I had a dream last week that I really should have written down. Now the regrets have started floating in.

As is true with all dreams that have been left out for too long, it's started to evaporate from my mind in the warm summer air.

I was myself, lying awake in my room late at night. The computer screen was on and was filling up with IM message windows, each one heralded with a tiny electronic ping as they beat out a steady rythm over the sound of the tv. The evening news was on, telling of all the wars and mindless deaths, spewing governmental lies clouded over with meaningless hollywood jargon.

I felt sick. I could feel the world decaying around me and I was fading along with it. I had to escape.

I began to pull boxes from my closet, stuffing each one in turn and piling them on my bed until the precarious mound towered overhead (a strange feat seeing as how I have an 8' ceiling).

Then I began to eat.

I picked up a box in each hand and began to consume them one by one. Size and shape didn't seem to matter, I swallowed them all whole. I could taste the contents of each box as I did so. I savored the rich memories and emotions as they all came back to me and with each one I felt more vibrant, more alive. And with each box, I grew. Slowly my head cleared the roof of the house and then the treeline. I kept eating. The world was taking shape before me. I could see the colors again; the life inherent in everything around me. I was looking at the same neighborhood, city, valley and state that I saw everyday but this time, I could feel that sense of awe and wonder returning. I just had to take it all in. I was seeing everything again like it was for the first time. The way the leaves fell from the trees, their reds and browns swirling together in deeps drifts of color. I could see water trickling down from the mountaintops, collecting in pools and streams to feed life into the world below. And most of all, I saw the people; each of them living their seperate lives and yet still connected, affecting one another and the world around them. I could see all of the evils of the newscasts, the carjackings, rapes and murders, but there was good there as well. Every time the dust settled, there were good people there to help pick them up and put them back on their feet. It was then that began to feel hope again.

I'd grown quite large at that point; airplanes were buzzing like gnats in my ears. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of light and I turned. I saw it then, just waiting patiently out there, the rest of the world calling seductively to me. I gently picked up the last of the boxes, now no more than a tiny speck of sand pinched between my fingers. I toss it into the air and catch it like a snowflake on the tip of my tongue. Then, with a sigh and a last glance back at all the places I knew, I turn and wade into the gently rolling waves of the Pacific Ocean and beyond, the lights of distant cities are glimmering like stars on the horizon.

Damn, I’ve got goblins again.

Those filthy little buggers, living all nice and cozy in my walls. Even now I can hear them scurrying around, their tiny feet scratching and scuffing at the drywall. They've gone and scared my cat. I can just see his tail now, peeking out from over the top of my bookshelf. It's not his fault. After all, nobody likes having goblins. They're like tiny little in-laws. They show up without warning and won't leave till they're good and ready. Nobody at all knows why they do it.

There, I heard it again. I think there's one in my closet right now. Again a thump! That was the box of books shifting... And there! That was definitely a coat hanger clattering to the ground.

What are they up to? I know they're just biding their time, watching me from every nook and cranny they've gotten their ratty little claws into. It's what goblins do right? Wait, what do goblins do? Are they the reason my things have gone missing? First the tape recorder and my screwdriver set yesterday, then my blender and a package of twinkies this morning. Then they finished the milk and left the carton in the fridge. Who knows what else I haven't noticed yet.

What are they going to do with all of that anyway? What good is a tape recorder to a goblin? Are they going to set around in their little goblin cave, recording goblin curses in their skittering goblin tongue only to play them back again at double speed so that they sound like a bunch of chipmunks? Oh yeah, I bet they're getting a real good laugh out of it right now. Those bastards. And I was saving those twinkies too.

Or maybe they're building something. Yeah, I can imagine that. It would certainly explain the lab coat and goggles I thought I saw on that one hiding out in my garden shed. That makes sense. After all, I didn't really think that goblins cared all that much about making fashion statements.
I can just see the shed out of my bedroom window now, in fact, if I just lean over like so and... wait... now there are sparks coming out of the door? All blue and flashy and whatnot. What the heck are they... are they welding something? Bloody hell, and I thought termites were bad. Now look, I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse me but I'm going to have to go and put a stop to this. Really, I think that this has gone on farrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr nowstopthatlijne; letgoofmeyoulittlena;ldf ohdamndamndamnljafla nodontnononobitingnoOHBUGGERlkja;l

The little bastard just bit me! I can't believe it. One of those little bootscrapers just tried to make off with my keyboard and, oh god, I'm bleeding. I'm bleeding from my friggin' hand. What if I come down with something now? Oh, for crying out loud, I could have rabies! And how am I going to explain that to my family, huh? "Oh yeah, I was just writing out an e-mail, minding my own business when a goblin, yes, a goblin. You know, small, green, big ears... Well yes, he may have only been small but, wait, are you laughing at me? But he had teeth! Teeth!"

Yeah, that'll go over really well and, do goblins even have rabies? Cause I know a guy who just last year... no, wait, you're right, not the point.

It just makes me so mad though. They think they can get the best of me? They think they can just come into a fellow's house and make off with some of his best swag? Haha, I don't think so.

I've got a flyswatter here and there's a can of Raid under the counter. As soon as I can find my bathrobe I'm going out there to the shed to give them a little piece of my mind.

Yep, as soon as I'm decent, ohhhhh, those bastards are gonna get it. I'll get them so good they'll wish they were never-


...wait...


where's my robe?

It was a little like The Shining but taking place in a high-rise apartment building. The entire dream took place over a single night. The haunting centered around an old book that someone had purchased at an antique sale. I didn't get a good look at it but I think it was someone's personal journal from around the turn of the century. In this dream I was just an average Joe living in a rather plain 3rd floor apartment. One of the other tenants on our floor, a girl, comes to my door because she was just coming home when she heard a large crashing sound coming from the place across the hall. It's owned by a family of four that I'd seen a time or two in the past but wasn't really familiar with. Their door is unlocked and swings open at the touch and for just a second I can hear a faint whispering voice calling out. We find the father first, resting in a leather reading chair in the living room. Books from the now empty shelves are littering the floor and are piled around the base of his chair. His face is frozen in a look of shocked surprise and one hand is hanging limply over the arm of the chair, the blood from his slit throat running down it and onto the carpet. The mother and daughter are in the children's bedroom. The girl is lying facedown under a heavy bookcase that's toppled over, the thick shag carpeting and the side of the bed is stained a dark red from the spray of the blood. The mother is on her knees, slumped over in front of the girl and still clutching her hand, a large butcher's knife protruding from her back. We search the apartment, looking for the boy but he's apparently gone (as is the book we'd later learn). I take the girl, who appears to be in shock, back to my apartment while I call the police.

I remember that the police do arrive much later but by then the power has been flickering off and on. The building's super, unaware of what's going on, has gone down to the basement to check on the circuit breakers. He finds a child's blanket and the book tucked away into a corner. Thinking that some of the building's kids have been playing down here again, he takes them with him when he leaves with the intent of finding out who it belongs to.

[Everything else after this point is just a blur.]

This was another strange one (I know, when aren't they?).

First of all, I wasn't myself. I was a young boy, living with my father(?) in a large skyscraper/mall complex that he controlled. My mother had disappeared under mysterious circumstances years before and I was left with only vague memories of this kind, golden haired woman and a sense of loss. The father figure in the dream was rather akin to a cold, harsh accountant type, who dressed meticulously and had no more regard for me than he's have for any other possession. I was, however, offered a sort of protection because he saw me both as an heir and as his property. Somehow I become convinced that my mother has left some sort of important message for me and so I set off on a journey through the complex to find it. I meet several people throughout the building (one of my father's assistants, several shopkeepers, tenants) who all remember my mother but keep repeating the same details to me over and over again. Finally I find myself in a tiny, cramped curio shop owned by a very small asian woman who I find resting on a small pile of red silk cushions and smoking a cigarette in a long holder (like something out of the 1920's) spouting a series of Chinese proverbs (This entire scene reminds me of Carroll's caterpillar). She tells me in a very roundabout way that the truth I sought was only an illusion and leaving me with a rather obscure riddle (I wish I could remember this, it seemed quite elaborate). Confused and dejected, I make my way back towards my room at the top of one of the towers. I'm riding in the elevator, a pinging sound marking off each of the floors, I find that my attention is for some reason drawn to the button panel. As I watch, there is a slight hesitation before the light jumps from number 10 to number 11 and the elevator seems to ping twice. I begin punching the buttons on the control panel hoping for another anomaly, and upon striking the 10 and the 6 simultaneously, the elevator grinds to a halt and the doors open. Revealed beyond is a strange sort of half-floor (think Being John Malkovich here, only not quite that ridiculous. The ceiling is perhaps about 5.5') that's bathed in a sort of dim, antique style, yellow lighting. The last thing I remember is stepping off into a long corridor and hearing the elevator doors slide closed behind me.

Then I woke up.

I can barely remember the dream from last night; just fragments really. I was in a densely wooded area being hunted by something large and reptilian (a dragon of some sort?). There was a cabin, there in the center of a dense grove, and I took refuge inside. The cabin was dilapidated, appearing to have been abandoned long ago, but for some reason the creature was unable to enter. I also had the feeling that I had to get somewhere, to tell someone something important. (A warning?).

(I wish I could remember more of this one. I think it was still in the early 90’s when I went to bed last night. I was tossing and turning all night and waking up every hour or so. I swear, if this keeps up for much longer I’m moving to Antarctica.)

I was in a relationship with this amazing, caring woman and we were living with roommates in a modest house. She and I were sharing a room. We were even talking about getting married, the only problem being, there’s someone else. She still has a boyfriend in the military stationed overseas that she’s still in love with as well. She feels torn and doesn’t want to hurt him, no, more than that she doesn’t want to let go. I know about him and the feelings that she still has for him and I worry about what’s coming but she’s just so affectionate, caring, intelligent, with a great sense of humor and we’re so completely comfortable around each other and… I love her to the point that I’d be willing to sacrifice anything for her, even though the situation is hurting me I’m willing to let her play it out so that she can resolve it in a way that she’s comfortable with. Only, she doesn’t know what she wants and the other guy, well, he doesn’t have a fucking clue. As far as he knows I’m just another roommate and he thinks their relationship is going along smoothly.

So in the dream he comes back on leave and comes to the house. She and I are both in the living room with one of our other roommates when the doorbell rings. He enters and sweeps her off her feet, casting aside his bags to take her in his arms and kisses her long and passionately. It feels like my fucking heart has just been ripped from my chest and pissed on. When he finally lets her go she looks flustered and confused, then seems to remember me and gives me a pleading, apologetic look as he whispers in her ear and starts to drag her away towards our bedroom.

I start to get up and the roomate puts a hand on my arm, giving me a rather complacent look, and saying "what man, are you unpatriotic or something? It's all good man..."

(The moments when we’re together leave me with an overwhelming sense of love and security and when seeing them together it feels like my heart is physically being removed from my chest with a dull spoon. All in all, a very powerful dream whose importance lies primarily in the terrifyingly real feelings that it induced. I woke from this feeling a profound sense of loss and loneliness that I can still feel now, a good 10 hours later. Some really fucked up shit.)

I’d gone on vacation to some remote lake. I was with friends (who exactly, I don’t know) and we’d rented small powerboats to go fishing. For some reason some old guy went out with us to act as a tour guide of sorts. Apparently he was a local who knew some of the town’s folklore. Anyhow, we’re out there for the better part of an afternoon and this old fellow begins to tell us a bit about the town and some of the recent news to pass the time. Turns out a few of the people living along the lake have been reporting their pets going missing and he proceeds to tell us a few of his theories on the matter, mostly by indentifying a small research lab in the area as belonging to the government and hinting at their involvement. In an act of fortuitous timing, my line hooks on something that pulls violently at the line, causing our small boat to toss precariously. I’m pulled over the side but I manage to somehow hold on to both my rod and the edge of the boat. My friends are grabbing at me, trying to hold on and my arms feel like they are being pulled out of their sockets. Through the green tinged water I can just make out a massive shape thrashing about beneath the surface. It appears to be some sort of large catfish, at least 6 feet long with writhing tentacle-like whiskers. Its eyes are set farther forward than would likely be normal for it’s species and, just for a second, they lock on to mine. It stops it’s thrashing and we just stare at each other, transfixed. Its eyes are human. Suddenly it shoots forward in the water directly towards me. Startled I drop the pole and at the last second it veers sharply aside, brushing me as it rushes past. My free hand drags along its cold, mucous covered hide and it’s like I’ve been struck by lightning. For just a moment I’m lost in time as a series of short images flitter through my mind. There’s a man, wearing only a pair of white drawstring pants, being dragged forward between two large men in featureless black jumpsuits through a thick set of airlock doors into what appears to be a lab. Off in the distance several men in lab coats can be seen arguing around a cluttered whiteboard set in the wall. In the center of the room there is a steel examination table with thick leather restraints and is surrounded by a cluster of medical monitoring devices. Several other visions of the man in white follow; lying on a cot in a cell, in the cockpit of a jet as it’s spiraling out of control with smoke billowing out of the console, a rather pretty woman smiling at him and caressing his face as they lie side by side in bed. I come back the present in a daze, floating limply as my friends in the boat reach for me, trying to drag me from the water.

(There’s a gap here where my memory of the dream jumps)

Then I’m in the back of a yellow schoolbus that’s crashed into the sidewall of a long, underground tunnel (sort of like the type you’d see on a remote mountain road). The schoolbus is mainly intact but I can see through the shattered remains of the front window that several other cars have wrecked in front of us in the tunnel. As I watch, fires spring up out of the wreckage and seconds later one of the cars explodes violently. The shockwave throws me backwards down the aisle of the schoolbus and shards of the windshield bit deeply into my arms and across my cheek as I try to shield myself. Dazed once again with my face pressed against the grooved black rubber flooring, I look up and notice for the first time that the emergency door in the rear is hanging open. Through it I can see a black mercedes with tinted windows speeding towards the bus. With a squeal of protest it brakes hard at the last moment, pivoting slightly as it comes to rest less than thirty feet from the rear door. The passenger door opens and a girl steps out (long black straight hair, late twenties, slender). She steps out towards the center of the tunnel, her head moving as she scans the wreckage. Something towards the rear of the bus seems to catch her eye and she starts to move towards it. A man suddenly bursts into my view looking terrified and running full tilt around the rear of the bus likes he’s making a break for cover. The girl fixes her gaze at him and the air seems to ripple as a shockwave tears down the tunnel, seemingly emanating from her. The man is thrown forcibly sideways, slamming into the rear window of the bus with a sickening crunch and leaving a splattering of blood and gore streaking down the scuffed plexiglass. The wave passes over me as well, and it feels like I’ve just taken a solid blow from a prizefighter. Even more disturbingly, my mind is assaulted with a series of violent and dark images. For just a moment I’m a young girl of 8 or 9 being woken in the middle of the night by her mother’s boyfriend slipping into her bed. Then as a teenager lying bloody and broken in an alley staring into the lifeless eyes of my female lover as a group of teenage boys take turns beating my limp form, all the while screaming out our crimes against god and nature. In the last scene she’s curled up naked in a bathtub, sobbing uncontrollably and apologizing over and over again incomprehensibly as she uses a box knife to gouge at her wrists (she is apparently some sort of telepath, using focused negative emotions to manifest a physical attack, her victims experience the memories in addition to feeling the direct effects of her blows. Definitely the most disturbing thing I think I’ve ever dreamt. In the dream it was like I was seeing them all from her point of view with all of the awareness and pain that went with the experiences)