tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18829500.post113232060927122763..comments2023-10-11T10:40:48.712-04:00Comments on The Miserable Annals of the Earth: Sweet dreams are made of thisDoc Nebulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13052810933464744998noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18829500.post-1132502274167584712005-11-20T10:57:00.000-05:002005-11-20T10:57:00.000-05:00Tony,Thanks.Nate,You're makin it up as you go alon...Tony,<BR/><BR/>Thanks.<BR/><BR/>Nate,<BR/><BR/>You're makin it up as you go along.<BR/><BR/>Tammy,<BR/><BR/>I would say your dream betrays your fierce, even fanatical, protectiveness as a mom. The assailant was the evil of the world, and you can't shoot the evil of the world, it doesn't do any good. All you can do is try to keep it away from your kids as long as you can. Once it's broken into your house and is carrying them off, all you can do to protect your kids from it is kill them quickly. I would say your dream may say something about your essential cynicism (which I largely share) but also speaks volumes about why you are and will remain on my Supermom list.<BR/><BR/>Mike,<BR/><BR/>Oddly, I was just dreaming the other day that I was beating the living crap out of Warren Ellis. He was hanging by his handcuffed wrists from the basketball hoop at the corner playground and I had a rusted metal jack handle and was just going nuts on his wanker ass. "Hey, Pinata Boy!" I was puffing as I thwacked him mightily, determined to see if he was indeed full of candy and small party favors, "your character names sound like you programmed your word processor to spit out randomly alloyed proper nouns! Your best dialogue reads like you were trying to transcribe WATCHMEN from an audiotape narrated by an inebriated Burgess Meredith! And you're not fooling anyone wearing that authentic Winston Churchill beer mug as a codpiece, either! CHRIST! CHRIST! CHRIST!"<BR/><BR/>He didn't show me his diddly-bob, though, which was wise of him, as I was already flailing around madly with a heavy chunk o' semi-oxidized iron (I could feel the little flakes of rust gritting and sifting under my sweaty palms every time I tightened my grip again for a swing)and it wouldn't have been safe for Little Prince Charlie to come out. <BR/><BR/>Ah, those are the dreams you hate to wake up from...Doc Nebulahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13052810933464744998noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18829500.post-1132456342222042412005-11-19T22:12:00.000-05:002005-11-19T22:12:00.000-05:00Coincidentally, this appeared in my email today fr...Coincidentally, this appeared in my email today from Warren Ellis:<BR/><BR/> "So I had this dream last night and it's stuck with me all day. So much so that I'm now writing it down to try and exorcise it.<BR/> <BR/>So in this dream I'm taking the piss horribly out of David Mamet. I'm not sure why, except possibly he's drinking Budweiser and refusing whisky. And I'm taking the piss<BR/>out of him, his Hemingway complex, his religious bullshit,his cheerful keyboard-wankery and his reduction of everything to basically chopping fucking wood.<BR/> <BR/>And for no good reason I can see, he shows me his penis. And it's square. Well, it's rectangular, I guess. But you know what I mean. It has corners. And an oaky grain to it. And he tells me that he has to take a tomahawk and hack a fresh notch in Rebecca Pidgeon before he fucks her each month. Because more than once a month, he says, and a man can get to kind of like it, and it's one<BR/>short step from there to wearing a dress."Mike Nortonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13025995292338904959noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18829500.post-1132407387410480572005-11-19T08:36:00.000-05:002005-11-19T08:36:00.000-05:00Never had dreams about teeth...that I can remember...Never had dreams about teeth...that I can remember. Went through a spell where I had two different dreams about razor blades. Both pretty unpleasant. And I would have them successively for a week or so, before they would stop. Haven't had any of those in maybe 15-20 years, but they really made an impression. No dreams of flying in years either, but boy did I ever soar. If you can analyze, there's one I've always found pretty strange. Though you may take me off of the SuperMom chart when you do. I once dreamed, when my oldest two kids were like 4 and 5, that someone broke into their room and I heard a noise, came to investigate, and saw them as the kidnapper was taking them out through the window. I begged him to stop. When he wouldn't, I found I had a pistol and as he ran across the yard with them, I shot each of my children. I remember feeling it was the only way I could save them from the inevitable horror that belied them. I felt peaceful in the dream. But when I awoke, I was overcome with guilt and disgust. Wondering why, if I had a gun and was shooting, I hadn't tried to shoot the assailant. Wondering why I would shoot my own children. Weird, weird dream. <BR/><BR/>Never been able to "shape" a dream, though...other than, on occasion, to start one on a path as I fell asleep. Once I'm there, though, I'm in all the way.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18829500.post-1132393105951651842005-11-19T04:38:00.000-05:002005-11-19T04:38:00.000-05:00Wierdest dream I ever had was one where telepathic...Wierdest dream I ever had was one where telepathic french fries in spaceships shaped like McDonalds fry containers chose me for their first contact with human civilization, and I triggered an interstellar war by eating their delegates.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18829500.post-1132336690013731812005-11-18T12:58:00.000-05:002005-11-18T12:58:00.000-05:00Okay, I can finally pull up your blog and can post...Okay, I can finally pull up your blog and can post a comment. I had problems pulling up the other blog, so hopefully this'll do it.Tony Colletthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00681683720184752588noreply@blogger.com