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Dec. 18th, 2006 05:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fjThe best explanation of dreams I have ever heard is that in essence, they are exactly the same process of model-building of the outside world that happens in your brain when you are awake, except that there are no external stimuli to keep your internal model synchronized with reality because you are asleep. Instead, your mental model-builder that usually makes sense of input from your eyes and ears and nose and the rest of your body has only the filings of your brain to go on, electricity sweeping through random synapses, triggering memories and emotions that then require your consciousness to build a story around.
From time to time very basic pure parts in my brain get triggered, resulting in dreams of sweeping grandeur of a profound emotion. I get reminded what it is like to feel these things without being able to distance myself through irony or logic or cynicism. I must go through them fully. I do not like feeling so fully. It is like being in a movie my real life could never fulfill, of sweeping passion in whatever direction the trigger happened. And it is not just fear that gets done, although it is the one I most frequently remember. Love or friendship or lust are actually equally annoying: the day after the night can never live up to it. These dreams leave me unbalanced the next day, and right now I am already not quite totally at ease anyway.
Of course, these storms then happen against a backdrop of random storytelling in my brain, fitting the narrative of whatever else is being triggered. Which is why last night was all about finding out a dashing life-long masculine older example figure breaks my heart with happiness when he confesses he always loved me, waiting until I was old enough to handle it. (I seriously don't think I have grown a day over seventeen in my dreams, which means that in my day life I am over twice as old as the putrid romantic narratives I put myself into. People tell me sometimes I am so mature, but it seems to not be filtering back into my subconcious needs.)
Alas, regearding that same brain and its narratives, this tidal wave of discovery happened against a backdrop of a plot in which members of a specific cult I do not want to mention in my blog because they sue any negative mention of their name, were weeding out traitors in their midst by taking up chainsaws. I am not entirely sure why I was there, but I was dodging crazed chainsaw wielding maniacs, while making sense of my protector / love-interest. It's hyper-kinetic B-movie action with denoument emotional coming-of-age passions, both epic enough to be worthy of anime needing 4 years of production. ("And then it turns out the galactic emperor is my father! And I am his heir! And I can fly!")
If this tech thing does not work out, I need to write this shit down and find out just how far I can go with the sex scenes to still be able to publish in the Young Adult section. It's Final Fantasy with living, breathing, over the top entanglements, all of them homo. Sci-Fi nerd faglings will eat it up, bodice-rippers for their specific market.
I'll have to find a female pen name. Nobody takes male slash writers seriously, after all.
From time to time very basic pure parts in my brain get triggered, resulting in dreams of sweeping grandeur of a profound emotion. I get reminded what it is like to feel these things without being able to distance myself through irony or logic or cynicism. I must go through them fully. I do not like feeling so fully. It is like being in a movie my real life could never fulfill, of sweeping passion in whatever direction the trigger happened. And it is not just fear that gets done, although it is the one I most frequently remember. Love or friendship or lust are actually equally annoying: the day after the night can never live up to it. These dreams leave me unbalanced the next day, and right now I am already not quite totally at ease anyway.
Of course, these storms then happen against a backdrop of random storytelling in my brain, fitting the narrative of whatever else is being triggered. Which is why last night was all about finding out a dashing life-long masculine older example figure breaks my heart with happiness when he confesses he always loved me, waiting until I was old enough to handle it. (I seriously don't think I have grown a day over seventeen in my dreams, which means that in my day life I am over twice as old as the putrid romantic narratives I put myself into. People tell me sometimes I am so mature, but it seems to not be filtering back into my subconcious needs.)
Alas, regearding that same brain and its narratives, this tidal wave of discovery happened against a backdrop of a plot in which members of a specific cult I do not want to mention in my blog because they sue any negative mention of their name, were weeding out traitors in their midst by taking up chainsaws. I am not entirely sure why I was there, but I was dodging crazed chainsaw wielding maniacs, while making sense of my protector / love-interest. It's hyper-kinetic B-movie action with denoument emotional coming-of-age passions, both epic enough to be worthy of anime needing 4 years of production. ("And then it turns out the galactic emperor is my father! And I am his heir! And I can fly!")
If this tech thing does not work out, I need to write this shit down and find out just how far I can go with the sex scenes to still be able to publish in the Young Adult section. It's Final Fantasy with living, breathing, over the top entanglements, all of them homo. Sci-Fi nerd faglings will eat it up, bodice-rippers for their specific market.
I'll have to find a female pen name. Nobody takes male slash writers seriously, after all.
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Date: 2006-12-19 04:18 am (UTC)Try Anne Rice.
x0
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Date: 2006-12-19 07:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-19 08:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-19 05:21 pm (UTC)merry christmas, dude. my heart belongs to dada.
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Date: 2006-12-19 06:55 pm (UTC)True multi-tasking requires simal-flow young acolyte! ;)
Funly enough, my novel writing project is a fantasy novel... and there is some flying in it... could it be I'm receiving you're telepathic transmissions?!! Are you my muse? ;) If so, your bf is going to be quite disappointed when you sign up for the sex-change (all muses are female for some reason--perhaps 'cause every gay man needs a woman to help him to best his best...)!!!
Anna Madrigal? Oh no. That's taken too!
Best wishes from the Christmas capital of Canada.
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Date: 2006-12-19 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-19 08:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-19 08:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 10:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 06:52 pm (UTC)