Dream: The Horror Movie Set House
Dream 20020802, 3:30 AM:
The Horror Movie Set House
I’m at a studio where they are filming a talk show. I know that I’m supposed to be a guest, but for some reason I miss getting to the set on time; I am stuck across the room, and I can see them filming on the monitor. There are two or three people in chairs, and a lot of people gathered around them on the floor. The chairs are upholstered all over, and are bright yellow. I decide that I’m going to have to do my segment from a counter by where I’m standing; it’s a makeup counter, and I have to do something with makeovers. I get behind the counter, and then there are two or three girls who are here to help me. We start looking at the supplies we’ve got, and I realize that all the bottles of makeup are opaque, and the labels don’t have any real indication of what color they are, just names that sound more like marketing labels than descriptive labels. I don’t know how we’re supposed to tell which bottle to use for which person. The bottles are squat and round, and seem larger than what makeup ought to come in. I pick up one container that holds something like blush or shadow – it is in a cake, and the lid is transparent. The cake of stuff is a soft rosy pink, but there are shreds of it that look like they’ve been scraped up with a spoon, and those are a medium blue. I think that it changes color during application somehow.
Then, I’m behind the same counter, but there is another man here. We’re both in swimsuits, and doing demos of some sort of sunless tanning cream. We are both very pale. I duck down behind the counter, and smear some of the stuff on my skin, and then stand back up; it looks streaky and weird, and I feel ridiculous being here. The other guy is doing the same thing. I don’t know how we got stuck with this job.
A man comes up, and starts teaching me how to get along with the automated people. He reminds me of Luke H., but has on a long brown coat and a gray-brown fedora hat. We are standing outside the counter now, and I’m dressed like a regular person. He points out that a lot of the people here are automated; they move on little metal tracks in the floor. The tracks are in various curved patterns, without any sense of organization, but they go to every place in the room. I think I just hadn’t noticed this before. He walks with a funny, shuffling gait, sticking his arms out straight from the shoulder and letting them hang from the elbows, sort of like a scarecrow; he says this is the best way to walk around the automated people, because they won’t realize you’re not one of them, and you’ll be able to escape detection. He demonstrates this with one of the automated people, bumping into him and walking around him, showing me that he doesn’t get in trouble. I want to get back behind the counter, and I have to duck very low to get under a buzzing yellow wire that I know is charged – I get the impression that the automated people don’t want me to be able to get in and out.
Then, the dream shifts, and I am in a huge rambling Victorian house that was the set for a famous horror movie. It is decorated richly, but also has a lot of macabre weird stuff. I don’t feel scared at all – I have a definite clear sense of it only being a set, and I’m kind of fascinated by how it all works. There is a statue of some sort of clown in the kitchen/bar area, and a big hole behind him that goes into the garage; I think it was used for some special effects. I am here with some actress who was in the movie, and we are walking through the house. They are doing some sort of reunion of everyone who was in the movie. I think it’s cool to hang out with them. I don’t know exactly why I’m here, but I just sort of hang out and enjoy the company. One woman takes something and sneaks it out; she hugs it to her side so that I can’t see what it is that she’s got. She’s tall and thin, and looks shifty or mean.
Then, I am outside. Dad is here, he is running a camera, like a newsman, and filming coverage of George Bush. Bush is standing talking to reporters. Bush sees Dad, and points him out, then points to Richard, who is also here, and then to me. He says something about, “Michael, the gifted creative one.” There is almost a sarcastic tone to his voice. I wish I weren’t being filmed; I’m not dressed or ready for it. I see the film in my head, and I think I look out of place. Everyone is dressed up, or dressed warmly – they seem formal in coats and jackets, and I am in shorts. I see Mom in her long black wool coat.
I go back to the movie set house. The rest of the reunion guests are arriving; there are a LOT of people here. I think it is everyone that had anything to do with the movie. The actress that I’m hanging out with visits with a couple of young girls who seem totally in awe of the whole thing; they have on white name badges, but I don’t remember their names. I think they were playing with the orchestra for the movie score. I get invited to stay for the party; I am excited. I hadn’t been planning on staying for the party, but was kind of hoping they’d ask me. I try to call Chris on the house’s phone – it has 2 line buttons, but when I push a line, somebody is on each of them. I hear talking, but don’t recognize who it is. I call Mom on my cell phone, and I’m going to call Chris as well.
I’m walking through the upstairs – the house is huge (it seems like it’s gotten larger through the course of the dream) and has several large separate wings. Someone is giving a tour, and I overhear them saying that the house is fifty thousand square feet. I see huge cases full of artwork and decorative items stretching off in a long row, and tables with displays of beautiful things. Someone is talking about how the woman stole something worth ten thousand dollars; they don’t know what it was, but they are making guesses. Somebody picks up a piece of stuff, looks like clothing, from one of the tables, and says, “Maybe it was a bob.” The piece she’s holding has big balls of decorative gold work, and I think that’s what they’re calling bobs. There is a big snake sculpture here, and it is holding a huge crystal sphere. It looks like the snake’s tongue is sticking down into the sphere, but I recognize that it’s actually the snake’s lower jaw that I’m seeing through the sphere, and it appears to be moving back and forth like it’s vibrating. It seems blurry in my vision, and reminds me of the way that TV shows blur out faces with the little squares.
In another room, looks like it’s some sort of utility room or kitchen. There’s a white bird that scoots quickly across the floor board. I think at first it is a rat, then I think it looks like a white pigeon. I don’t get a good look at it at first. Then, I walk around the end of the counter I’m standing at, and I can see that it’s a white chicken with a funny-looking tiny bald head.
I still think
you could make a fortune if you could figure out a way to charge people to be in your head. Kind of like that movie “Being John Malkovich”. Did you ever see that?
How has all this lucid dreaming affected your sleep? Do you wake up rested or are you tried from all the stuff you do while asleep?
Re: I still think
Actually, most of this dreaming is non-lucid… I have had several lucid dreams, but not that many. Ironically, I find that a night when I wake up twice or more, often staying awake half an hour or more writing out the dream, getting a drink, etc., I feel *more* rested than if I sleep straight through. It seems that many of the nights when I sleep straight through (often represented by gaps in the dream log record, because I don’t remember any dreams on waking) are nights when I was too tired to start with – staying up late working on a project, or just having too much to do during the day and wiping my energy out. Also, I usually drink juice when I get up at three or four, and I think this helps me have more energy for the remainder of the night – and I take B-complex and C vitamins before I go to bed, and 2mg. of melatonin to help deepen my sleep cycle. I feel like a dream athlete.
I haven’t seen “Being John Malkovich”. I’ve certainly got an active imagination, though… it makes me wonder if EVERYBODY has dreams this intense and weird, but simply blanks them out, or if I have an unusually intense dream life. I know that everybody, even me, has more dreams than they remember – I usually catch 1 – 3 each night, but we usually have about 5 or 6.
I feel like sometimes I’m getting too much input from them – I try to figure out some of the symbolic meaning, apply it to my daily life… but it takes me about an hour a day of dream-writing, and then on top of that, I sometimes feel like I have 3 or 4 important messages to deal with… it can be kind of intense! I try to focus on the biggest issues, and just think a little about the rest.