Death Hotel

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)