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Despite its first and last sentence (well, not counting this one), there is nothing mature, inappropriate, or sex-related about this post.
Apparently, if I watch gay porn about skinny emo boys directly before bed, I can have dreams about Lost Souls: The RPG, where I play as a rich white girl who runs away from home after the death of her mother and comes to join a band of young vagrants who roam about in a huge van (big enough to have clothes washers! but no dryers). Eyeliner, black nail polish, and gothic bohemian styles abound; everyone is a little effete but also sly and street-smart—except for the protagonist, who is still learning to make the transition from spoiled rich kid to canny lost soul. The close-knit group breaks down social norms, bunking in one another's beds and cuddling together; they also come together as a self-sufficient clan, everyone chipping in to afford provisions and some possessing a bit of magic that helps keep the van running and the chores done. The story arc is a rambling cross-country journey and the plot is an investigation into and unveiling of the protagonist's past—and all of her family's closeted skeletons. Orwell makes a cameo appearance.
In other words: Best dream ever.
The dream was made that much better by the fact that, on my first night away from home, the night when I ran into the little vagabond clan, I had to decide whether or not I was a vegetarian. I was ordering from an overpriced menu, trying to find something cheap but filling to sustain me as I started my long journey. There were promising meat dishes, spawning an inner debate between "but I'm a vegetarian!" and "but it's just a dream!"
Dreams where I know they're such please me. I've always taken issue with dreams because I dislike the loss of control—the idea that my brain takes strange, random, often violent and upsetting journeys on a nightly basis without so much as a by-your-leave makes me feel powerless. Over the years, I've gained some tolerance for the loss of control—and, even better, I've gained some ability to lucid dream. I rarely have all-out lucid dreams where I'm entirely in control, but I'm often aware of the fact that I'm dreaming and, whether or not that allows me to make decisions within the dream, the knowledge that it's just a dream gives me a bit of distance and safety, even as the dream occurs.
With few exceptions, this wasn't one of my frightening, awful dreams—in fact the premise was wonderful, to a person of my particular tastes. Knowing that it was a dream ironically gave me more freedom to let go and just enjoy it. My dreams are often crazy-weird but they're rarely crazy-awesome. This one made me want to keep on sleeping. Perhaps the lesson here is: more skinny gay boys directly before bed.
Apparently, if I watch gay porn about skinny emo boys directly before bed, I can have dreams about Lost Souls: The RPG, where I play as a rich white girl who runs away from home after the death of her mother and comes to join a band of young vagrants who roam about in a huge van (big enough to have clothes washers! but no dryers). Eyeliner, black nail polish, and gothic bohemian styles abound; everyone is a little effete but also sly and street-smart—except for the protagonist, who is still learning to make the transition from spoiled rich kid to canny lost soul. The close-knit group breaks down social norms, bunking in one another's beds and cuddling together; they also come together as a self-sufficient clan, everyone chipping in to afford provisions and some possessing a bit of magic that helps keep the van running and the chores done. The story arc is a rambling cross-country journey and the plot is an investigation into and unveiling of the protagonist's past—and all of her family's closeted skeletons. Orwell makes a cameo appearance.
In other words: Best dream ever.
The dream was made that much better by the fact that, on my first night away from home, the night when I ran into the little vagabond clan, I had to decide whether or not I was a vegetarian. I was ordering from an overpriced menu, trying to find something cheap but filling to sustain me as I started my long journey. There were promising meat dishes, spawning an inner debate between "but I'm a vegetarian!" and "but it's just a dream!"
Dreams where I know they're such please me. I've always taken issue with dreams because I dislike the loss of control—the idea that my brain takes strange, random, often violent and upsetting journeys on a nightly basis without so much as a by-your-leave makes me feel powerless. Over the years, I've gained some tolerance for the loss of control—and, even better, I've gained some ability to lucid dream. I rarely have all-out lucid dreams where I'm entirely in control, but I'm often aware of the fact that I'm dreaming and, whether or not that allows me to make decisions within the dream, the knowledge that it's just a dream gives me a bit of distance and safety, even as the dream occurs.
With few exceptions, this wasn't one of my frightening, awful dreams—in fact the premise was wonderful, to a person of my particular tastes. Knowing that it was a dream ironically gave me more freedom to let go and just enjoy it. My dreams are often crazy-weird but they're rarely crazy-awesome. This one made me want to keep on sleeping. Perhaps the lesson here is: more skinny gay boys directly before bed.
