15 December 2005

8th Floor. Curb. Lights. Camping.

I lived on the 8th floor of what looked like an upscale skyscraper. I had two roommates, neither of whom I've ever seen in real life. At first, the male roommate kept going into the wrong apartment on the wrong floor (he acted like a junkie). One of my roommates, a girl with punkish-short hair, was talking about trying to find a boyfriend, so I suggested we get together. The three of us were important somehow - it was a future setting, and I think one of us was a cyborg. We investigated a murder that had recently happened in another apartment a few floors above us, and went to hang out with another cyborg (the murderer as it turned out) that took me around and explained things to me.

Later, we went out into the woods (my roommate and the cyborg murderer). We all turned into were-wolves and went running through the snow, hunting after something. My new girlfriend became afraid and stopped. I stopped to talk with her - the cyborg came back looking angry, so I left my girlfriend and continued the chase.

In another segment, I was driving with the manager of my first job and her sister. We were driving past two strip malls that faced each other, then a second pair where we worked. My manager crossed over into oncoming traffic at a poor time, and was forced to get into the parking lot by jumping the curve to avoid being hit.

In another segment, I was in my old house's livingroom. Single lightbulbs from the mini-strand of xmas lights I have now were glued to the long carpet, four or five altogether, spread randomly over the carpet. Static electricity made them glow. Maybe this was some sort of bleed-through from waking life into my dream.

In the last segment, I was the lead singer in a band at a concert. I had a voice identical to Kurt Cobain. Everybody came just for the cover, but I insisted on playing my four original songs.

In an earlier dream, I remember going on a trip with my uncle, a canyon, getting ready for the camping trip. It was summer.

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