This is scene 2 of my afternoon nap dream for today. No Freudian analysis allowed (j/k, go right ahead and try).
Fernanda is hosting some sort of slutty service where she can engage in non-sexual activities with guys that pleases them. For example, kissing. Apparently I am ok with this in my dream (although I am most definitely opposed to it in real life).
One of her clients is talking to her while I am with her. He describes his wishes, but his descriptions include touching of the genitals, so he has crossed the line. I confront him very seriously and say (and I recall word for word), "that's not going to happen." The guy tells me I'm being "suicidal" because he could just beat me up since he's way taller and bigger than me. I maintain my position that he will not be doing said things to Fernanda, so we arrange a fight. I propose that teams should be allowed since he is way stronger than me, and many of my friends would be glad to help me defend my girlfriend. But he insists on a 1v1 duel, so we settle at that. We are to fight in a couple of hours.
So I take a break and walk away from the scene for a while. During this scene I am talking to my sister. She very nervously says that she has been "cheating on me." At this point, I realize there has been a confusion. My sister must be out of her mind or something. I am dating Fernanda, not my sister. Moreover, apparently the big guy was describing what he meant to do to my sister, not to Fernanda as I had believed in the previous paragraph. So when I finally meet this big guy for the fight, I try to explain to him that there has been a misunderstanding. He refuses to listen, assumes the fight has begun, and begins to "prepare" himself to attack me.
Here's why I put "prepare" in quotes: He strips naked, falls backwards onto the ground into a sitting position, rolls into the bushes, and starts breakdancing in the bushes, spinning around and shit. All of this is supposed to be a "windup" to his first kick. As if critiquing a movie for its flaws, I wonder to myself why one should not simply stay standing to deliver a kick, instead of falling onto the ground and performing elaborate dance moves before kicking.
Then instead of kicking me he sits crosslegged and waves his left hand in rapid circles, as if wafting a fume in chemistry class very rapidly. This generates tendrils of white smoke, and this trail takes the shape of a circle. I am reminded of glow sticks in raves. I wonder what he is doing now. Charging up?
He goes into the bushes again and finally emerges wearing a cylindrical, vertically elongated helmet. This helmet is made of transparent plastic, about 4 feet long and only slightly thicker than his head. His head rests in the approximate midpoint of the cylinder (apparently his neck is about 2 feet long). From a section of the cylinder, a small door swings outwards, exposing his face. The helmet is filled with hot sauce, jalapenos, and sour cream, to a level just below his chin. There is ice on the ground.
We see that the easy way to win this "fight" is to drown the man in his Mexican food in his own helmet. Thus, my generic friend (don't ask how he got in this scene) grabs some ice from the ground and starts to stuff it into the opening of this man's helmet. He stuffs and he stuffs and he stuffs, until the liquid food in the cylinder has completely submerged the man's head, and he is unable to breathe. At this point I realize that the man had not been planning on fighting at all. He had set things up so that we could kill him very easily. This is his suicide attempt, and we are helping him kill himself! I quickly dig my hands into the Mexican food and ice, removing it from the helmet via the opening. Finally the man is able to breathe again.
Realizing that this style of attempted "suicide" was rather peculiar, I remark to my generic friend that if we hadn't saved the man, he would not have died. He would have simply had to eat his way through a gallon of (and I recall word for word) "hot sauce, jalapenos, and sour cream."
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
The Ghostly Children of Prayer
I am sitting on the upper level of a double-decker train, headed home. As the train chugs along its tracks, there is no wind against my face, despite that the upper level is completely open and has no walls or ceiling. I am sitting with Fernanda and two nondescript girls. We must remain on this train to get home, or else we will forever be stuck in this strange dream world. Our fate rests in the functionality of this one-car train and its tracks being undamaged and clear of obstructions.
That is why I am greatly alarmed when off in the distance, a second train appears, headed towards us. I observe that there is only one set of tracks, so it is on the same track as our train. A head-on collision is imminent. The only way to survive this is by jumping off the train before the collision. I am hesitant to jump off the train, because it is my only hope for getting home. Just before the trains collide, I finally decide to jump off -- much too late.
Had the train been real, I would not have survived the impact (I had waited too long before deciding to jump). However, the train was but a hallucination. I run to catch up with our train again, jump up very high and land back in my original seat on the double-decker train, with Fernanda and the two other girls. I apologize to them and explain that I had suffered from a hallucination.
Over the course of the journey we encounter several close calls that are not hallucinations. Once, a truck was headed for us on the tracks but the driver kindly pushed it aside, off the tracks, allowing us to pass. Another time, there were cars and trucks parked across the train tracks, and we were just barely able to pass under them (they were very enormous cars and trucks, with big wheels and lots of space underneath). Multiple times, an obstruction that appeared unpassable was avoided by a fork in the railroad directing us in the other direction.
We finally reach our destination. This is not home, but simply a transfer station in which we have to wait for another train. The train station resembles one end of a ski lift, enclosed in a large stone building. All of a sudden the train has turned into a ski lift. Employees standing on the ground below us tell me to jump from the lift chair; it is the only way to exit the train. I jump on their command, falling 10 feet before hitting the ground. They help me to my feet and say "you now have all your possessions" (This is a standard protocol statement they are supposed to say when I have retrieved all my carry-on baggage. Since I didn't bring any carry-on baggage, I already had all of my possessions).
Everyone jumps from the ski lift in a similar manner and lands safely on the station. Then we all jump across a 10-foot long chasm, and slide down a couple of ramps before finally reaching the main hall of the station (a large empty hall made of stone). I am the last one to arrive at the main hall because I had to make sure Fernanda and the others could make the jump across the chasm (Fernanda did it in flip-flops but still bridged the gap because she is Fernanda).
On arriving at the main hall I discover that Fernanda and the two girls had either gone too far ahead of me or simply disappeared. Walking alone the stone hall are the Children of Prayer (about 50 of them), making eerie sounds together. It sounds like something played backwards. I remark to myself, "I've heard this somewhere before..." and realize that I once heard these ghostly voices while in a train, going through an empty tunnel.
I begin looking for Fernanda and the two girls, walking around and yelling, "Fernanda, Sarah, ___!" (I forget the third name) to no avail. I reach for my cellphone but discover that I have neither my cellphone nor my wallet; I only have my room keys. Had the employees stolen them, or did I simply forget to bring them? The Children of Prayer are completely devoid of emotion, indifferent to my situation. They continue to sing their eerie, ghostly sounds.
Among the Children of Prayer, I spot Valentina, Fernanda sister. She is about 12 years old (but not in real life). I ask her, "Do you know where your sister is?" Although she is an unemotional Child of Prayer, her eyes light up as she remembers, deep in her repressed memory, that she has a sister named Fernanda. Realizing that Fernanda is lost, she frantically runs up the stairs to look for her.
I too run up the stairs from the main hall (which is kind of like a basement), which lead to the outdoors. When I finally emerge in sunlight, I see the Children of Prayer playing in a large playground. One of the features of the playground is a large watchtower. I climb the watchtower and ask one of the boys if he's seen an older girl. He responds coldly, "I don't care." As he brushes my arm with his, I feel cold shivers. He asks for the name of the girl I'm looking for. I fear the boy's intentions so I give a fake name, "Vyys." I climb back down the watchtower.
The scary boy tosses me a basketball down from the tower. I catch the ball, dribble it, and try to shoot it in a nearby hoop (I miss). I throw the ball back up to him, and he catches it. The boy seems a lot nicer now than before, content with the mild entertainment of playing catch with basketball. We do this a couple more times. The end.
That is why I am greatly alarmed when off in the distance, a second train appears, headed towards us. I observe that there is only one set of tracks, so it is on the same track as our train. A head-on collision is imminent. The only way to survive this is by jumping off the train before the collision. I am hesitant to jump off the train, because it is my only hope for getting home. Just before the trains collide, I finally decide to jump off -- much too late.
Had the train been real, I would not have survived the impact (I had waited too long before deciding to jump). However, the train was but a hallucination. I run to catch up with our train again, jump up very high and land back in my original seat on the double-decker train, with Fernanda and the two other girls. I apologize to them and explain that I had suffered from a hallucination.
Over the course of the journey we encounter several close calls that are not hallucinations. Once, a truck was headed for us on the tracks but the driver kindly pushed it aside, off the tracks, allowing us to pass. Another time, there were cars and trucks parked across the train tracks, and we were just barely able to pass under them (they were very enormous cars and trucks, with big wheels and lots of space underneath). Multiple times, an obstruction that appeared unpassable was avoided by a fork in the railroad directing us in the other direction.
We finally reach our destination. This is not home, but simply a transfer station in which we have to wait for another train. The train station resembles one end of a ski lift, enclosed in a large stone building. All of a sudden the train has turned into a ski lift. Employees standing on the ground below us tell me to jump from the lift chair; it is the only way to exit the train. I jump on their command, falling 10 feet before hitting the ground. They help me to my feet and say "you now have all your possessions" (This is a standard protocol statement they are supposed to say when I have retrieved all my carry-on baggage. Since I didn't bring any carry-on baggage, I already had all of my possessions).
Everyone jumps from the ski lift in a similar manner and lands safely on the station. Then we all jump across a 10-foot long chasm, and slide down a couple of ramps before finally reaching the main hall of the station (a large empty hall made of stone). I am the last one to arrive at the main hall because I had to make sure Fernanda and the others could make the jump across the chasm (Fernanda did it in flip-flops but still bridged the gap because she is Fernanda).
On arriving at the main hall I discover that Fernanda and the two girls had either gone too far ahead of me or simply disappeared. Walking alone the stone hall are the Children of Prayer (about 50 of them), making eerie sounds together. It sounds like something played backwards. I remark to myself, "I've heard this somewhere before..." and realize that I once heard these ghostly voices while in a train, going through an empty tunnel.
I begin looking for Fernanda and the two girls, walking around and yelling, "Fernanda, Sarah, ___!" (I forget the third name) to no avail. I reach for my cellphone but discover that I have neither my cellphone nor my wallet; I only have my room keys. Had the employees stolen them, or did I simply forget to bring them? The Children of Prayer are completely devoid of emotion, indifferent to my situation. They continue to sing their eerie, ghostly sounds.
Among the Children of Prayer, I spot Valentina, Fernanda sister. She is about 12 years old (but not in real life). I ask her, "Do you know where your sister is?" Although she is an unemotional Child of Prayer, her eyes light up as she remembers, deep in her repressed memory, that she has a sister named Fernanda. Realizing that Fernanda is lost, she frantically runs up the stairs to look for her.
I too run up the stairs from the main hall (which is kind of like a basement), which lead to the outdoors. When I finally emerge in sunlight, I see the Children of Prayer playing in a large playground. One of the features of the playground is a large watchtower. I climb the watchtower and ask one of the boys if he's seen an older girl. He responds coldly, "I don't care." As he brushes my arm with his, I feel cold shivers. He asks for the name of the girl I'm looking for. I fear the boy's intentions so I give a fake name, "Vyys." I climb back down the watchtower.
The scary boy tosses me a basketball down from the tower. I catch the ball, dribble it, and try to shoot it in a nearby hoop (I miss). I throw the ball back up to him, and he catches it. The boy seems a lot nicer now than before, content with the mild entertainment of playing catch with basketball. We do this a couple more times. The end.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Asians suck at English
Last night I was chilling with some Asian friends. Adam made a remark about how someone's fingers are very "dexterious" (placing emphasis on "TER" as in dexterity). I told him that the correct word is "dexterous" (also spelled dextrous, emphasis on DEX). He did not believe me and maintained that the correct word was "dexterious." Jason, another Asian, sided with Adam's logic, saying "yeah, since the noun is dexterity, the adjective is probably dexterious."
There were eight Asians total in our group. I asked around, certain that someone would know the correct answer and side with me that "dexterious" isn't even a word. But to my surprise, NOT A SINGLE PERSON KNEW. And Jason and Adam still believed I was wrong. So I had to google the word later just to prove Adam wrong.
If there were just a single WHITE PERSON there he/she would have known the answer and sided with me. To give you an idea of what I mean, let me just say that the FIRST WHITE PERSON I asked about this (after the incident) knew that the correct word is "dexterous," but EIGHT ASIANS did NOT have ANY IDEA. Bottom line is Asians are all FOBs, despite what you might think, and they fucking suck at English.
There were eight Asians total in our group. I asked around, certain that someone would know the correct answer and side with me that "dexterious" isn't even a word. But to my surprise, NOT A SINGLE PERSON KNEW. And Jason and Adam still believed I was wrong. So I had to google the word later just to prove Adam wrong.
If there were just a single WHITE PERSON there he/she would have known the answer and sided with me. To give you an idea of what I mean, let me just say that the FIRST WHITE PERSON I asked about this (after the incident) knew that the correct word is "dexterous," but EIGHT ASIANS did NOT have ANY IDEA. Bottom line is Asians are all FOBs, despite what you might think, and they fucking suck at English.
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