(no subject)

Ok, usually I don't think dream posts rank very high on the interesting scale, but this one I can write up to not be an introverted mess. And I am not making any of it up. It was an early morning dream, close to my standard time for waking up, which means my brain was starting to get ready for the day, a little more primed to remember, a little more ready to be active.

I was talking to a woman who looked like that nurse with the short hair on "The Flying Doctors", who was also later on "Farscape", telling her the standard story I tell all Aussies about how everyone in the Netherlands now think Down Under is one big wasteland of tiny villages with beautiful doctors in Cessnas, and we were laughing about it. I looked around the landscape we were travelling in -- gliding in something it felt, was I flying, was she? -- and I saw a strange animal float by, and away again until it was tiny. I said something, that I wanted to see it again, and it came back, closer, so I could make out what it was. A huge flying fish, floating in the breeze. I recently saw an anime with this image in it, which is probably why that neuron was firing, but, the thing is, is that fish, floating around in the air as if they are swimming, the boundary between the normal above-water world and their aquarium dissolved, is a dream image I ponder when I am awake. So I was triggered into lucidity.

"I am sorry, but I am dreaming, and I have to explore something else. Catch you later." And I flew away. Dream flying is a behavior I have pretty much mastered, I wake up often remembering having done it, in many situations, even if the dream was not lucid. It is alsmot second nature by now, and I am really overcoming my fear of flying very high. The physics of it are stable these days, I have focussed on it for a long time.

And I said I would fly into my future. I wanted to see what I chose to be in my future. And at that point I think I lost most lucidity. and just had a remaining nagging feeling this was not normal.

So what was my house like? It seems that in my future I live in some misformed version of the summer house we lived in for a year when we just moved back to the Netherlands and were looking for a real house. (I was nine.) My job seemed to be genetic designer, I was told by the inhabitants when I said I wasn't me but past-me, and I looked around and strange little pets were running around: fluffball puppies with bird beaks filled with row upon row of teeth, visible when they yawned, and odd yet cute remixed bunnies. I had also made for myself a really devoted, blond, green-eyed slave guy, more besotted than Wayoun on ST:DS9, and I remember wondering why the hell I did that. There's no joy in that conquest; of course he loves me, I made him to love me. Cute though, if way on the skinny side for me. I petted him, and he seemed confused by what I asked him about himself. Devoted, pretty, and dumb. I gave him a stick to play with and he liked being given something by me so he played. And who were these people I lived with? I went downstairs to my bedroom and found I also had some normal pets: two cats on my comforter. And four dogs underneath it, I found when I pulled the comforter away. Four.

I found out I fulfilled at least one sexual fantasy as the evidence both said hi to me, but those twin guys just didn't even look super handsome. I remember thinking that even in the future fantasies ended up not being perfect when you get to do them. In the future I live in a distorted brown-wood, faux-birch laminate-furniture appointed, extruded, depressingly bog-standard northern european holiday bungalow, in an extended friends group, with a slave, some fuckbuds, and enough pets to qualify me for closer scrutiny by the Department Of Health.

Then I went upstairs again, and I made fun with Farrah Fawcett about her doing a choking move on me that was to cliche for words so of course I got out of it. Then I got in a fight with Linda Evans, so I spilled wine on her silver silk shirt. I am not making any of that up.

I think my subconcious was telling me through random firings of neurons that in the future, I might still be really, really, homo gay.