Dream Perception

I talk about dreams a lot, I admit. They fascinate me. They should fascinate everybody. Because nobody really knows much about them, no matter how much they’re studied. I actually did my multigenre senior research paper in high school on the subject of dreams, which built up pretty much my entire perception of them. Up until now, I saw dreams as the brain organizing leftover thoughts and material while the rest of the body rested, though I love the theory that dreams are “practice” for real-life situations, whether it be a fight for your life or a mundane day at the office.

But last night I dreamed up a whopper.

It shook my foundational beliefs about dreams just a little.

It differed from my usual dreams. Okay, there was a fight or two. There was a dystopian subterranean society. But it all started…

…with a job interview.

Let’s begin.

From what I gather, I had graduated college and was ready to step into a new graphic design career. I had an interview scheduled with some really nice company in a big city. I remember approaching the office building, all glimmering windows under a bright sky, and stepping into a pristine, professional-looking lobby where an employee waited to greet me. They even showed me to the interview room, where I discovered it would be a group interview, myself and two other potential employees.

We entered a white, sort of board meeting-type room, with our future employer at the head of a table. We all took our seats on the side of the table to the boss’s left. The wall opposite us had at least three tall windows that spilled early noon light into the room. Each of us had a notepad and writing utensil on the table in front of us. Looking back, I noticed a few dream inconsistencies: the notepads changed to newspapers eventually, and as far as I could tell spelled out mainly nonsense, and we had Sharpies instead of normal pens, and one of the other interviewees turned into a friend from high school; all normal dream things. I remember the room overall as white with a hint of blue.

The interview began well. The head of the company talked about actual job requirements and all of them made perfect sense, even now that I’m not dreaming. This is strange for dreams because conversations usually make little contextual sense. And the whole situation seems unusually mundane, especially for me. Job interview? Seriously? The lack of stress, confusion, and things going wrong proves this was not dream reflecting on my personal anxiety/stress levels towards that particular situation. At least… not in the way it first seemed…

Being a dream, it took a turn for the strange. As part of the interview, we had to fight. I can’t remember who our opponent was specifically, but she was a woman in business dress and she was very good at what she did. My fellow interviewees took their turns first, in another room. Then it was my turn.

This room was darker, mostly wood paneled walls and floors, with obtrusively incandescent lights on 70s? style light fixtures. This part had me all worked up: sweat, adrenaline, hyped breaths, even a little bit of anxiety shakes. This lady attacked like a crazed drunk mugger; she held up this ceramic pitcher and smashed it against a piece of furniture pushed against the wall to give herself a jagged weapon. I remember this room overall as brown with deep gold.

I barely held my own against her. I got in a few good strikes, but I strove mainly to disarm and incapacitate her as quickly as possible. She got my left arm pretty good with her ceramic weapon, a gash just below the elbow crease. It stung like heck, but I worried more about not letting her gouge my eyes out. I finally got the broken pitcher away from her and the fight ended. Afterward, I apologized to her for my general lack of competence. I recall our exchange exactly.

The woman spoke to the other two in turn, asking them about their performance. My arm had almost stopped bleeding, but the skin was pretty inflamed, and somehow I got involved unfolding a napkin, intending to clean my arm up. I must have been a little preoccupied, because my friend next to me gave me a nudge and said, “Listen to her.”

The woman stopped in front of me, clearly waiting for an answer.

Me: “Sorry, it’s just… I don’t- I’ve found I don’t handle stress well under pressure.” *to myself, thinking of my potential job* I probably should not have said that…

Her: “Really? I thought you handled it well. Good work.”

Me: *uncertain* “Not that well. It’s happened before. In a sparring match, there was this girl-”

I stopped myself here, because something amazing happened. I realized I was telling the story wrong.

Me: “Whoops, I mean, I was sparring this guy in class, and he was way bigger than me, and I didn’t react very well because I was nervous, so I kinda got beat up.”

The woman smiled knowingly.


In the dream, I recalled my actual life outside the dream, remembered my first time sparring a taekwondo buff in class as a noob and the result of it, and related it absolutely correct to a dream NPC.


When I eventually woke up, I was super disoriented. My arm felt strange, and I was surprised to find it lacking a bleeding slash. I was super aware of it the rest of the morning; I kept touching the place I thought should hurt, trying to wipe off blood. And all I could think about was how I remembered my actual sparring match and related it in the dream. Not once ever in any dream I’ve EVER dreamed have I been able to bring in my waking world life. If I’m not a different person entirely in dreams, the most I retain is martial arts and people and places I recognize. Dialogue? Meaningless and confusing.

So that is how I am 96% convinced I spent the night/early morning in an alternate reality.


Note: I did mention a dystopian subterranean society. This whole dream, from what I gather, took place in the future. A huge section of the world’s population had built a community deep underground years and years ago, very similar to the situation in Roderick Gordon’s Tunnels. The surface world tried to get them to return, but it ended badly. I remember only one scene with them: a little girl, about five or six, dressed in an earth-stained smock, standing at the entrance to the subterranean world, stretching her hands toward an overcast sky, absolutely enthralled as she experienced rain for the first time.

In some parts of the dream physics were kind of skewed, disproportional, and just plain weird. There was also a train that nearly ran me over and actually hit my elbow pretty hard, but since it was a three-foot-high train I doubt it would have mattered. Pff. Dream logic.


Don’t Be Stupid

I dreamed about the zombie apocalypse last night. Which is weird even for me because 1) I’ve never dreamed of the zombie apocalypse before, and 2) I’ve only seen two zombie movies (World War Z and Warm Bodies) and it was not like either of them at all.

At work last month, my employer talked to us about the drunk guy that wandered into her house while she was watching “The Walking Dead.” Naturally, the girl I worked with that night and myself decided to psych ourselves out by imagining how a zombie apocalypse at the hospital would be. The employee parking lot happened to be the most likely place to get jumped by zombies, and we spent our whole break envisioning all the cliché scenarios we’d have to endure to get to our vehicles.

So of course, guess where my dream apocalypse took place. You guessed it, the hospital.

Except it looked nothing like the hospital. And I never actually saw any zombies that I can remember. I do remember being in a plain white-colored room filled with ordinary furniture. Some strangers were in the room with me, but in the dream I knew them.

Realizing that the zombies would be coming any minute, I constructed a barricade against the door using every piece of furniture. I am quite proud of that barricade, even now. That door wouldn’t open for a battering ram.

I turned away to find some weapons. When I turned back, my barrier was gone. Vanished. I looked to my companions in disbelief.

“Pff. We don’t need a barricade. There’s no way the zombies can get through that door,” one scoffed. My idiot companions had caused my indestructible barricade to disappear.

I tried to reconstruct the barricade using measly scraps and pieces, but they shoved me away and glared at me in a bothered sort of way.


I don’t remember much of what happened after that, but I think it involved the stupids being eaten by zombies.

The moral of this story is, don’t be a stupid idiot (stupidiot XD) for heaven’s sakes.

Pokemon Adventures

I overdosed myself on epicness last night.

I was listening to Pirates of the Caribbean last night before falling asleep, and thinking about how it could go with battles my Pokemon Nuzlocke comic. And when I did fall asleep, this is the dream that occurred.

Pokemon existed in the real world, or maybe I was in Unova. One or the other. Anyway, at this one big house, there was a Sandile that lived by the front door. It looked just like a real animal. There were some other Pokemon (I think they were Lillipup and Woobat, but I don’t exactly remember) that the Sandile often played with.

Sometime that day, my friend and I were visiting the house. We walked outside just in time to see a bald guy grab two of the Pokemon and run. My friend and I, and the Sandile, chased after him.

As we began to get closer, I looked at the Sandile and asked, “Those Pokemon are your friends, aren’t they? Will you miss them?”

The Sandile nodded, and looked so sad that I picked him up like a kitten and carried the rest of the way. He felt like a big lizard.

We caught up to the thief in front of a little house nearly obscured by trees in the yard, in the middle of this nondescript little neighborhood. He stuffed the Pokemon in a big box and threw it into his sky blue van. I set the Sandile down and sprinted for the van. He started up the engine, but I grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open. He tried to get away by zooming out of the driveway, but I vaulted into the passenger seat.

The thief didn’t seem to care that I was there or that the door was open. He pulled out of the driveway and accelerated rapidly. I screamed at him to stop the van, but he refused. So I leaned over and began beating him up. I had to get those Pokemon back at any cost.

In the dream,  my logic was surprisingly unimpaired. I thought, If I can knock him out, I can take control of the van. But I’ll have to be careful, otherwise he might stomp on the gas when he gets knocked out. I remembered in the dream reading something that I read in real life, which talked about when people have seizures while driving. It said that their foot might hit the gas during a seizure, leading to a wreck.

Since I was in an awkward position to back-knuckle his temple, I settled for dragonhead fists. In real life, I probably would have killed the guy. Since it was just a dream, it took quite a few violent strikes to do anything. He got knocked out for a few seconds, but the rest of the time, he tried to fight me off while dodging the shopping carts that were magically appearing in the road. The last thing I remember from the dream was repeatedly punching him in the face and wondering if he was trying to kidnap me.


So, you people probably read the title and said, “What the freak!” Well, once this post is finished, you will not only know all there is to know about Uclai, you will probably be even more confused than before. On to the Uclai. I had this dream about them, see.

Well, the first part has nothing to do with Uclai. All I remember was our family taking a bunch of toddlers to the fun park, where we attempted to play video games with them. The video games got mad if one played them wrong, and malfunctioned and turned off. I remember one where you played as tin cans throwing rubber balls at each other. Miss, and the can got all mad and started knocking down the other players onscreen. Weird. Suddenly, I appeared in the car, driving down this busy road in the middle of a snowstorm. I looked up on the cliff, and saw an enormous animal, eighteen feet at least at the shoulder, walking towards a man.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s an Uclai,” my dad replied.

“I thought Uclai were native to that one mountain range near here.” (The mountain range actually had a name in the dream, but I forgot it.)

“They are, but that one belongs to a farmer. See, he’s herding cows.” I nodded, even thought there wasn’t a cow in sight. When we got home, I grabbed my camera in hopes of getting a shot of the Uclai. I ran out the back door, and almost tripped over a large mouse with a baby mouse. I made a grab for them, but they ran into a small hole in the dirt hill and were lost. My attention went back to the Uclai, but there were too many houses in the way to get a good picture, and more seemed to be appearing the more I moved… Dreams do that sometimes. It’s frustrating.

Then I appeared on the farm of the farmer who apparently owned the Uclai. The gravel driveway was covered in deep talon tracks, and a large stone was scored by claws. Some random people (who I apparently know) and I began following the tracks, when someone pointed up. In the sky, there was a huge black Pterodactyl, eating birds. Then…

I woke up. Sadness. So now that Uclai have been explained, here is a picture of one:

Now imagine it HUGE, and you get the picture.

Coincidence Shade In the Garbage

Who cares if the title is long? It wouldn’t be if Coincidence Shade had a shorter name.

One day, shortly before he ran for a long time, Coincidence Shade was emptying the trash down a metal chute when a Radda came sneaking up behind him and kicked him in the butt, sending him tumbling down the garbage chute. The ride was not pleasant.

Meanwhile, the three friends of Coincidence Shade were taking a new underground hovership, the Solo, for a test drive. Their names were John Social, Lucas, and Leah. (Yes, this is the part of the dream that went Star Wars. They looked a lot like Luke, Leia, and Han Solo.) The Solo had some major technical malfunctions: the control joystick had broken off, and the Solo was heading for the self-renewing garbage conveyor belt. In a sudden fit of fury, John Social slammed his hand down on the sparking hole where the joystick used to be, resulting in a large burn on his hand, which hurt a lot. Lucas thought this was very funny. Leah shouted,”Look! It’s Coinicidence Shade!” All heads turned and… CRUNCH. The Solo hit the conveyor belt and broke a large chunk out of it. Since the conveyor belt was self-renewing, another piece of conveyor belt appeared right through the Solo, forcing the door open and breaking a window. The Solo was right up against the Garbage Chopping Machine and the blade was actually barely stripping the paint off one side. Gargage continued to move along the conveyor belt through the Solo. Everyone aboard had spotted Coicidence Shade and were waiting for him to enter the Solo so the could help him off the conveyor belt, but several Raddas were spotted behind him. They were able to maintain their balance, and were running along the belt towards Coincidence Shade. So the Solo’s crew pulled out their ray guns and shot the Raddas dead. Then they saved Coincidence Shade, who was able to fix the Solo. The end.

Coincidence Shade Runs a Long Time

Okay, you are probably wondering what the heck a coincidence shade is. The Answer is: Coincidence Shade is not a what, he’s a him. I had this really wacko dream last night and I am going to tell you the whole thing without editing. In “I died but not really, there was a whole ton of editing. Yes, so on to Coincidence Shade. (By the way, that really is his name.)

Coincidence shade was patrolling the edge of the canyon, looking for Raddas (the bad guys), when ten of so soldiers in uniform suddenly went charging past, straight off the edge of the canyon. Coincidence Shade was just about to follow them when another soldier ran up and shouted, “That is not advisable, Commander Shade! It is nearly three miles to the bottom! And there is a lake!” Then he jumped himself. Coincidence Shade’s curiosity was getting the best of him, so he jumped. About halfway down, he started falling headfirst, and got himself into a spot of bother behind a large chunk of stone. Just when he was least expecting it, the stone moved, making a crack just wide enough for Coincidence Shade to slip through and start falling head first.


At the very bottom, the two soldiers that had not jumped into their hoverspeeders and zoomed away were waiting, one on each side of a puddle that was no more that three feet across. This was the lake, because it was extraordinarily deep for a puddle. One of them spotted Coincidence Shade falling. “He followed. I knew he would,” he said. Both men got ready to fish Coincidence Shade out of the very deep puddle. It appeared he was about to make a perfect dive. But a sudden gust of wind knocked him off course and he crashed head first onto the hard rock instead. Shrugging, the two men jumped on their hoverspeeders and sped away.

This next part has a name, surprisingly. It is called “Coincidence Shade wakes up.”

Coincidence Shade woke up with a very bad headache. Standing near him was a Radda, dressed in black. “Oh, look at this. Coincidence Shade,” the Radda said. “If I were in a good mood, I would leave you there. But..” He trailed off. Coincidence Shade took a wild guess. “You’re in a bad mood?” The Radda nodded. “An extremely bad mood.” So Coincidence Shade jumped up and started to run. Everyone knows that when a Radda is  in a bad mood, it is not a good idea to stick around. But the Radda followed Coincidence Shade, and Raddas never get tired. Coincidence Shade did get tired, but the Radda was too close for comfort, so he ran on. Eventually, they left the canyon on a down escalator and continued the sprint all the way back to the good guy base. However, once Coincidence Shade and the Radda entered the boundaries, the Radda disappeared. A man nearby explained, “Anti-Radda Shield. Just finished installing it.”

So, that is the first adventure, without editing, of Coincidence Shade. There were still a lot more, and this was all in one night! In one dream! So wait for the next Coincidence Shade. It is called Coincidence Shade and the Chopping Machine.