child is standing amongst the corn and rattling something around in a plastic bucket. He tries to shield the bucket so I can’t see inside, but I walk over and take a look anyway.

He’s got a bunch of bicycle parts and animal jawbones in there.

Posted by philip at 11:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The cat threw up on the wall. The walls contain cancer. The building itself is sick. The walls, the floors, the ceiling.

The bricks and the concrete. The building is rotting away from the inside out.

I sit in the dark basement with one of my boots resting in a puddle. Water drips down from some unseen crack.

It stinks down here. All I can smell is mold and rotting vegetables.

I’m wrapping my knuckles with duct tape to try to stop the bleeding.

Posted by philip at 09:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was flying through space inside a guided missile (not like that’s a phallic symbol or anything). My point-of-view was from the nose cone of the missile as it flew down through the Earth's atmosphere, down to Montreal, and roared straight down Murray Street.

The streets and the sidewalks, the cars, every surface was covered with snow. But instead of being normal snow it was topped off with a thick orange crust, like a creamsicle. Everything, everywhere was orange.

A bunch of ripples in the surface had risen up into shapes resembling evil orange snowmen. These creatures were tall, vaguely anthropomorphic shapes that maintained a seamless connection to the ground.

A bunch of these creamsicle soldiers were standing in a parking lot as if they were guarding a warehouse. The missile flew straight up to the biggest one of the group and rammed right into it.

A hatch in the missile popped open and I climbed out.

I walked around in the parking lot for a while. My heavy boots left footprints in the creamsicle surface.

Posted by philip at 11:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Last night I dreamed I was playing tennis with Sandra Bullock.

I don’t remember who was winning, but Sandra had the serve and it was taking her forever.

“Hurry up and serve,” I yelled across the court.

Sandra started twitching and making funny little jerking motions with her head. She raised her racket in the air and brought it down again.

I kept my stance at the baseline, feeling tense.

Sandra held the ball in front of her. I could see her grip it tightly. The bright afternoon sunlight glinted in her cold, flashing blue eyes.

Sandra Bullock doesn’t have blue eyes!

I ran and jumped over the net and went running at her and I swung my arm as hard as I could and I smashed her right in the face with my tennis racket. The strings of my racket cut into her flesh and passed right through her face, splitting her head into a molecular grid. Blue energy from Sandra’s plasma-brain surged through these cracks in a blinding flash.

Sandra’s body lurched and struggled to remain upright. The tennis ball in her hand was a ticking hand grenade. I leapt backwards, covering my face. The bomb exploded and I was thrown back hard against a chain link fence.

I lay on the edge of the court, unable to breathe. My back was hurting. It felt as if all the air had been squeezed out of my lungs.

Through the dust and haze of the explosion, where the robot Sandra had once stood, I could see a crater in the ground.

There was an armchair in the middle of the crater. A baby was sitting in the armchair, smoking a pipe.

I woke up choking and gasping for breath.

Posted by philip at 12:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I had the dream about Yelle again. The one where she’s reclining on a red heart-shaped bed and waiting for me to arrive.

But what Yelle doesn’t know is that her room has been bricked up behind a wall of the hotel. And even if I could find her, there’s no way I could get to her, not unless the dream world decides to bless me with a cock that doubles as a pneumatic drill.

And she’s lonely, and she’s waiting for me, and her vibrator batteries are starting to run out.

Posted by philip at 03:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I had a dream last night about a horse. The horse turned into a boy. And the boy had no face. He screamed in silence from a painting on the wall.

The nightclub was due to be torn down on Monday.

Posted by philip at 10:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm curled up on the couch with my eyes squeezed shut. The robots are coming for me. They're going to stick a fork in me. Stick the two prongs straight up my nose, into my brain.

A robot brain. A machine brain. That's what we'll be left with. Computer screens for eyes. Always watching.

A computer never blinks. Always looking, never seeing. Just a giant pair of machine-eyes staring straight into all the flickering lights.

They don't want you to bleed any more. They don't want you to be alive. They don't want you to shit or to stink, to bleed or to feel pain, they don't want you to feel anything at all.

They need to know the horror... They need to know that I had to cut in order to stay alive. In order to prove that I am still alive.

That's why I did it.

Posted by philip at 09:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was already a murderer. Everyone agreed it was self-defence; they were quick to reach this conclusion for me.

But did I really have to kill the guy?

I will always be a killer.

Posted by philip at 01:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I was sitting at a table by myself in a Chinese restaurant. The walls of the restaurant were shimmering constantly in different shades of purple, from lavender to deep dark violet and back.

I had placed my order and I was waiting and waiting. It seemed like it was taking forever for my food to arrive.

In the meantime, I was bleeding everywhere because I'd taken out a Swiss army knife and cut my body in 30 different places.

Posted by philip at 10:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was walking up Robie Street. I walked past a construction site. They were building the Maritime Glass Heart Centre.

There were glass bones strewn all about the site.

Bones made of glass. Embedded in concrete, buried in the sand.

Posted by philip at 03:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dropped my iBook and it fell down the stairs. It fell end-over-end, bumpity bump bump, hitting every single step on its way down to the bottom.

At the foot of the staircase a woman bent down to pick up my computer.

Zoom in on her forearm: smooth and hairless and blotchy.

Posted by philip at 10:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I sit at a table at a classy restaurant eating a plate of spaghetti. Instead of meatballs, the spaghetti has a bunch of microchips all mixed in with it.

Across from me sits a red-haired woman. She's actully quite attractive. She's singing to herself, a Van Morrison song.

One by one, she pulls long pins out of her hair, and sticks them in her eyeballs.

Posted by philip at 07:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Death babies send crying sounds on TV over satellite. Babies communicate by crying. A wet diaper in every mailbox in Canada. Babies everywhere Fed-Exing dirty diapers to all citizens. The baby war has begun.

Morale is low as many find it difficult to inflict violence upon an infant.

Pitchforks selling out at hardware supply stores. The baby war has many casualties. Where do they come from? Where the fuck are all these babies coming from?

Pregnant women. The womb of the earth in an Arctic laboratory deep underneath the tundra. Baffin Island, maybe Ellesmere.

Babies are born in the cold from stolen sperm of Nazi war criminals.

Posted by philip at 02:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've been having this recurring dream where I have to find out who murdered my sister.

Except I never had a sister.

Or did I?

Posted by philip at 10:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

In my dream, purple office towers were throwing long sunset shadows over the plaza.

They were out to get me so I was on the run. I engaged the enemy where and when I could, like some kind of futuristic urban guerrilla.

I leaned against the building and pressed my forehead against the glass wall. In an instant I projected myself inside. I ran like a maniac, down through corridors, stairwells, elevator shafts. Within a fraction of a second I arrived inside the central control room.

I knew I only had time for one shot. I aimed my gun at the heart of the machine and nearly hit it. Then security clamped down and I had to unplug.

Back out on the street, I could tell right away I'd done some damage to the programme.

Citizens throughout the downtown continued to talk and laugh as usual. But they were all stuck walking around and around in little circles, as though they each had one foot nailed to the ground.

I remember thinking: It's not pretty, but it's war.

Posted by philip at 10:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

My grandmother passed away two years ago this month. Last night I dreamed I was visiting her gravesite.

The Baptist cemetery is just up the road from the house. The area is hemmed in by tall black trees. The trees seem to hum and sing in silence.

A trail of footprints follows me through the snow behind the abandoned church. I try to read the inscription on an ancient obelisk but the writing is worn away.

The dream is pretty close to how it was in real life.

Except this is some future time, some future Earth. The clouds are iron and soft grey ash falls from the sky instead of rain.

Posted by philip at 03:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was passed out on the sidewalk on a city street. I had no shirt on and the concrete was hot against my chest.

I was looking down at myself as though my spirit were floating up above the ground. Then my spirit swooped down and entered my body and I woke up.

I was conscious and was looking at my left arm as it sprawled out into the street. At that moment a garbage truck came along and ran over my hand.

The garbage truck seemed to have four or five sets of wheels. Every one of them went straight over my hand, crushing it into the pavement.

I stood up. I stumbled across the sidewalk towards the cowboy hat store. I wasn't really in pain but I felt kind of dizzy.

I stopped in front of the cowboy hat store and looked at my reflection in the glass.

Then I was inside the store looking out at myself. I could see myself through the display of cowboy hats in the window.

I watched myself slowly raise my arm into the air.

My hand flopped down. Each of my fingers was a long thin skin-bag full of shattered bones.

Posted by philip at 10:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I was walking through the food court in Scotia Square in Halifax. It was lunchtime and the place was crowded.

I got the sense that someone was watching me. A woman, halfway across the courtyard.

I kept walking towards her and it was a little difficult to be casual about the fact that we were staring straight at each other. She was tall and slender, with green eyes, short blonde hair and a green dress.

I stopped beside her table and glanced down at her, looked away and then looked back at her again.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello."

She was smiling. "I'd like to sleep with you tonight."

Her statement took me by surprise. Pleasantly.

The thing is, she had me. I'd been blatantly checking her out and there was no chance of playing it cool or elusive in this situation.

So I clicked my tongue and smiled back and said: "Yes."

The scene changed and the two of us were at some dimly-lit, smoky bar. I was standing a little ways off while she engaged in a heated argument with another man.

Two things dawned on me at once. First of all, this man was her boyfriend. Or at least he thought of himself as such, and didn't seem too thrilled about changing his mind.

Second of all, he was Ozzy Osbourne. A young Ozzy, only about 23 or 24. She kept calling him "John."

Ozzy was being very insistent. He was getting in close to her, trying to grab her shoulders and turn her around to face him.

She kept saying, "No, John."

After a while of this, I walked up to her and hooked my fingers around her arm. I leaned over and said softly, "Hey. C'mere."

We walked away together and did not look back. And that is how I stole Ozzy Osbourne's hot girlfriend.

I understood why she'd been so forward in the food court. There's nothing like a lady on the rebound.

Then I dreamed that we went back to my place and I undressed her and pushed her down on my bed and did whatever I wanted with her.

I woke up this morning in quite a state.

Posted by philip at 09:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I dreamed I joined NASA and I was getting ready to blast off on a one-man suicide mission to the planet Neptune.

I had said all my good-byes to friends and family. At the launch pad there was a big press conference where everyone talked about my historic undertaking.

In preparation for liftoff, I was being strapped into the space capsule by a couple of anonymous technicians and it occurred to me that these were the last human beings I would ever lay eyes on.

The journey across the solar system would take a long time. Many years. I would have radio contact for the first while, but eventually that would fizzle out and die.

I would be killed when the spacecraft crash-landed on the surface of the planet Neptune. But I would see things that no other human being had ever seen.

Posted by philip at 09:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Once in a while I have nightmares. There are a few different types. Some of the scariest are the ones where the dream reality is completely normal with the exception of one small, unsettling detail.

I dreamed I was standing outside the doors of a large one-story brick building. It might have been a medical centre or a dentist's office or some such thing. It was raining out, but there was an overhang I could wait underneath to keep dry.

A concrete walkway ran alongside the building beneath the overhang. At the far end of the walkway, up towards the corner of the building, I noticed an unattended baby stroller.

I started walking towards the baby stroller.

I couldn't see the baby. But as I got closer I could hear it, shuffling around in its seat, making little baby noises.

I reached the stroller and stepped around in front of it.

It was a baby boy, in a little blue hat. The baby raised its head and looked up at me.

The baby had a Hitler moustache.

It was absolutely terrifying.

At that moment I realized I was torn between my strong aversion to committing violence upon an infant, and my duty to save the human race by splitting open this baby's skull with an axe.

Posted by philip at 09:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I dreamed I went out through a window. I was outside in the Satanic Garden.

I could reach out and touch the white stucco walls of the mansion, the white trellises with green climbing vines.

You could wander around in the Satanic Garden. The trellises and hedges were arranged in a sort of labyrinth. But there was no chance of getting lost, because you could always keep the mansion in sight.

I walked down a long path that ran parallel to the mansion. At the end of the path was a section of fence that seemed to be glowing in an unusual way.

I knelt down and pulled away a small section of the fence to reveal a secret cubbyhole. There was something hidden inside.

I saw a small black box with a bunch of flashing coloured lights on it. I reached in and pulled it out.

It was a computer map of the whole area.

Posted by philip at 11:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I don't know why Angelina Jolie has appeared in a couple of my dreams recently. I'm not one of those guys who finds her mind-bogglingly attractive. Of course, I wouldn't kick her out of my bed...

Anyway. I dreamed I was on the set of Angelina's new cooking show. I was hanging out at the back, lurking in the dark behind the studio audience.

Angelina was standing in this brightly-lit studio kitchen, wearing a little apron and showing how to make an omelette or something.

I was thinking that she seemed too serious about it, that the show might be more entertaining if she were to lighten up a bit, put some humour into it.

One of the crew came up and stood beside me. He was wearing thick glasses and some kind of headset. I had the bad feeling that he was going to try to talk to me.

He leaned over and said with a leer, "Could you imagine putting it to that every night?"

I said, "Dude. She's my sister."

Posted by philip at 06:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I dreamed they were taking good care of me at the school cafeteria.

The woman in charge said, "We're not really supposed to open for another twenty minutes, but we really appreciate what you've been doing. She'll find something for you to eat."

So I went into the dining area and there was this Goth girl getting the food ready. All they were serving was a casserole that was made of alternating layers of Kraft Dinner and bacon.

There were several pans filled with this steaming orange concoction. The Goth girl dolloped a whole bunch of it onto a plate for me.

I was thinking: "I wonder why they think what I'm doing is all that important. There's really nothing to it."

Then I heard a whiny, nasal voice saying "I'm glad somebody can get some service around here."

I turned around and it was this guy who looked just like the guy with the hairdo from the band Interpol. He looked just like him and was even dressed just like him. Except he was only about four foot six.

Posted by philip at 06:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I dreamed I was wanted for murder. It was self-defence, but I knew no one would believe me, so I was running.

I saw the cops pull up to the front of the building and I ran out the back. I was running as hard and as fast as I could. I could feel my pores start to prickle with sweat.

These prickles became more intense as I ran. Pretty soon they were starting to burn. With every step I struggled to breathe as my flesh became hotter and hotter.

All the skin started to peel off my face and my arms. My bones were orange and red.

Then I was lying on a hammock in a submarine. There was a table beside the hammock and I was playing cards with a couple of the guys.

There was a TV on in the background. The news was coming on. I was scared shitless because I knew they would be all over the story of the murder.

There was lots of background noise in the room. The guys didn't seem to be paying too much attention to the TV. I badly wanted to shut off the TV or change the channel, but I knew if I got up to do so I would only wind up drawing attention to it.

So I kept playing cards, and I tried to act as nonchalant as possible, and I prayed no one would notice me on TV.

Posted by philip at 11:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I dreamed that a friend of mine was trying to set me up with some work. Some friends of hers were in a band, and they were looking for a sound tech to take out on tour with them.

She brought me down to hear a soundcheck by the band. They were decent musicians. I was trying not to be biased. I had previously overheard some people talking about how much they sucked.

I stood at the back of the empty club as they kicked into a song.

The singer was wearing a lot of black eyeliner. He came across as a bit of a knob. The band as a whole seemed to take themselves pretty seriously. I could tell I was going to have some issues with these guys.

Part of the lyrics went like this: "Murder the man in the moustache... murder the man in the moustache."

My friend was clearly very excited at the thought of hooking me up with this band. I wasn't sure what to tell her.

Posted by philip at 08:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Sometimes my dreams are like a pornographic movie theater of the mind.

I dreamed I was hanging out with a certain lady... We'd been at a bar but we left to go outside. We were sitting beside a building underneath the fire escape.

We were touching each other, light touches. I ran my fingers through her hair. She stroked my thigh, squeezed it.

We were totally hot for each other. It seemed as though we were hidden enough from the street that probably not many people passing by would be able to see us. Without warning she whipped off her t-shirt. All she was wearing underneath was a thin little tank top.

I took her waist in my hands and pulled her close to me, lifted up her top and started licking and sucking her breasts. Then we were naked, she was lying on her back and I was licking her pussy. She was moaning and writhing all around. We were on a couch that had just somehow appeared underneath this fire escape.

Finally we just had to get out of there. We decided to head back to her place.

No sooner had we gotten all our clothes back on, than her friend popped out from around the corner. "Hi guys! Whatcha doin'?"

Her friend proceeded to sit down on the couch with us and start making all kinds of casual small talk.

Meanwhile, our legs were shaking because we wanted to fuck so bad.

~ Different dream. Different lady. We were fooling around in a park. We were hidden away behind a little brick building, and we decided that we were going to have sex, right there, outdoors in plain daylight.

I tore open a condom wrapper. The condom was already half-unrolled, which was strange. I got it onto the end of my cock and then I noticed it had cat hair all over it.

I had somehow gotten some of the cat hair all over my chest and arms as well. At first I tried to be nonchalant and brush it away. But it wasn't brushing away too easily.

Finally I stopped and looked at my lady.

She looked down at the hair-covered condom and said, "Yeah, like I'm really gonna stick that in me."

I said, "Hold on a minute. I'll go clean this up."

The bathroom was in another brick building across the park. I picked up my clothes, but I didn't put them on. Instead I carried them and ran across the park barefoot while doing the naked-man crouch.

I got to the bathroom and tried to open the door but it was locked. "Occupied," someone yelled from inside.

I held my clothes in a bundle in front of me and did the naked-man dance.

Posted by philip at 01:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed it was my turn to go visit the spit whirlpool.

The spit whirlpool was as old as the universe and every living human had to visit it--one person at a time.

In the dream the visit was meant to be some kind of ritualistic thing. Connecting with the universe or some such thing.

I got to the edge of the spit whirlpool and it was this great gobby vortex.

I spat into the whirlpool and watched it whirling down and down and down.

Posted by philip at 12:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was in Charlottetown, PEI, on the main street that runs down towards the park with the statue.

There was this old man in a wheelchair. In the dream he seemed to be well known to the locals. He was always cruising around downtown wearing a hard hat and a huge pair of headphones.

I came out on the sidewalk and he was looking all around my car. He parked his wheelchair right behind the car. He seemed to be peering down at my license plate and writing down a bunch of stuff in a little coil notebook on his lap.

I wasn't sure if he could hear me with the headphones on. I said loudly, "What are you doing?"

He jumped as if I'd scared the shit out of him. He didn't speak, but he started hyperventilating and freaking out. I got the sense that my words had triggered some kind of panic attack.

I had no idea what to do. I didn't want to say anything because I was afraid that if I spoke, I would only make things worse.

Finally he started gesturing and pointing down the street. I grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and started pushing him quickly in the direction he indicated. All the while he was shaking and gasping for breath.

I was thinking, "What am I gonna do for this guy? Where the hell is he taking us...?"

I wish I could remember how this dream ended. All I can remember after that is a part where a bunch of people were riding snowboards.

Posted by philip at 11:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was hungry but too lazy to cook. So I swallowed a bunch of microwave popcorn and went for a chest x-ray.

The technician pointed the x-ray machine straight at me and powered it up. It made a hum that grew progressively louder.

A muted popping sound began in my belly. It sounded like a whole bunch of kung-fu movies playing at once.

Suddenly my stomach exploded. Popcorn flew everywhere. All the equipment burst into flames as the technician fled the room. I wanted to run, but I was wearing a lead apron.

Then the technician returned to the room carrying a fire extinguisher and a giant salt shaker.

Posted by philip at 01:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I had three penises and all of them were small. They were these nubby little things.

I stood in front of the television with my pants down, and my three penises started to revolve around each other, slowly at first, then faster. A blue glow started to flicker between them.

A Ghostbusters-style beam of pure energy blasted out of the end of my penises and zapped the TV screen. The beam caused the beautiful TV star on the screen to instantly age 50 years.

This happened right in the middle of her interview with E-Talk Daily.

Posted by philip at 09:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The prison has just opened and none of the inmates have arrived yet.

In the dream I'm part of a small group that is touring the facility. The warden shows us a room with a hot tub and a spa. Then he says "You might like this" and leads me into a room with a fully-equipped recording studio.

The scene changes and I'm standing in front of a countertop making a sandwich. What I remember most is the vivid red of the plastic wrapper on the loaf of bread.

The wrapper is open and pieces of bread are spilling out onto the counter. I'm holding five or six pieces of bread in my left hand. I'm spreading Dijon mustard on each of the slices, one by one.

All around the room are shelves full of loaves of bread in their bright red plastic bags.

Posted by philip at 05:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm working on an assembly line with a bunch of guys who all look the same.

They're all clones from the carpet factory. They were sent over because the original humans kept quitting the assembly line. In fact, I'm the only real human left in the whole plant. Everyone else is one of these carpet factory guys that roam around like zombies.

It occurs to me that they're only keeping me around because they're planning to eat my brain and turn my body into a rug. I'm trying to think of ways to get out of there.

Apparently there is some legal technicality that will allow me to kill all the clones. Something like, they can legally be suffocated, but not poisoned. Or is it the other way around? I'm trying my hardest but I can't remember.

Then the dream changes and I'm having a whole bunch of sex with a married woman in the back seat of someone's car.

Posted by philip at 03:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

They're counting down to launch the nuclear missiles, and I'm scared because the whole thing is a big misunderstanding.

I've been trying to get into the Premier's office to explain everything (the dream takes place in Russia and everyone's speaking Russian, including me). I'm running down a long fancy hallway, opening doors at random, trying to find the office of the official officer in charge of nuclear destruction.

When I reach the end of the hallway, I notice a smell that reminds me of frying steak. I pull open the door to the emergency stairs. There's a whole crew of people standing on the landing having a big barbecue.

"Surprise!" they yell in Russian.

Then someone calls out "1-2-3-4" and the band kicks in. The band is The Pogues and they're performing "If I Should Fall From Grace With God." There's lots of food and pretty girls and lots of people dancing.

I try to tell a couple of people about the missiles, but no one seems too worried about it.

Posted by philip at 10:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was in Moncton, New Brunswick in the middle of a record-breaking snowstorm.

I'm hiding out in a bus shelter. Even though it's a flimsy structure and the storm is raging all around me, I don't feel cold or even the slightest bit uncomfortable.

There's a baby stroller in the shelter with me and it's full of cans of fruit cocktail. I open the cans one by one and eat a bunch of fruit and then pour the rest out on the ground.

After I'm done, I throw the can out the door of the shelter, where the wind grabs it and whips it away into the storm.

Posted by philip at 04:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In my dream I'm watching TV. The picture is bad and I don't like what I'm seeing but I can't change the channel.

Suddenly the picture comes in crystal-clear. It's a wireframe 3-D diagram of a saucer-shaped UFO.

The image revolves around and around and I can hear a voice, it's not coming from the TV speakers but it's right inside my head, and it's saying "You must not reveal the secret to anyone."

I pick up the remote control and shut off the TV. Then I'm down at the corner store buying a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips and a can of root beer.

I'm arguing with the clerk because he won't sell me one individual cigarette, which is odd because I don't smoke.

Posted by philip at 08:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm down at the onion farm. Emily is there, telling me all about growing onions. There's a red-and-white striped silo and an old-fashioned tractor.

Smoke comes out of Emily's mouth when she talks even though she's not a smoker.

Suddenly I realize that the silo is on fire. Flames are shooting out the top of it. I go to tell Emily but when I look at her, she grins an evil grin. Through the black smoke I can see flames in her mouth. She gives a low chuckle.

It all sounds sinister, but in the dream it was actually kind of funny.

Posted by philip at 10:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was floating through space.

There was a giant castle that was orbiting the sun, almost like a planet unto itself. I needed fuel so I docked at the side of the castle.

There was a hole in one of the side walls, and the way I fueled up was to stick my dick in the hole. It was very refreshing.

A bunch of swirly black-and-white hypnotism patterns started playing in front of my eyes. Then I woke up, or at least I don't remember what else happened.

Posted by philip at 12:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dream I'm drinking tea with a woman. We're sitting in a log cabin that's also a fancy apartment in the city.

She's telling me about how she hates her name, which is Edith. I'm trying to tell her that Edith is an ancient name, a beautiful name, and no one in the 21st century should be able to give her any crap about her name. I'm being very passionate about this, mostly because I want to bang her so bad.

Then she stands up and opens up her robe and shows me her body and it is stunning, utterly spectacular. A huge cloud of butterflies comes flying out of her robe and engulfs my body. All the butterflies turn into bits of coloured tinfoil and chocolate kisses that rain down all around me.

Then I'm down on my hands and knees in a tastefully-lit car showroom. It's nighttime and I'm the only person in the whole place.

I can't leave the showroom because I'm locked in, so I climb into the back seat of a Mercedes and curl up into a little ball.

Posted by philip at 11:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I'm standing beside the fountain in Centennial Park. They sky is overcast and it feels like it's about to rain.

In the dream I've been waiting a long time, but I'm not sure for what or whom.

Newspapers are blowing around the park in the wind. Sometimes the newspapers will form into the shapes of animals, little cats and dogs that will run around the park and play for a few moments before dissolving back into newspapers.

Some of the newspapers form into the shape of a tricycle. The tricycle just sits there at the corner of a the concrete walkway.

Then I'm lying on my back at the foot of a long sloping driveway. The tricycle starts rolling down the driveway towards me. No one is riding it.

The tricycle speeds up as it comes closer and closer. It's definitely going to run me over. At the last second I close my eyes. When I wake up my eyes are still closed.

Posted by philip at 02:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I got to dream that I was a helicopter pilot. It was cool!

I had a weird flash where I knew I was dreaming and I could do whatever I wanted. So I flew to Paris and buzzed around the Eiffel Tower looking at fashion models through a telescope.

Some dude in a hot air balloon was yelling at me in French. I just sort of ignored him. Then the whole "this is a cool dream and I'm in complete control" part went out the window, when he stood up and he was aiming a rocket-propelled grenade launcher at me.

The whirling blades of the helicopter transformed into a buzzing blender. I was sitting at the counter of a small-town diner where I had just ordered a chocolate milkshake.

The waitress put the metal milkshake container down in front of me. I looked inside and it was full of little crawling baby mice.

Posted by philip at 03:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was having sex with these two hot Polish girls. They were smiling the whole time, like BIG smiles, with teeth. It was a bit unnerving.

Then the dream changed and I was lying on the top shelf of a bookshelf, all scrunched up into this shelf, ten feet above the floor.

It was in the back of some ancient used bookstore. An elderly lady was browsing through the store while carrying a bunch of helium balloons. She was down on the floor right below me and the balloons were tickling my nose.

I didn't want her to know I was there because I was afraid she would start asking me a bunch of questions.

Posted by philip at 09:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm driving one of those little Shriner mini-cars, cruising through tree-lined suburban streets.

Then I drive through a gate and I come out the other side and I'm out on the ice in the middle of a hockey game. It's a playoff game and everyone in the crowd is laughing at me and my Shriner car in the middle of the action.

I'm trying to steer towards the penalty box to get off the ice, but the wheels of the car have no traction and I wind up spinning all over the place. I bang into Todd Bertuzzi and knock him flat on his ass.

He gets up and snarls and raises his hockey stick to club me with it.

I notice that the blade of his stick has a tooth growing out of it.

Posted by philip at 12:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This is like the sequel to my AC/DC dream. I dreamed I was at a Public Enemy concert in Montreal. Except Flavor Flav couldn't make it so I had been asked to replace Flavor.

I was all stressed out because we were supposed to go onstage in two minutes and I couldn't find my microphone anywhere.

Finally I heard an announcement. "Get ready for PUBLIC ENEMY" and the crowd went wild and the next thing I knew I was onstage in front of thousands of people performing with Public Enemy.

I was jumping around and trying to be wicked hype and fresh even though I didn't have a mic. It was a rush!

At all the right moments I would try to lean into Chuck D's mic and say "Yo Chuck" or "Yeeeeahh boyeeee" but Chuck didn't look like he was enjoying that too much so I stopped.

Posted by philip at 12:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

~ First I dreamed about Angelina Jolie. Not Angelina. Her hair. Her hair extensions. There were these two long golden-blonde braids sitting on a table. They were supposed to wind up attached to Angelina Jolie's head. Then the space heater in my bedroom kicked in, and I woke up.

~ I fell asleep again and dreamed about an apnea machine. It was this cap you wore on your head when you went to bed. It measured electrical impulses. As soon as your brain wave pattern showed that you had fallen asleep, a stick would come out and poke you in the ribs and wake you up again.

~ The third dream I had was about AC/DC. This was a parallel-universe AC/DC in which there was no Angus Young, it was just Brian Johnson singing and three hot chicks playing instruments.

I was chatting with one of the ladies and she said "We might have to cancel the concert tonight, we are desperate for a guitarist. Oh, you play? Wouldn't happen to know any of our songs, would you."

And I said "Would I," and I opened my closet to reveal a row of books on "How to Play AC/DC Songs on the Guitar."

So the next thing I knew I was onstage playing guitar for AC/DC. We opened with "Highway To Hell." The crowd was freaking out, holy shit I'm onstage with Brian Johnson and a bunch of hot chicks, SO many people here. I was losing my mind, I was all over the stage, rolling around, playing AC/DC songs on my Gibson SG. Holy shit I'm in AC/DC.

Four or five songs into our set and I was jubilant. I still couldn't get over the sheer size of the crowd. It felt amazing to have so many people giving their energy back to you. We kicked into "Let There Be Rock." I knew all the songs. All that time spent playing along with the records had paid off.

There was an instrumental part where the singer moved to the back of the stage and the band worked it out for a while. I started bringing down my playing, getting quieter and quieter. The rest of the band followed my lead. Eventually I stopped altogether.

There was no sound on the stage, just the murmuring of a restless crowd.

Then I started clapping in time to the beat of the song. The audience started clapping with me. Tens of thousands of people, all clapping along. Amazing. I didn't even know what I was going to do next but I was loving the moment.

One by one I caught everyone's eye onstage, and at an invisible count of four we all slammed into the main riff of "Let There Be Rock." By the time the song finished I was euphoric.

But then something weird happened. The song ended and I was looking around to see what to play next. Right away I heard the opening chords from "Strutter" by Kiss come over the sound system. Was the band starting a cover? No... the music was coming through the PA. The house lights were coming up. We were being hustled off the stage.

The concert is over? What's going on?

Apparently Brian Johnson had stormed off the stage in disgust. My crowd interaction had rubbed him the wrong way somehow. He wasn't even around backstage. Apparently he was furious. One of the women in the band had to explain to me.

She told me, "Brian was pretty pissed off at you. He said 'What the hell does he think this is, some kind of jam band?'"

Posted by philip at 10:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I had trouble sleeping last night. I was way too horny. Finally I dozed off and dreamed I was in Brazil making out on a couch with a beautiful Brazilian woman.

She asked me if Canadian women enjoyed sex. I didn't know what to make of the question so I said, "They sure do." She looked surprised, which I couldn't really figure out.

Then we were naked and I was licking her pussy. I remember noticing that the room we were in had a pink ceiling.

Then I was fucking her from behind and squeezing her big tits and pulling her hair, only we had to be super-quiet because a bunch of digital animators were having some sort of wrap party in the next room.

Posted by philip at 07:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I keep having these dreams where I'm being chased by cops.

These two cops are chasing me through backyards in an unfamiliar city. It's like a scene from a movie where we're climbing over fences and cutting through people's yards and jumping through sprinklers and stuff.

I go to splash through a Mr. Turtle pool and it turns out to have a false bottom with a ladder leading down into darkness. As I hurry to climb down the ladder I can still hear the cops above me: "Where did he go? Where'd that fucker go."

It's hard to say how deep the ladder goes. At the bottom it opens out into a small fallout shelter that glows with electric light.

An old man with a long grey beard sits alone at a table looking down at a chess game that seems to be in progress.

He stares down at the chessboard for a long time. Finally he looks up at me and says, "Well... looks like we're up shit crick now."

Posted by philip at 02:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I threw my coat on the bed in the hope that it would hide what was underneath the bed.

They're threatening me. They say if I don't confess they'll kill me and make it look like a suicide.

I am not I repeat NOT suicidal.

Posted by philip at 10:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I must have been hungry because I dreamed about spaghetti again. Great big pot of spaghetti, boiling on the stove.

Slowly I stirred the spaghetti in the pot. Slowly it boiled. Gradually the spaghetti absorbed all the water and congealed into a quivering, pulsing pasta-brain.

The pasta-brain was like some kind of brain-wave magnet. I could feel it pulling at my consciousness. Before long it was thinking all my thoughts for me.

The pasta-brain was thinking: "Add some cayenne pepper. Do not eat me. Place me on the middle of the highway at midnight tonight."

Posted by philip at 12:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was swinging by my legs from a trapeze. I was all alone in a huge circus tent. Back and forth, back and forth. Swinging.

Suddenly a huge spotlight came on and it was shining right in my eyes. I tried to shield my eyes with my hand as I swung upside-down. I shouted "Who the fuck is that? I'm just dicking around."

No one answered.

A bunch of Italian mobsters drove right into the circus tent and got out of their fancy cars. They proceeded to have a big mafia meeting right in the middle of the three rings.

I hung upside-down above them and listened in. They didn't realize I was up there. I heard every word.

Posted by philip at 07:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Last night I dreamed I met Kate Moss. She was dressed all in beige and looked like a ten-year-old computer. I can't remember if we had sex in my dream. I'm thinking probably.

Posted by philip at 11:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was back working at the bookstore in the mall. I opened the cash register and a very small three-piece jazz combo was performing inside the till.

I leaned over for a better look. For a second, I saw myself from the band's perspective--this great big huge eyeball swooping down to peer at them. Then it went back to my point of view again.

I was looking at this little jazz band and thinking I had to sneeze really bad. Then I woke up.

Posted by philip at 03:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Quentin Tarantino, the movie director, was in my dream last night.

A bunch of us were out at the bar just sitting around having a few drinks. Quentin was sitting at the table, talking on and on as if someone were interviewing him, only no one was asking any questions, people were just sitting there trying to get drunk.

The door burst open and a seven-foot-tall Russian guy stomped in and said "Who is strongest man in this bar?"

Quentin stood up and said "Well Junior, I guess that would be me" and it looked as though they were going to fight.

Then Frank Sinatra came on the jukebox and my chair started dancing underneath me. The chair carried me right out onto the middle of the dancefloor while it bopped around and the legs of my chair tried to do the Lindy hop.

Posted by philip at 01:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was walking through the library and pulling books off the shelf at random and putting them back in the wrong place.

I took down a book on home repair and opened it up and there was a tongue sticking out of the page. It tried to talk but since it was just a tongue without any teeth or lips all it could say was "Agggh luggghh raaalll" as it flopped around all wet and slick against the book paper.

Then the tongue started growing and flopped off the edge of the book and down to the floor. The tongue wrapped itself around my leg.

At first I tried to struggle but then I just kept walking around the library with this tongue wrapped around my leg.

Posted by philip at 11:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I had a flying dream last night.

I was in line at the fabric store and the woman in front of me was arguing with the cashier. "This isn't what I ordered. I specifically told you I wanted it in chartreuse."

So I started floating off the ground and I looked up and floated straight through the roof of the store and up into the air, and I started going higher and higher until I had passed the clouds and went straight into the upper atmosphere where I caught up with the space shuttle and had a seat on the wing.

One of the astronauts looked out the window of the shuttle cabin and I waved at him and he did a double take.

There was a laser cannon mounted on the shuttle and he swivelled it around and tried to fire at me but I was already gone.

Posted by philip at 05:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed they were making monument for me in the town square. They had to stand me up on a pillar and make a mold around me.

While I was inside the mold, I was thinking, "Do these people know who I am? If they knew what I had done, would they still think I deserve a monument?"

I was inside the mold a long time. For a while I could hear people talking outside, but after a while the voices stopped.

I could hear birds chirping. Occasionally a police siren would pass the park.

Even though I couldn't see, I got the sense that night was falling. I started to get a boner, which was uncomfortable.

It was really hot inside the mold.

Posted by philip at 10:45 PM | Permalink

It was a perfectly typical tornado. But it was mine and I liked it. I carried it around with me in a Mason jar. Sometimes I would hold it up so everyone could watch the miniature swirling weather patterns.

It was a summer afternoon and I was walking through the woods. A big black bear stood up and growled at me. He must have been eight feet tall.

I took the tornado jar and threw it into the bear's mouth. The bear bit down on the jar and broke it and cut his mouth on the glass and started bleeding all over the place.

"I'll have your leg for a sausage," growled the bear but then the tornado flew into the bear's stomach and carried it away into the sky.

I started floating up towards the treetops but the bright sunlight distracted me and I woke up.

Posted by philip at 11:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Last night I dreamed I was hammering nails into the roof of a doghouse. I missed one of the nails and hit my thumb instead. My thumb was squashed flat.

I was cursing and swearing. The dog came out of the doghouse and looked up at me and said "Quit messing around."

Then I was in my parents' living room on Park Hill Drive. I was watching a parade through the picture window. Queen Elizabeth drove by and waved.

I waved back with ten spoon-shaped fingers.

Posted by philip at 10:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In my dream I was on the Jemseg bridge and I had to pee really bad.

I whipped out my bird and started peeing off the side of the bridge. A transport truck went by and the force of its passage blew me up against the railing. I got my noodle stuck in between two of the railings.

Then I was in a laboratory and I was testing out a robot fencing machine in a fencing match. Only instead of a fencing foil, I was using my dick.

There was a woman in a white coat watching from the next room and taking notes. I wanted to go talk to her, but I couldn't leave off the experiment. Plus I had my dick in my hand.

Then I woke up and I didn't have to pee at all so I don't know why I dreamed about peeing.

Posted by philip at 10:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Last night I dreamed that a banana in my cupboard had rotted so much that it turned black, then purple, then red. The skin of the banana had become hard to the touch.

I took the banana outside and tried to fling it into the field. As I watched, it boomeranged around and flew straight back at me. The banana clocked me in the head and knocked me down on the ground.

Then my brother appeared with a clipboard in his hand. He looked down at me and smiled and ticked a few things off on the clipboard.

Posted by philip at 11:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm dressed up as a snowman. I have these white furry pants on with a fluffy little white tail. I have a real carrot for a nose. The costume is filthy.

I'm walking through a shopping mall in East Saint John. There's a woman sitting at the kiosk with an older lady.

I take off my carrot nose and hand it to the younger woman. She looks at her grandmother, who nods. Then she takes a bite out of the carrot.

Posted by philip at 10:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was lying in bed with a beautiful woman. But I had to get up early and leave because it was sabre-tooth tiger hunting season in Gaspereau Forks.

I walked through the woods, carrying my crossbow. I was looking for tracks, broken twigs, a sign.

The sabre-tooth tiger was very elusive but I knew I would find it.

Posted by philip at 09:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)