lady_kishiria: (dreams)
It was in England, in a lakeside village. It had some kind of ghost problem, so this bunch of teenage paranormal investigators (in the dream they reminded me of the Scooby-Doo gang, though no one said it in the dream) came to see what was going on.

There was Old (village name), which was flooded. All that was left was the cross from the steeple of the church. The gang went out to investigate, and the village god started appearing. He was a lake god, who was a bearded man in a heavy hooded robe, who would be seen standing in the shallows of the lake, looking but never saying anything.

When the gang rowed out in a boat to the cross, they discovered it wasn’t actually a cross. It was just a T-shape or cross shape of metal. It kept changing forms, starting as a cross of rebar, then a T of pipes, and finally an antenna with a smaller dish-shaped antenna on it.
They went back to the village, and one of the teens went running in order to get in touch with the ghosts. This was in the neighbourhood where I grew up.

I/he passed a pile of stuffed animals on the sidewalk that was connected to an earlier dream (?) where there had been an abused child. The teen thought the stuffed animals had been rained on, and would be moldy, so he didn’t take any. At the end he was running through a paneled hall, and came out to say that the ghosts wanted all the sports the local high school played incorporated into the school cheer, not just football. He was told that he’d been gone for six weeks. The lake god was looking at him.
lady_kishiria: (dreams)
I dreamt last night that I was working on Coronado again, only I was in the Army full time. I had been assigned to the awful old woman who was my boss at Montreal Trust in 1991-1992. Alfreda had made one adjustment to the future though; she was running a DOS machine with a dot matrix printer. The pool of paralegals outside her office contained the SFC from Bagram whose antics drove me to a suicide attempt (see the entries from December 2009).

It's hard to piece together what exactly was happening when. One of the Army sergeants I was working with in the dream had to do a conference call with her Basic Training company because she had missed part of Basic and if she didn't do it, her rank would be revoked. She was crying later because none of us came to her Basic graduation after she did the bit she was required to do. So I got to watch someone else's "sent back to high school" anxiety dream. I felt bad for not going to her Basic graduation.

The Navy were doing a lot of marching around in formation atop their ships. I kept having to dodge their formations as I was going to the office where I worked. I hate drill and ceremony and thought, this is in my future as the Army goes back to garrison life.

I also met briefly with T. Thorn Coyle on the way. She'd just done a workshop and I asked her about the coincidence of working for two bad female former bosses. I started talking about opening my own credit union (do not ask me where THAT came from). She said I should do it, and that this came from my grandmother, who was standing behind me.

I went to see the SFC, who made snarky comments about me being lazy. I told her Alfreda never told me anything she was doing. SFC said, "Oh, you've come to me for advice". She turned on Alfreda's ancient PC, and we also looked at the dot-matrix printout on her desk where we discussed everything on it.

There was a side dream about people who kept sending me questionable images from a science fiction manga they were reading, which ended with two men (not boys) kissing. I appreciated the gesture, but not at work.
lady_kishiria: (dreams)
I dreamt I was in an ultra-Orthodox synagogue. I was wearing Edwardian clothes, so I was within dress code. It was coming to the end of Shavuot, and there was a room sized box with one open side raised about ten feet over the congregation. The men were standing around, looking up into it. I was told that inside was the Sabbath Queen. I was at the back of the crowd and all I could see was the wall of the box to my left and two mannequins. The walls were lavender and the mannequins were female, with thick black hair and as far as I could tell flouncy Victorian clothes. I couldn't see the image of the Sabbath Queen though, and I was very upset by this.

I went up to the gallery above the synagogue floor and still couldn't see. However I ran into my old flame L, who was dressed like me in Edwardian clothes. She and I went to the basement where there was a kosher deli, now opening because Shavuot was over. I got a vegetarian sandwich. We got into the open back of a truck going back to her place, which was really far from any of the bus or subway lines and down a rural road. My intentions towards her were completely dishonourable, but once we got to her place, other people kept showing up.

Today in the waking world, the Sabbath Queen image stuck with me strongly all day and in my slow moments I was browsing Jewish web sites. There is a reconstructionist shul near me that looks like everything I ever wanted in a place of worship, but I'm pretty committed to being a polytheist at this point in my life.
lady_kishiria: (dreams)
I've been having weird-ass dreams these past two nights, probably because I'm sleeping in a really warm room away from home. Last night, I had this dream that had two intertwined storylines, but I'm not sure if they were the same one, or one with the memory of the other or what.

Storyline 1 was way cool. Aleister Crowley lived near me, in a grotto accessed by long twisty narrow tunnels that looked like a rabbit warren. Other people used the warren, but few went all the way down to where he lived. I did, and he wanted to initiate me into the fourth degree. The first three degrees were fairly easy initiations, but the fourth involved being ritually naked in front of the other members of the religious group, wrapped with narrow chains and a weighted amulet of sorts hanging from one's genitals. I know I didn't initially want to go through with this, but eventually decided I was being stupid and that I would.

Aboveground, a whole bunch of patriarchal Christian groups were having a convention. People who were previously sane were signing onto this lifestyle, dressing in "Little House on the Prairie" fashion, promising to have lots of kids and homeschool them all. My parents were approving of this, though not actually members. The convention had attendees selling clothes and crafts, many of which were pretty interesting, but which I resisted buying. I told my mom I was an atheist, even though I knew this wasn't exactly true seeing as I was going to let Aleister Crowley initiate me.
lady_kishiria: (dreams)
I dreamed there was an experimental rocket (I've been enjoying the SpaceX news) from NASA called the XM-1 or something like that. They needed an astronaut and were having a meeting at Los Alamitos. Since it was experimental, no one wanted to do it. I was sitting in the audience and I raised my hand, saying, "I volunteer." When they told me I was too old, I said that there weren't any other people stepping forward, and that all my life people have told me I was too short, too old, too young, too female, for anything I thought I could do. "I'd rather die at 50 in a rocket than at 100 in bed," I concluded.
lady_kishiria: (tattoo)
Very sad. I dreamt that Gato was shot as he was in the last episode of 0083, but instead of crashing the Neue Ziel, he somehow ended up out of it and in a pile of Zeon corpses. Federation soldiers found him and realized he was alive. One of them went to shoot him, to which Gato spat, "Go ahead. Send me to meet my God!" The soldier didn't shoot him and so he bled to death.

I tried (in the dream) to create an alternate reality in which Gato was treated, but I knew it couldn't be and I knew that would be even a more miserable ending.
lady_kishiria: (dreams)
I dreamt our company commander, whom I dislike and whom Ma'am dislikes more, decided to hold a PT test at 6 p.m. on a Saturday. I drove up early from San Diego, I remember that. I went to another gym on base and realized my destination was a mile away. It was dark, but since it was only a mile I ran alongside a darkened road with no reflective belt (gigantic no-no in the Army) to where I thought the correct gym was.

I had actually run to the PX. Someone showed me on a map that the correct gym was a mile away in another direction. I looked down and realized I was in my PJs (white t-shirt with red sleeves and red shorts) and not my PT uniform which I had been wearing when I was running. I decided to buy one, but all of them were too big. I decided I'd have to live with that and bought them.

The chaplain came in for a service and opened his Bible. I walked out saying I wasn't Christian.

I rejoined my unit for the PT test, and I was bitching about why the time was changed and who the hell does a PT test after dark in the winter? I didn't care who I was complaining to; other NCOs, officers, First Sergeants, etc.

There was something else about not being able to find a room in the billeting, but I don't recall what specifically.
lady_kishiria: (Horrors!)
In my dreams, I was back to fighting evil. I'm glad I'm so good at it, but it makes for a bad night's sleep.

I was in what looked like Kuwait. Everyone had moved into rows of brand new double-wide trailers. (Don't laugh, overseas we often live in them.) My squad? Coworkers? had moved into one and not gotten a bed for me. I started hunting through the buildings until I found that all there were left were the defective beds. I resigned myself to sleeping in one that was broken; it was better than the floor.

Then it turned out that we had a whole bunch of inexplicable orphans living with us, and they were getting sick. I discovered it was an evil witch poisoning them with a kind of snake venom. I changed realities and recruited Severus Snape to come back with me since a potions master was someone who'd have the skills to counter a poison our normal doctors could not. Snape put on the uniform of a British officer, but not being used to wearing any "muggle" clothes, much less a military uniform, he kept messing up. He was stopped as we walked across base because he'd forgotten to put pants on.

Nonetheless, the man knew his stuff. He found out very quickly what the venom was and concocted an antidote. The first orphan to have been poisoned had died, but he administered the antidote to the others. He also wasn't willing to give up hope on the dead child, because he'd only died a few minutes before and Snape thought he might be able to revive him.

At this point, the witch came out. She was a tall and attractive lady with long dark hair. I pulled out my mjollnir for courage and she smiled at it. "Yes, you have some of His blood in you," she told me.
lady_kishiria: (Virgin of Ocotlan)
...aussi disponible en espanol!

This is a biggie when it comes to dreams trying to tell you something.

I was in a huge house that I've been seeing a lot in my dreams lately. This time, my family owned it and we were going to visit my aunt in New Jersey. We were emptying out the basement of the family-owned house, and I and some of my cousins had become aware, years before, that the basement was haunted but we didn't know why or by whom.

As we emptied out the basement, it turned out that some of my aunts knew that the basement was haunted because they believed their kids, which my own parents hadn't. So we were all taking the contents out of the basement with a kind of grim anticipation since we knew this procedure would bring whatever was haunting out into the larger world.

At my aunt's house, I noticed that things were starting to be covered by a dusty black mold, and this was the taint of the evil. In a drawer I found a canvas, folded up, that when opened turned out to be a very large portrait of a great-great grandfather of mine who had been a powerful and evil wizard back in Mexico. He was dressed as a wealthy gentleman of the turn of the 19th/20th centuries and seated in his library. His curse was the reason for the taint, which started spreading rapidly.

So we started driving to my aunt's house in a van. As we traveled, the taint spread. Even newspaper articles brought up from the basement had this black mold on them and it made them tattered. The same with clothes, boxes, anything we had taken from the basement. The thing was, someone wanted the portrait, so we had to take it.

Eventually the bus broke down and I had to continue on on foot. I was trudging through a creekbed full of slushy snow (the wizard had made the weather bad) and I called upon Thor for strength and got through.

My destination turned out to be a big Anglican-style Gothic church. It was now all full of the dusty black mold. I started holding out my hands and calling on Jesus. One of my cousins came up behind me and asked me why, because I wasn't a Christian. "Because I know it works," I said. Whenever I called on Jesus, my hands lit up and a space became clean. I had cleaned the van, the family memorabilia and much of the church when a cousin said there were things back in the basement we'd left, but we had to get them. I said I couldn't let him go alone.

At one point there was a big religious statue, dressed in robes in Mexican style, in the basement. I held up a rodent skull and began to chant Hare Krishna. At this point in the real world, I started whimpering in my sleep, because I was shouting it through the clenched teeth of sleep paralysis. Steve woke me up slightly and then I went back into the dream.

The cathedral was now clean. I was sitting on the roof. Someone brought a statue of Santa Muerte to me, and her robes were now tattered black moldy lace. I said "Jesus" and her robes became white. She turned into Lafayette from "True Blood", said "Watch me flex!", and flexed her muscles happily. Then she turned into a fluffy white angel with a skull face and flew away.

I moved down to the choir loft. Some people brought me their Bibles and started asking me about God's involvement in this event. I told them, "Well, I'm an atheist, and the Hebrews were originally polytheists, let me show you in your Bible." Suddenly I realized that the Hasidic Jews celebrating down on the floor of the cathedral were dancing counter-clockwise. I ran downstairs and Steve woke me up as I was shouting, "Not widdershins! Not widdershins!" to them since I feared they were about to undo my and my cousins' hard work.
lady_kishiria: (Virgin of Ocotlan)
I had founded an order of lay sisters. (NB: "lay sisters" are those women you meet who you mistakenly call "nuns". A true nun, according to canon law, is cloistered.) We wore light brown habits and big veils of natural cotton. We arrived by boat to a church that backed up to the bay at Veracruz. The church had a red-tiled wall that looked like one from a Toronto subway station beneath the church and we moored our boats to it. The wall said "Hollywood" and I told the sisters that this was the generic name they gave to all such docks, and that when we founded our convent I'd have the name changed. I said we'd name our convent and the dock to the name of the church. I called up to someone and asked what the name of the church was. "Santo Sepulchurio," I was told. My nuns gave me a dirty look. "Hey, that's where we are, that's the name we're going to go with," I said.

I got out of the boat and up to the street. It was typically Mexican. The confessionals, though were outside the walls of the church. As I walked up, Garma Zabi (!) came out of the confessional and I knew he'd confessed the sins that were on my mind, so I went past and into the church. I knelt down and a man dressed as a mime (!) came in and sat down on a stool facing me. I was scared of this lunatic, but he proceeded to tell me that my doubts were all right. I wish I could consciously remember the rest, because I was comforted by his words.

Then I went downstairs. My convent was one hallway under the church with the hallway being open at one end over the bay. You could take a ladder to the level of the water and get into a boat that way. The sisters' rooms were on one side of the hallway. I was talking about the rigours of our lives and that during one spiritual retreat, sisters actually committed suicide. As I did, I heard the voice of my old Women in the Chrisitan Tradition prof talking about how I (as an historical figure) could be very cruel or very kind to my nuns as well as the soldiers around me. As if on cue, a group of soldiers in 19th century uniforms passed by, pushing one in a wheelchair, who I spoke to and advised.

I went upstairs to the legal library, very pleased because canon law is on Lexis/Nexis, which it is. It was full of messy stacks. Someone dropped a book and we had to leave before getting caught.

I went further upstairs to the church itself. A wounded soldier came to me to write a letter attesting to his injuries. I wrote it out and gave it to him saying, "Don't lose this, it's gold," which is something I say IRL about documents such as my DD214. He thanked me and left. It would be honoured because I specifically had signed it. No one argued with Madre.

Then people started filing in for Mass including my parents. I started feeling uncomfortable because I knew everyone was looking to me as a perfect example of Catholicism when in fact my nuns and I were nontheistic. I was thinking that as a nontheistic nun my responsibility was still to bring the Divine to people, and this might be the only way people might understand. Then I woke up.
lady_kishiria: (Christmas)
Last night was a whopper.

I dreamt I was back in Toronto, working as a temp in an open-ended job at Royal Bank. I was on the 30th floor. The job was in a dark call-centre environment but I don't remember if it was data entry or phone related. I got sick and went home on a Monday. Tuesday I was still sick, Wednesday not so much and Thursday I was just malingering because I hated the job. Steve said I needed to work and I told him, as he drove me down Broadview that I probably lost the job because of being home for three days. He dropped me off and I went up the elevator before realizing I was in the purple plaid pyjamas that I was in fact wearing as I slept. I called him to bring me some work clothes and went to the call centre.

The boss-man seemed benevolently disposed in a patronizing way. The workers were all getting ready for some kind of war re-enactment. They were putting on tin foil armour and metal plates and pots and pans, that sort of thing. Then we were released in an auditorium with seats and everything to fight another group. I was still in my PJs, with aluminum foil over them and a pot on my head. I think I got "killed" and after about half an hour we took a break.

I went back into the auditorium by myself since I was hoping the boss hadn't noticed I was in PJs. There was a large black man in much more serious armour in there. I "killed" him twice with my spear (I hadn't had a real weapon before) and complained that he wouldn't die, and I realized this was for real. I left and found myself in Kuwait. I wandered over to the PX complex and there was a Yule ritual going on. Someone cheerfully said they hadn't cast the circle yet, but the man leading the ritual said he was not a Wiccan so there wouldn't be any circle. We got in line and one by one passed beside something; might have been a fire but I don't know. It was something also covered in red velvet. We left the PX complex and were in Afghanistan. The man leading the ritual was our bus driver. As we drove, he said that Christmas was just the birthday of Sol Invictus. "Hail, Soly," he said and I woke up feeling like something had changed somehow, and I still have that feeling.
lady_kishiria: (Virgin of Ocotlan)
My subconscious is trying to tell me something but I don't know what.

Dreamt I was in the living room of the house I grew up in. Some people who I know now, but not well, who are heathens were coming over to celebrate a feast day. My dad showed up, and didn't go off into a rage, he sat down to see what was going on and even participated. I put my rugs from Afghanistan down on the table and before I could get any of my religious objects, they'd put down theirs. The devotional items in question were images of Thor. I was worried that my mom was going to show up as my dad was still interested. I went into my room (old bedroom in old house) to put the items I'd taken back onto an altar I'd built to "the goddesses". Most of the images were of the Virgin Mary and one was of Santa Muerte. I remembered I had an image of Kali (which I do in the waking world) and thought, "Oh, how could I have forgotten her?" I got it from my current waking-world living room and put it on the goddesses altar. Then I went back to the living room and we pulled runes. The only one I remember is Othala.

I've a feeling the meaning is obvious and I'm "too close" to see it. Mothers are definitely a theme, but I don't know in what capacity.
lady_kishiria: (Default)
I dreamed that I was told to report BACK to Bagram since the work had stepped up so much that they needed everyone back who'd worked my particular mission. I went back and found SFC N had been called out of retirement and TSGT H had been the one to call me at home to tell me to come back. I went back, a few of us went to a DFAC, and I started to have an "out of uniform in public" dream. I realized the only ACUs I had were the ones I was wearing, that I had no PT uniforms, and that I'd left the duffle of uniforms currently under my bed in the real world under my bed. Oh, and no one knew how long these orders were for so I couldn't just wing it with what I had.

I was allowed to go back and get the duffle. I flew into San Diego and Steve immediately started playing video games, talking on his bluetooth and someone from a legal temp agency who kept calling and asking for me. He told me I shouldn't use my civilian cell phone to call because it was too expensive, and I asked him to get my Afghan phone but he kept playing video games. I started having an anxiety attack. Since we were sitting on the bed in my dream and I woke up in the bed (obviously) I woke up wondering when I had to leave for Afghanistan and how to make sure I had everything I needed and how long I'd be there for since CPT S said "Oh, probably about six months" in the dream.

It took me about ten minutes of walking around making coffee in the real world until I finally became convinced that I did not have orders to send me back.

But I'll check AKO just in case.
lady_kishiria: (Default)
We had [profile] seki_raku over to watch "Star Trek" on BluRay. [profile] americanstd hadn't seen the movie yet and I'd only seen it as a Haji!bootleg. I made sugar cookies, but tweaked them with Splenda and nutmeg to make them diabetic-friendly and Danish-themed.

Watching the movie on BluRay was gorgeous. Still not "Star Trek", but a movie I wouldn't mind seeing a third time nonetheless. Seki's seen it a few times and observed various reactions to it from "fun but not Star Trek" to in tears of joy because it was.

I woke up with a migraine this morning. I'm hoping it wasn't red wine. I didn't have a lot last night, but red wine is for many people, like chocolate and aged cheese, a migraine trigger. Excedrin Migraine came to the rescue.

I'm also dreaming about returning to Bagram as the time gets closer. Last night I dreamt that the wrong bus took you to a college campus (!) and that the bus could fly over gorges. Once I got to my workplace my dream turned into an "out of uniform in public" dream because I took off my uniform top and it vanished so I had to walk around in my long-sleeved undershirt hoping I wouldn't get in trouble.
lady_kishiria: (Default)
Wow, two nights in a row. I must be settling in here!

Zombies! This was a fun dream though, not a scary one, because I was living in a zombie-infested city but Buffy was my friend. (No, I haven't been watching BtVS lately.) My family and I lived in a house with firearms stashed everywhere, in wall cabinets and under the floorboards since you couldn't go anywhere outside without one. My clearest memory of this dream was of a zombie coming at me, when I had a rifle in my hand. I shot it in the face and it looked puzzled, but then kept coming at me. I looked at the rifle and was confused because there wasn't a magazine, but then realized it was bolt-action. I pulled the bolt back, fired again, and the zombie went down. I was very proud of myself at that moment.
lady_kishiria: (Confused)
I can't remember the particulars, but never let Hunter S. Thompson work fast food. For one thing, he goes off on breaks, never comes back, and then YOU have to cover his shift.
lady_kishiria: (Default)
...and then they're Army tired.  I can't blame anyone but myself; I volunteered for this.  I was up at 4:30 a.m., got home at 7:30 p.m. and am doing it again tomorrow.  After this, shower, reading, and sleep.

Couple of Army related things of a personal nature.  I've decided to cut off all my hair before I deploy.  The reason is that I had a hard enough time keeping it clean when I was in Honduras--and in Honduras we had unlimited water.  Plus you have to be in full PTs to get up to take a piss in the middle of the night, and it's bad enough I have to put on socks and running shoes instead of putting on my sandals the way I did in Honduras.  Having to put my hair up properly to go to the latrine at 4 a.m. is not something I want to have to worry about.

I had an unsettling dream my last night in Colorado.  I dreamt I was about to leave on deployment and my family was in town to say goodbye.  It was my parents, [livejournal.com profile] americanstd  and [livejournal.com profile] electorprince .  I went upstairs to wash my hands or something, came downstairs, and saw Mei-Mei.  Even though she was Mei-Mei, she was a Siamese like Badira, just rounder and cuter.  I wailed out, "Don't die on me!", then turned to [livejournal.com profile] americanstd  and [livejournal.com profile] electorprince in turn and cried out the same thing, then the same with my parents.  One of my other long-lost cats, an orange shorthair named Beau was looking down from the landing at me.

I now need a shower and to get this headache under control.  See you later.

lady_kishiria: (Default)
Usually I remember the dream I had before I woke up, but last night I remember at least three. Actually, I don't recall the second dream, only that I had it.

In the first, I was back in Montreal, participating in some kind of strike although I wasn't in the union. I don't know why I volunteered to be on the picket line. It was night, winter, in a parking lot outside what looked like a Wal-Mart. They had bunks set up in CONEXES (like the cargo cubes they load onto the backs of trucks) so that the strikers could get rest. I was settling down on one of them, talking to a woman who'd organized the strike. I don't remember what the conversation was about, only that we were speaking French and I was translating for an American reporter. I had been reading a book in French before I went to bed, and I guess my language centers decided they wanted a workout. Yes, I do have a history of dreaming in French.

Next I had a dream about what looked like Maoist China--in the future! The Mao-style leader had three wives. One was very pampered and kind of a trophy wife, the second was the first lady type (I was in this role) and the third was a woman who'd been chosen as the breeder, who would produce all the children. The first wife was proud, beautiful and a little stupid. Needless to say, I was the brainy one. Wife 1 wanted to see what life was like outside the compound where we all lived. I thought it was a bad idea but knew she needed a companion so I said I'd go along. Wife 3 was scared and wanted to stay home and be pregnant, which was her job anyway.

Wife 1 and I got as far as the entrance to the "domed city". We rode up a long escalator, not unlike some of the ones in the really deep stations in Montreal. As in Montreal, there was a bank of several escalators and one was being serviced. We walked to a marble arch that was at least 100 feet tall, where there were men who looked unemployed and desperate lounging on the pavement. They saw us, recognized us, and started to get up. I grabbed the other wife's hand and we ran for the escalators with me nagging her all along as to how this had been a stupid idea.
lady_kishiria: (Default)
I dreamt that we lived in a larger apartment and [personal profile] patgund was visiting. Steve was in a mood, because he realized at the last minute he'd forgotten to type some pleadings. We received a big, generous package from someone I'd never met and only heard from once. I noticed that my left hand was aching and scratched at the palm just below and between my ring and middle fingers. My nail caught on something and I pulled, withdrawing a long, straight pin from my hand. I saw it had almost pierced through to the skin on the other side. I can still sort of feel it there.

The sun is out but clearly brain chemistry needs some adjusting today. I'm not a huge fan of chocolate, but I'll get some for the serotonin boost.

I'm stressed out about finding a job when school starts, about Steve finding a job, about a plan for employment which Steve favours and I do not (don't ask about it, I'll tell you if it comes up), Mei-Mei's health, and a number of other things. On top of that, our wardrobe collapsed and we needed to buy a new one. Furthermore, it's not a day off for me today either.
lady_kishiria: (rat)
I dreamt I was watching CNN. They were interviewing Dick Cheney, who was sitting in the door of a car or perhaps a helicopter; the camera was in very close so I couldn't tell. He was announcing that all deployments currently in Iraq were being extended by two months, to 17 months, with the exception of 2nd Cavalry. He was saying this in a dismissive, "no big deal" fashion, while picking at his teeth with a fingernail.

I was offended by his nonchalance and bothered by the question, "2nd Cav? Who are they and why isn't their tour being extended?"

(Yes, I went to Wikipedia and looked them up. They're based out of Ft. Lewis presently and went to Iraq this August.)

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