RAW TEXT (short version): Took pix Everyone likes me Into society room hit on chick kiss good results. I leave. Days later dream breathe/run to same room sign forms for society no time commitment. Days later drink weird juice fan very cold. I dance but they say "wut u doin?" Not party. Tests. Effects subside but I know movie ends w everyone dying. Oh before that, while fan cold Mr Grantham goes out of room and doesn't let me out. Concerned admin. Ok so he's gonna make us drink another. I slowly then quietly run away. run a lot till I in field near dorm but he appear from other side We judo (he Han now) but he say if I beat him at judo he'll curse/kill me I'm like wtf.
DETAILED RECOLLECTIONS (long version):
I was with my family, and we were leaving this place to go home. Parents and sister had gone ahead, but I had taken a detour into one of many rooms in this building. It is some sort of long but informal dining room, with long tables.
I stride confidently into the room and there's a lot of dudes and a couple of chicks. They are just drinking and having a good time, and they remind me of frat/sorority people. Though no one knows me, everyone welcomes me because I am the new random guy who walked in. Somehow I also strike up a fun conversation with the one hot chick.
There is one adult about 30 years old. He takes some pictures of us. I pose with the hot chick and kiss her a bit. She playfully pretends to reject me but actually likes it.
I say gotta go and run back to rejoin my family and we leave. I realize no one has my phone number or even name. Oh well.
---stuff happens here. I think maybe I even awaken for a bit, then fall back asleep.---
I am jogging back to the dining room place (which I now know to be in UC Berkeley), because I want to get a chance to hang out with those fun people again. I arrive at the sign-up headquarters building, which is empty. The only person in the building is the 30-yr-old cameraman I saw earlier. He tells me he is the head of the organization of these people. I ask what the "time commitments" are. He tells me there are no mandatory tasks, chores, or volunteer activities, or any sort of "time commitment" other than having fun -- no strings attached other than an $80 payment per year for booze and such. So I sign up.
Next I walk into another dining hall style room. The people I met earlier are all there. We start drinking a bit. I also drink some spiked punch.
Minutes later I start to realize the air coming from the fan is very, very cold relative to the rest of the room. Since it is a regular fan with no cooling device I grow suspicious and ask people what is going on. They don't seem to care. Everyone is just sitting or talking quietly; no one is partying.
To try to relieve the tension I get up and dance in the middle of a circle. But they look at me like "what are you doing?" and it's not because of my bad dancing. I realize it is because we're not here to party. We are drinking strange drugs as an experiment for the 30-yr-old dude. Everyone is sitting around idly or talking quietly, looking serious. No smiles. No laughter. I only just realized.
I try to exit the room, but the 30-yr-old dude -- who is now my band teacher Mr. Grantham -- beats me to the door, exits the room and locks the door so I can't get out. I rattle the door handle thinking that he is not evil and will let me leave, but he just glares at me. I look outside the clear windows walls and he is talking to an investigator, apparently assuring him that nothing strange is going on inside the room.
The fan is still unnaturally cold. I know that the coldness is part of a hallucination, an effect of the drug.
The effects are subsiding but I know this dream will end with everyone dying, including me if I don't act soon. The 30-yr-old -- who is now my former Sound Art teacher -- walks back into the room and prepares a bubbly, pinkish liquid in a pot. He begins to offer the liquid to each person, all of whom voluntarily walk up and drink it. There's no way I'm going to subject myself to another, possibly deadly drug. Yet I know refusal is unacceptable and will be punished. So I rise and begin walking towards the exit, slowly at first to not appear suspicious, before breaking into a full-out dream-sprint (meaning, I am running as fast as I can as though underwater).
I successfully escape the room and run up some streets. A car rounds a corner and almost hits me. The man is still chasing me.
Suddenly as I am setting foot on a field (which resembles Duke University more than UC Berkeley) the guy -- who is now the Caucasian version of my Korean Judo Master -- appears from the OPPOSITE direction from which I was running. We judo spar a bit. He warns me that if I beat him, he will curse and/or kill me. My last thought is, "now that is very uncharacteristic of Master Han -- shouldn't he be happy if I beat him, because it means he taught me well?"
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
parkour/judo dream
I remember towards the end of my dream that I open my backyard gate a bit and peer outside, watching the silhouette of some dude my age walking towards me. I feel that he is hostile so I start to run back and he fires a couple of shots at me.
I parkour over my backyard's tall cement fence. Since he can't parkour he has to go all the way around to get his car first, during which I hit the emergency red button on an emergency post.
A police car who received my distress call zooms by and a backpack is flung out its window into my arms. I reach into the bag; the policeman has provided me a pistol with which to defend myself.
The antagonist, who is now my friend Sid, has finally found his car and is driving towards me. I shoot at him and his accomplice directly in the head, but either I miss or they have hard heads. Then they get out of their car and run towards me. Finally I drop one of the one who is not Sid after multiple head shots. The other guy (who is also not Sid anymore) runs up to me and I do ouchi-gari on him and then try to get into an advantageous ground position to pin him.
All this time the police officer is just sitting there in his car watching the show.
I parkour over my backyard's tall cement fence. Since he can't parkour he has to go all the way around to get his car first, during which I hit the emergency red button on an emergency post.
A police car who received my distress call zooms by and a backpack is flung out its window into my arms. I reach into the bag; the policeman has provided me a pistol with which to defend myself.
The antagonist, who is now my friend Sid, has finally found his car and is driving towards me. I shoot at him and his accomplice directly in the head, but either I miss or they have hard heads. Then they get out of their car and run towards me. Finally I drop one of the one who is not Sid after multiple head shots. The other guy (who is also not Sid anymore) runs up to me and I do ouchi-gari on him and then try to get into an advantageous ground position to pin him.
All this time the police officer is just sitting there in his car watching the show.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Dream: President strikes deal with devil
The president, currently an old white male, tells me, "You know, a deal with the devil could greatly benefit America." Then the devil appears. He is a normal-looking guy who is bald. But he is very big, like a giant.
The devil asks the president, "Mr. President, pardon my bringing up a matter of intolerable insignificance... but is there a fly on my head?" pointing to the normal-looking fly on his bald head.
"Why, yes," answers the president. The devil then grabs the fly and flicks it towards the president. While sailing through the air it becomes a large palm-sized mosquito. The president catches this mosquito in his hands and clutches it like it is a valuable piece of gold, speechless with reverence and awe of the devil. But his facial expression soon changes from admiration to dismay, as he chokes and dies from mosquito-poisoning.
More or less what the Devil looked like
More or less what the president looked like
The devil asks the president, "Mr. President, pardon my bringing up a matter of intolerable insignificance... but is there a fly on my head?" pointing to the normal-looking fly on his bald head.
"Why, yes," answers the president. The devil then grabs the fly and flicks it towards the president. While sailing through the air it becomes a large palm-sized mosquito. The president catches this mosquito in his hands and clutches it like it is a valuable piece of gold, speechless with reverence and awe of the devil. But his facial expression soon changes from admiration to dismay, as he chokes and dies from mosquito-poisoning.
More or less what the Devil looked like More or less what the president looked like
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Ideas for the future of gaming
Games are becoming more and more cinematic, featuring almost-photorealistic graphics, 7.1 surround sound (better than a home theater), stereotypical Hollywood music (not a bad thing), and stereotypical Hollywood special effects (not a bad thing either).
After all the technological advances recently made, the biggest pitfall of modern games is still the mode of input. Allow me to explain.
Here I am playing the story for Modern Warfare 2. This scene is set in a sub-urban setting that uncannily resembles Pleasanton. We're driving down a small street in a tank and I see Pleasanton-ish houses to either side, one of which is hanging an American flag from their wall. The unmistakable American format of the "Speed Limit: 25" sign is an intense reminder that this war is being fought in the US. I think to myself, "holy shit this is intense; I've never played a war game set in such a familiar place." And now there are people shooting at me, and I have to run for cover. Behind a house with wooden fences that look exactly like the ones we have in Pleasanton. Oh, and there's 3D sound.
Given all this awesomeness you'd think we'd have invented by now a way to simulate running around and crouching. But no. Just like 10 years ago I still used WASD and the mouse to move. To sprint faster all I have to do is press shift. Oh so hard. In fact the funniest part was the intense scene in which I have to pull a knife out of my stomach to throw it at someone, and it takes like a whole minute to pull it out because I am in pain, and the screen is all blurry and intense, and... the way to take it out is to press F really fast.
Ideas for the future of gaming:
1. An omni-directional treadmill on which you can run. People are trying to develop something like this but so far, demonstrations have not been able to go beyond walking speed.
2. 3D goggles or contact lenses that span your entire vision. This is the one I'm iffy about. Even with one eye closed, we still can choose where to focus. Is it possible to simulate focusing on 50 meters away with the screen is 0.1 inches away? Dunno.
3. High-resolution "texture" (in a literal, not graphical sense) gloves. Each finger of the glove will have a matrix of tiny "pixels" that can be raised or lowered. A rough material will probably have staggered raised pixels. A smooth material will have all pixels at the same level. To simulate sliding your hand across something, simply perform translation on the pixels as you would an LCD screen.
4. A way to simulate parkour: Is there some way to simulate doing a pull-up by using a full-bodied suit with joint locks and strength resistance at every joint, and a treadmill that can also rise and lower in elevation? What about a cat grab (parkour move)? I've been thinking about this and can't come up with a solution. I think maybe if the suit was given an extremity that can stably attach to the ceiling, it would work. Or the treadmill can spontaneously spawn obstacles when you get into range, by folding and unfolding wood really fast.
Feel free to steal any of these ideas as long as it means progress will ensue. I look forward to the day that I can play Mirror's Edge with my entire body instead of just mouse and keyboard.
Oh and I know someone might tell me it would be simpler to just "do this stuff in real life." But it is hard to jump across a 20-foot chasm between two skyscrapers in real life, while pursued by a mob of machine gunning helicopters.
After all the technological advances recently made, the biggest pitfall of modern games is still the mode of input. Allow me to explain.
Here I am playing the story for Modern Warfare 2. This scene is set in a sub-urban setting that uncannily resembles Pleasanton. We're driving down a small street in a tank and I see Pleasanton-ish houses to either side, one of which is hanging an American flag from their wall. The unmistakable American format of the "Speed Limit: 25" sign is an intense reminder that this war is being fought in the US. I think to myself, "holy shit this is intense; I've never played a war game set in such a familiar place." And now there are people shooting at me, and I have to run for cover. Behind a house with wooden fences that look exactly like the ones we have in Pleasanton. Oh, and there's 3D sound.
Given all this awesomeness you'd think we'd have invented by now a way to simulate running around and crouching. But no. Just like 10 years ago I still used WASD and the mouse to move. To sprint faster all I have to do is press shift. Oh so hard. In fact the funniest part was the intense scene in which I have to pull a knife out of my stomach to throw it at someone, and it takes like a whole minute to pull it out because I am in pain, and the screen is all blurry and intense, and... the way to take it out is to press F really fast.
Ideas for the future of gaming:
1. An omni-directional treadmill on which you can run. People are trying to develop something like this but so far, demonstrations have not been able to go beyond walking speed.
2. 3D goggles or contact lenses that span your entire vision. This is the one I'm iffy about. Even with one eye closed, we still can choose where to focus. Is it possible to simulate focusing on 50 meters away with the screen is 0.1 inches away? Dunno.
3. High-resolution "texture" (in a literal, not graphical sense) gloves. Each finger of the glove will have a matrix of tiny "pixels" that can be raised or lowered. A rough material will probably have staggered raised pixels. A smooth material will have all pixels at the same level. To simulate sliding your hand across something, simply perform translation on the pixels as you would an LCD screen.
4. A way to simulate parkour: Is there some way to simulate doing a pull-up by using a full-bodied suit with joint locks and strength resistance at every joint, and a treadmill that can also rise and lower in elevation? What about a cat grab (parkour move)? I've been thinking about this and can't come up with a solution. I think maybe if the suit was given an extremity that can stably attach to the ceiling, it would work. Or the treadmill can spontaneously spawn obstacles when you get into range, by folding and unfolding wood really fast.
Feel free to steal any of these ideas as long as it means progress will ensue. I look forward to the day that I can play Mirror's Edge with my entire body instead of just mouse and keyboard.
Oh and I know someone might tell me it would be simpler to just "do this stuff in real life." But it is hard to jump across a 20-foot chasm between two skyscrapers in real life, while pursued by a mob of machine gunning helicopters.
Friday, June 4, 2010
The Ultimate Philosophical Question
One of the most intriguing questions in philosophy (and religion I suppose) is "why was there a world, instead of nothingness?" Well, I've got an even scarier question. It is:
Why is there such a thing as your first-person consciousness? (from my point of view, I substitute "your" for "my")
That question is the ultimate question and sadly slips by many people's brains. I have pondered it since I was three. It was extremely hard for me to word, and I tried to ask my friend this question years ago to no avail; he kept misunderstanding me. He kept saying "because I was lucky enough to be born into this world," which, although true, is completely unrelated to my question.
Hopefully, now that I have worded it a bit better, people will understand the question. In a nutshell, what I am asking is "why isn't the world just full of he's and she's? Why was there a ME?" WARNING: I am not marveling at my fortune for having been born, or put forth in the world, or existed or whatever; instead, I am marveling that there is such a thing as a "me" consciousness in the first place.
Do you understand my question? If so, please discuss, or offer better wordings.
Why is there such a thing as your first-person consciousness? (from my point of view, I substitute "your" for "my")
That question is the ultimate question and sadly slips by many people's brains. I have pondered it since I was three. It was extremely hard for me to word, and I tried to ask my friend this question years ago to no avail; he kept misunderstanding me. He kept saying "because I was lucky enough to be born into this world," which, although true, is completely unrelated to my question.
Hopefully, now that I have worded it a bit better, people will understand the question. In a nutshell, what I am asking is "why isn't the world just full of he's and she's? Why was there a ME?" WARNING: I am not marveling at my fortune for having been born, or put forth in the world, or existed or whatever; instead, I am marveling that there is such a thing as a "me" consciousness in the first place.
Do you understand my question? If so, please discuss, or offer better wordings.
The Ultimate Philosophical Question
One of the most intriguing questions in philosophy (and religion I suppose) is "why was there a world, instead of nothingness?" Well, I've got an even scarier question. It is:
Why is there such a thing as your first-person consciousness? (from my point of view, I substitute "your" for "my")
That question is the ultimate question and sadly slips by many people's brains. I have pondered it since I was three. It was extremely hard for me to word, and I tried to ask my friend this question years ago to no avail; he kept misunderstanding me. He kept saying "because I was lucky enough to be born into this world," which, although true, is completely unrelated to my question.
Hopefully, now that I have worded it a bit better, people will understand the question. In a nutshell, what I am asking is "why isn't the world just full of he's and she's? Why was there a ME?" WARNING: I am not marveling at my fortune for having been born, or put forth in the world, or existed or whatever; instead, I am marveling that there is such a thing as a "me" consciousness in the first place.
Do you understand my question? If so, please discuss, or offer better wordings.
Why is there such a thing as your first-person consciousness? (from my point of view, I substitute "your" for "my")
That question is the ultimate question and sadly slips by many people's brains. I have pondered it since I was three. It was extremely hard for me to word, and I tried to ask my friend this question years ago to no avail; he kept misunderstanding me. He kept saying "because I was lucky enough to be born into this world," which, although true, is completely unrelated to my question.
Hopefully, now that I have worded it a bit better, people will understand the question. In a nutshell, what I am asking is "why isn't the world just full of he's and she's? Why was there a ME?" WARNING: I am not marveling at my fortune for having been born, or put forth in the world, or existed or whatever; instead, I am marveling that there is such a thing as a "me" consciousness in the first place.
Do you understand my question? If so, please discuss, or offer better wordings.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Emo Dream -- Girlfriend Murderer (featuring an original soundtrack by Max Loh!)
The first thing I remember is having a gas-leaking canister shoved in my face.
I'd been walking down a slope towards my UC Berkeley dormitory late at night. This creepy Asian guy in a hooded black sweater had walked towards me and shoved a small smoke-emitting object at my nose.
I felt dazed, even high, and could barely think. Clearly, this gas was potent and life-threatening. (The thing about the dream-state is that it can simulate drugs very, very convincingly. This is because dreaming and being high are quite similar experiences. So I truly believed that this was real and I was going to die.) Immediately I turned away, held my breath, and began to run away from the dormitory. The murderer paused for a moment, then decided not to give chase; he only had a limited amount of time before he either got caught or died, and his target was the dormitory building full of sleeping students.
I ran to the outdoors dining area, which resembled the lunch area in Harvest Park Middle School. Though it was late at night, there were large crowds of people eating there, so I felt safe. I grabbed my phone and flipped it open, still feeling high/dazed. The phone's advanced AI knew I was in danger and therefore automatically dialed the local "911," which was 0900. When greeted by the female receptionist, the first thing I said was, "I'm high." This turned out to be a retarded decision, since it was followed by a slew of "reassurances."
"There's this guy -- " I kept saying, but was constantly interrupted by "calm down, calm down, it's okay." Finally I erupted and yelled "WILL YOU PLEASE JUST LET ME FINISH WHAT I'M SAYING!!!" and they became silent.
"There's this guy with a canister... and it's emanating gas!"
"We were told that 10 times already, Max. Victims are to meet at the east edge of Telegraph Avenue," the 911 girl said. Apparently they had already gotten numerous 911 calls from the dormitory building. Also, the 911 girl recognized my voice. Interesting (NOT AN IMPORTANT PLOT POINT).
So I start to make my way towards Telegraph. Although I am walking through a residential area, dense crowds of people fill the streets, perhaps walking towards the same meeting spot due to the current murder situation.
Someone calls me from an anonymous number. I pick up, "Hello?"
"Where are you?"
"Huh? Who are you?" I retort.
"I'm... Stanley..." says the man at the other end of the line. Then I hear him laughing with his friends just before he hangs up on me, saying "damn I fucked that up so bad." The murderer had attempted and failed to determine my location by calling me.
The murderer is clearly after me, but the crowds are so dense that I feel safe hiding amongst the multitude of faces. Unfortunately, before long one of the murderer's accomplices spies me and yells, "Here's Max!" The killer, who had been walking in front of me, turns around and runs after me. The people around us don't know what's going on, so they try to restrain both of us. I tell the guy who's restraining me, "That guy is going to literally murder me. He's a killer." He lets me go. Still, the murderer approaches rapidly, and I am running very slowly due to low-gravity dream-running. "Were I wearing my running shoes," I tell myself, "I'd be able to outrun this guy easily."
I parkour onto a thin ledge about 5 feet above the ground and grab hold of the chain link fence behind it. My real-life girlfriend and dream-world ex-girlfriend Fernanda emerges from the crowd. She is the murderer (due to a dream detail glitch, I have forgotten about the creepy Asian guy and therefore changed the identity of the murderer). It is raining. Her skin is wet, and her hair long like when we first met. She pleads with me to take her back, because apparently I had time to break up with her earlier when I found out she was a murderer. Naturally, I tell her that I broke up with her because she became a murderer, and I ask her why she tried to gas me. She ignores the question and continues to beg me to take her back. A small crowd has gathered around the scene. I gaze down at her from the ledge. She is so beautiful, and I yearn for her. Yet, she is insane and will attempt to kill me again if we get back together. I am torn and begin to cry. Soundtrack to this scene: a 2-measure phrase that I subconsciously composed that loops over and over again, included here. I made this in two seconds using Logic Pro.
The end.
Representative of the murderer's garbs, but not the setting.
I'd been walking down a slope towards my UC Berkeley dormitory late at night. This creepy Asian guy in a hooded black sweater had walked towards me and shoved a small smoke-emitting object at my nose.
I felt dazed, even high, and could barely think. Clearly, this gas was potent and life-threatening. (The thing about the dream-state is that it can simulate drugs very, very convincingly. This is because dreaming and being high are quite similar experiences. So I truly believed that this was real and I was going to die.) Immediately I turned away, held my breath, and began to run away from the dormitory. The murderer paused for a moment, then decided not to give chase; he only had a limited amount of time before he either got caught or died, and his target was the dormitory building full of sleeping students.
I ran to the outdoors dining area, which resembled the lunch area in Harvest Park Middle School. Though it was late at night, there were large crowds of people eating there, so I felt safe. I grabbed my phone and flipped it open, still feeling high/dazed. The phone's advanced AI knew I was in danger and therefore automatically dialed the local "911," which was 0900. When greeted by the female receptionist, the first thing I said was, "I'm high." This turned out to be a retarded decision, since it was followed by a slew of "reassurances."
"There's this guy -- " I kept saying, but was constantly interrupted by "calm down, calm down, it's okay." Finally I erupted and yelled "WILL YOU PLEASE JUST LET ME FINISH WHAT I'M SAYING!!!" and they became silent.
"There's this guy with a canister... and it's emanating gas!"
"We were told that 10 times already, Max. Victims are to meet at the east edge of Telegraph Avenue," the 911 girl said. Apparently they had already gotten numerous 911 calls from the dormitory building. Also, the 911 girl recognized my voice. Interesting (NOT AN IMPORTANT PLOT POINT).
So I start to make my way towards Telegraph. Although I am walking through a residential area, dense crowds of people fill the streets, perhaps walking towards the same meeting spot due to the current murder situation.
Someone calls me from an anonymous number. I pick up, "Hello?"
"Where are you?"
"Huh? Who are you?" I retort.
"I'm... Stanley..." says the man at the other end of the line. Then I hear him laughing with his friends just before he hangs up on me, saying "damn I fucked that up so bad." The murderer had attempted and failed to determine my location by calling me.
The murderer is clearly after me, but the crowds are so dense that I feel safe hiding amongst the multitude of faces. Unfortunately, before long one of the murderer's accomplices spies me and yells, "Here's Max!" The killer, who had been walking in front of me, turns around and runs after me. The people around us don't know what's going on, so they try to restrain both of us. I tell the guy who's restraining me, "That guy is going to literally murder me. He's a killer." He lets me go. Still, the murderer approaches rapidly, and I am running very slowly due to low-gravity dream-running. "Were I wearing my running shoes," I tell myself, "I'd be able to outrun this guy easily."
I parkour onto a thin ledge about 5 feet above the ground and grab hold of the chain link fence behind it. My real-life girlfriend and dream-world ex-girlfriend Fernanda emerges from the crowd. She is the murderer (due to a dream detail glitch, I have forgotten about the creepy Asian guy and therefore changed the identity of the murderer). It is raining. Her skin is wet, and her hair long like when we first met. She pleads with me to take her back, because apparently I had time to break up with her earlier when I found out she was a murderer. Naturally, I tell her that I broke up with her because she became a murderer, and I ask her why she tried to gas me. She ignores the question and continues to beg me to take her back. A small crowd has gathered around the scene. I gaze down at her from the ledge. She is so beautiful, and I yearn for her. Yet, she is insane and will attempt to kill me again if we get back together. I am torn and begin to cry. Soundtrack to this scene: a 2-measure phrase that I subconsciously composed that loops over and over again, included here. I made this in two seconds using Logic Pro.
The end.
Representative of the murderer's garbs, but not the setting.
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