Posts from — January 2008

These lovingly hand-painted resin figurines are based on the nightmarish characters that populate the paintings of Hieronymous Bosch (1450 - 1516) (Hieronymous Bosch on wikipedia)

They’re sort of like action figures for grown up kids who are just a bit artsy and just a bit twisted. Incidentally you can buy these figurines and MANY others at talariaenterprises.com

I’m really torn amongst several reactions: I’m confused, a bit disgusted, more than a bit intrigued and delighted and part of me just wants a whole SHELF of these weird little dust-catchers. How does it make you feel to see bits of “high culture” — especially pretty STRANGE and obscure culture — mass manufactured into easily consumable bits? How many of these things do YOU want? Which ones?

(Male) This wasn’t long enough or detailed enough to be a nightmare but it’s a pretty striking image from a dream I just had. I was waiting in a relatively large room that was stately and dark. I was alone. I stood beside a piece of furniture, a long piece of darkly stained wood like either a bar or the desk at a hotel. Just sitting on this counter top was a toy that initially looked like a child’s wind up carousel. I picked it up and turned the key and that revealed its more grisly attributes. It was like a mechanism for public execution. As the circular portion spun slowly, a parade of human dolls mounted a set of steps, step after step. When they reached the top, the head of the dolls fit into a noose attached to the carousel. The next turn of the wheel whisked them off the steps and the dolls dangled by their necks as they spun around the carousel. It was accompanied by the most banal and cheerful music plinked out on metal tines. I looked around the room to see whose toy this might be or if it were a gift, for whom it might be intended but I was still quite alone.

(Male) Let me start by noting that I realize this nightmare is anatomically impossible for SEVERAL reasons — I paid attention in “Health” class enough to know that. I was visiting my mother who apparently lived in a different city. We were strolling through this nice, gentrified area that obviously used to be freight warehouses in a rail yard but that had been transformed into a series offices, coffee stands, lofts, places to eat over-priced lunches and small shops that sold small, expensive pieces of junk. I was very surprised when we came to one door that Mother indicated was her office, surprised because Mom retired something like 20 years ago. We entered and I found a dark and dirty room, cramped to begin with but that was made even more difficult to navigate by this huge, old-style dentist’s chair bolted right to the middle of the floor. It was in bad shape — the arm pads had been torn up by generations of fingernails clawing against the pain. Mom had me sit in the chair. She had an assistant in this tiny room as well, a burly young woman who stood quietly in the shadowy corner but seemed prepared to hold my legs down if it proved necessary.

…Mom asked me to open my mouth and she forced this bottle down my throat, open end down…

Mother explained that she needed to “harvest some babies” from me. She showed me a simple device that would do the work. It was a clear glass bottle, probably half a liter with a very wide mouth and this weird attachment that dangled from the mouth inside the bottle. The attachment looked a bit like a noose. Mom asked me to open my mouth and she forced this bottle down my throat, open end down. The way the trap worked, I was lead to believe, was that a developing fetus would eventually grow to be so large that it had to stick its head inside the bottle and once it did that, its head would be trapped inside the noose. The baby would be caught and Mom could then gently twist the bottle out of my throat and she’d have a baby. Yes, I realize how twisted this sounds. At least this was how Mom explained the procedure to me. I didn’t question why she kept putting another and another bottle down my throat, pushing them in hard, screwing them to force them down my esophagus. If the idea was that they were to catch a developing fetus, well, wouldn’t I only need one at a time? That is, even if guys DID develop fetuses at all! And why were they going down my throat? I woke up snoring so badly I was choking.

And since I bet you’d ask, no, my wife is not pregnant.

(Male) I was a movie star and I was researching a new role. Since I was going to portray a policeman, I was riding along with some policemen in their car, just out on patrol. A call came in suddenly that there was an armed robbery taking place just a couple blocks from where we were. We had to respond. We pulled up in front of the bank along with several other police cars. There were apparently three robbers and they had taken some hostages. It was going to turn ugly. But then without thinking or asking anyone I started walking toward the bank. I was already in costume, that is, I was wearing a policeman’s uniform and I had a gun in my holster, a real gun with real bullets for some reason. Without asking anyone, I walked into the bank and said something like “Hey cut that out.” Then I smiled broadly with my movie star smile. The robbers recognized me immediately and let down their guard. They said “Hey it’s {whatever my name was} What are you doing here?” And I say “I’m doing research for my new movie and I saw some guys in here who might be fans of mine.”

And then I took my gun out of my holster and shot each of the men square in the chest - one, two, three - and then I shot them each again - one, two, three. The expression on their faces didn’t change. They didn’t understand what had happened. They just sort of melted down to the floor, dead. Situation resolved. When I woke up I was horrified at how cold and callous I had been, that’s the part that was a nightmare.

(Female) This dream is probably as much embarrassing as it is scary. It involves a man I work with who is deceitful and underhanded but in a bumbling, doltish way. For instance, he recently stole a set of computer speakers from a co-worker’s office and tried to pretend he hadn’t, even though they were sitting right on his desk, connected to his computer. When questioned about it, the speakers appeared back in the co-worker’s office, unceremoniously dumped in a pile and this guy acted like nothing had happened.

Regardless, in the dream this jerk is trying to be a serious bad guy. He’s got a handgun and he’s robbing a whole room of people. It felt a bit like a “Great Train Robbery” set up. But he was sort of bungling this robbery too. I thought to myself I’d be damned if I’d let this idiot have my wedding ring so I slipped it off and buried it deeply in my bra. When he came around to me, I told him I had nothing. He leered in “Give me your JEWELS” like he was a bit more trying to be a pirate now rather than a train robber. And I showed him my fingers and there there were no rings on them. So he pats me down, quite roughly and thoroughly in fact but he is still too stupid to find my ring.

(Male) This was perhaps more just a strange dream or perhaps just a strange thing that happened while I was dreaming. But I was visiting a friend in some downtown area. My guess is that it was Toronto. It was evening and we decided to go out and hit some of the night life so we exited the skyscraper, crossed the street and started walking down the steps into the subway tunnel. It was so much fun to see this person - whoever it was, I don’t even remember if the person was male or female or if it was someone I actually know - but it was so much fun and it felt so comfortable to be with this person that we were laughing and joking as we descended into the subway.

…And we didn’t really notice that there were absolutely no lights on in the tunnel, that the subway was totally pitch black…

And we didn’t really notice that there were absolutely no lights on in the tunnel, that the subway was totally pitch black. It wasn’t until we got down to the bottom of the stairs that we sort of realized that the lights were out. And at that point we also realized that we were surrounded by people screaming, men and women screaming at the top of their lungs, in terror and in pain. I woke up from the dream at this point and felt the pillow under my head BUT I STILL HEARD THE SCREAMING for probably a good 4 or 5 seconds. I knew I was awake. I sat up in bed and looked around and only gradually did the screaming disappear. Weird, eh?