killer in the kitchen

My mom was acting mean and crazy. She was calling me ugly and stressed out and laughing maniacally. She grabbed a large kitchen knife and said, "Guess what I'm gonna do!" and put it on my neck, pressed down hard, and ran it across. She wasn't pressing hard enough to cut, but it scared the hell out of me. "What are you doing mom?!" I screamed. She grabbed my shoulders and put me on the kitchen floor. "Guess what I'm gonna do?" She laughed in a sing-song voice. She raised the knife above her head with both hands and prepared to come down on me. I was terrorized, in disbelief that this was really my mom. I covered my chest and screamed, "Stop! What the fuck are you doing?!" Rodney stood in the doorway with a shocked look on his face, but did not intervene. I got up and pushed her. I felt the worst searing rage.

cruise ship captain

I was on a beach and I ran by someone's towel where they'd left their cooler and things and grabbed a bag of sandwiches. No one was around. I took it and ran to a jet ski, which I stole. I felt so thrilled and horrified of getting caught. I drove so fast. I drove to a harbor where a giant cruise ship was being boarded. I saw the captain of the ship riding his jet ski towards the ship. I thought he was going to suspect that I was a thief who was about to sneak on the cruise ship. He turned his head slowly and looked at me sternly. I smiled and waved. He turned his head back. I rode to a long space under the boat. It was like a carved out tunnel underneath the ship. I have no idea what purpose it served. Maybe to make the boat more aerodynamic. I parked the stolen jet ski in the tunnel and started to eat my stolen sandwiches. The ship captain drove into the other side of the tunnel, coming towards me slowly. When he got to me, he turned the engine off and sat there staring at me sternly. I stared back. It was a stare-down. I gave him the most stern, intense look I could. He returned the look. He said no words. Then I bent backwards and started limbo-ing under the tunnel ceiling. It was a challenge to him. He did the same. I clapped my hands and did some crazy movements with my arms. He did the same, a mirror image of me. I woke up.

Marilyn Manson helps destroy weak relationship

Marilyn Manson, Wtf? In my dream last night. Not the first time I've dreamt about him. Don't understand that. Don't ever think about the guy. The dream was this: I was back in my beloved flat in Oviedo, that perfect spot right behind the Gascona and around the corner from Foncalada, the fountain built by Romans in 11th century, tacky and out of place in the middle of the neighborhood, with the cement wall around it and cement stairs leading down into another concrete area surrounding it. It would be a sin to call it an eyesore..it's too great and too old to be torn down. Well maybe not great (kinda resembles a giant concrete doghouse), but outstanding for being one of the few public works-type architecture that survived from that time. Anyway, this is about the dream, not the fountain. Manson looked real scared and nervous, uncomfortably walking around Oviedo as if testing the ocean water after a long winter. I saw him and smiled sympathetically, having survived this city as a guiri (but never in make-up and clothes like that). I approached him and offered to help him out, show him around and even give him a place to crash. He eyed me warily and had the expression of someone who is very constipated and uncomfortable before breaking into a relieved smile. He realized I was a former fan and a sympathizer. I could tell him about the city, teach him some basic Spanish, and show him to the place where he was going to play his show. Later in the dream, Koki showed me pictures of Manson and I together, cuddling on my couch. He had hired a spy to take them. I didn't remember cuddling with Marilyn Manson, and Koki was using these photos as grounds to end our relationship. I was outraged and horrified and sad and pleaded with him and there were so many tears. Then I remembered that he had met up with and made out with his ex (oops) so I got angry and realized I was fighting the wrong battle.

eatin' people

A dream about cannibalism! With one of the most awesome nicest girls I've ever met, Alicia. She was the one organizing it all. She had this cabin in the woods and a group of people who claimed they ate people to end their suffering and to help limit the use of farming and fossil fuels. I was horrified when she brought me to the cabin but she said, "We're helping these people. We only kill those who are sick or in pain and who want us to kill them and take away their suffering." There was a large grill outside. They hacked people up with an axe outside on a wooden platform. I avoided eating anything and Alicia kept staring at me and starting little arguments with me. She tried to steal my purse at one point: "Is this made of leather?" she said, "We should grill it!" It was the only dream I can remember smelling something. It smelled like death...the way it smells when you walk past a crematory. Carmelized onions that have been cooking for hours and hours. Or bloody beef. Ugh, I don't want to eat meat anymore.

I know you're too narcissistic for that.

Smoking again. It seems to be a given with any dreams I ever have these days.

Then I was in a prison, interviewing two psychopaths. Then *expletive deleted* then I saw blood everywhere. And then three confused people--the inmates and myself. Ugh, the shame of even writing down that bit of the dream.

Then the piano, being played undoubtedly in real life by my brilliant roommate in her studio which is the room next to mine. In the dream I was in a junky little restaurant that looked like it was in southern Missouri. The piano player was in the next room and he was a black man who had the looks of a wise person. He smiled when I gushed compliments about his piano skills. Then I noticed all the framed photos on the walls around our table. In nearly every single one was somebody playing a trumpet. I asked the people I was with if they noticed a pattern or thought it was funny, so many pictures of trumpet players. I stood there confused and unable to move until the piano player stopped playing, came into the room, and slammed a trumpet case down onto the table. "Well I play the trumpet, bitches!" he exclaimed, and everyone laughed. "But you play the piano so well," I told him. "Fuck that piano," said he while he flapped his hand towards the direction of the piano room. "This is my real medicine." He picked it up and started blowing away, blaring some aggressive jazz melody that sounded like an angry bee.

Then the last part of the dream. I was on skype and still had Jorge in my list of contacts. I clicked on his picture and a video popped up. It was him hanging himself with the cord of a record player. I cried and screamed and tried to run to his apartment but the friends who were with me held me down and wouldn't let me go.