Be Excellent To Each Other

If you shit yourself in the next few months you'll smell like shit.

So, here's my first entry into this thread, from last night.

Me, Mrs Grim... and the Grimlet were at some village fete or something, don't know. Anyhow. The Grimlet ate some mud and got really sick, and Mrs Grim... knew he was going to die, so half-buried him in a shallow grave. He was all white and moving slowly. I shook hands with him (like I do before he goes to bed, manly thanks) and said 'see you, buddy' and he said 'bay-bay'.
And then we left him there.

[edit]Oh, and then (in the dream) I came on here and posted about him being dead. I said 'parenting FAIL' or something.

Parenting FAIL.

Blimey mate. Brrr.

Grim... is now officially a stage one sleep mental. Good work!

Horrible.

Geez... that's really horrible sir! I had my first ever dream about Zioette a couple of nights ago. In my dream she could talk, but was extremely foul-mouthed and kept using the word 'fuck' multiple times in every sentence she spoke. I've been watching what I say around her ever since!

I had a dream last week that I was trying to escape Nazi Germany with a group of non-Nazi types. My workmate was there too, and only he could speak German (in real life he's Chinese). We had to get on a boat at one point and almost got rumbled by a Nazi ticket inspector.

It doesn't sound very exciting, but it felt real and I was BRICKING it.

I've been alternating lately between classic anxiety dreams (teeth falling out, naked at work, being back at school having failed to revise for an exam, those kinds of thing, often all at once) and having deeply inappropriate fantasy dreams about ladies whom I know. Which is nice.

I dreamt last night that I'd broken a bone in my hand, it was so painful but I wouldn't do anything about it. When I held my hand up to the light, you could see through it like an x-ray and the bone had snapped in half yet for some reason, I was insisting that it wasn't actually broken and it'd be fine.

The pain got worse and worse, to the point where I was taking some really strong, illegal painkillers to deal with it, which would totally knock me out when I took them and leave me in a really bad mood when I didn't. I lost my job because of it and Ramsea kept threatening me with divorce and I was so mad that everyone kept blaming my hand, despite me insisting there was nothing wrong with it. It had gone a funny colour and I didn't use it at all, it just hung limp at the end of my wrist. Then one day, my friend came round and took of out for a drive, we ended up at the hospital and I really wasn't bothered, I just walked in. The nurse put a cast on it and asked if I wanted an xbox cast, what's one of those I ask, she said it was a special type that left your index finger free so you could still use trigger....Then I woke up. I'd been lying on my hand and it was totally dead and sore, which is most likely what prompted the dream!

Had a very short, strange dream last night.

Mr Dave felt it necessary to ring me just to let me know Tomb Raider Underworld was in the sale. He seemed really excited about it, and for some reason had a girl's voice. Thanks, Dave!

S'ok. Anytime.

I had a short forum related dream this morning.

I was on the forum, but everyone was represented by small flying creatures like butterflies, and small birds etc. Malabar was a dragonfly and Mimi was some kind of bee, I remember. Anyway, everyone had to settle on a post, which was a rotted wooden fence post in an idyllic glade-like setting. It was either real or done with very good graphics. And then once everyone was on there, the choice was to post, or fly on to the next post. Post.

I choose to fly on.

By posting.

Hippy.

Thinking about it, it's probably based on playing 'Dimrill's Plank' in Burny P.

So was it a four hour sequence where the big fat butterflies (hello!) galumphed down onto the post, scattering everyone else to try again?

I had a really mundane dream about the boiler not working and Mrs Z was saying have a look at it or call someone in because the water is freezing cold before she left the house. I could then hear a grindy bubbling noise loud as hell and I thought it was going to blow. I actually shot out of bed and listened up at the loft (where the Combi boiler is) and slowly realised in my groggy state that it was the twat next door starting up his 1950s tractor at 7.45am.

Prick.

Horrible dream last night. I dreamt I was at my own funeral. Except I wasn't dead, yet.

This company specialized in 'suicide funerals'... your family and friends all gathered with you for a big celebration of your life before you were given a lethal injection and thrown into a coffin.

As the service carried on and printed photocards of events in my life were passed around I began to wonder if the whole thing was intended to convince you that your life was in fact worth living, and that they would only still kill you at the end as a last resort.

Indeed, I began to have second thoughts.

Eventually we left the little hall and made our way to the cemetary. A needle of green fluid was being prepared, and I wanted to ask if it was possible to be shot in the face several times after I was dead, to ensure I wasn't buried alive. The 'pastor' was continuing her readings and everyone was gathered, and I then noticed that Mrs Metal was nowhere to be seen. I was at first disappointed she wouldn't see me 'off' and as I began searching became more and more upset that I was leaving her behind and didn't want to.

The suicide people were getting a bit fed up "are we gonna do this or not" and I was now torn between not wanting to leave Mrs Metal a widow and not wanting to look like a fool in front of all these people who'd gathered for my funeral.

I was very distressed when I woke up.

That's harrowing

If it makes you feel better, my dream last night was me having a big mop of curly blonde hair. And someone had kicked over my wheelie bin. Bastards.

That's even more harrowing. And can you be sure it was really a dream, eh?

It was a dream, his bin was still standing.

I dreamt last night I was... somewhere... where famous pr0n stars Melissa Ashley and Andrea Spinks were doing a 'shoot'.

No sex occured, but it was rather more pleasing than lethal injections.

For years and years and years now, my dreams (or at least the ones I can remember) are either nightmares or about sex. And sometimes both at once.

When I was a kid I saw some telly program about people who could decide what to dream. I used to spend most nights lying in bed concentrating on Star Wars in the hope I'd spend the night dreaming I was an A-Wing pilot, but to no avail.

Dreams suck.

Except the sex ones. Well, the non-nightmarish sex dreams, anyway.

So you dream about sex with Craster often, then?

With disturbing lack of regularity, sadly.

So, I was in a place called Kimbolton near where I grew up, coming out of the cinema with Craster and his wife. Suddenly, a load of trucks turned up and terrorists jumped out, lining the streets. We (and all the other non-terrorist people) crowded into the shops at the side of the street. We ended up in a pub with my mate Gam from school. Then I went out and started walking around, shouting abuse.
Then I woke up.

Last night I dreamt I was in Oxford to surprise my friends*, particularly the girl I really fancy and have become really good friends with, but don't do anything about because of being confused by her and my situation.

Only it turned out a mate from another forum had left his wife to get together with her, and she said she'd only done so after concluding I was just interested in being friends and given up waiting for me to do/say something.

I got upset enough to wake up, and carried on being upset for a few minutes.

Anyone want to interpret that for me? I'm stumped.

* Not you though Mali. Our never getting round to meeting up seems to have carried over into dreams.

I woke up slightly this morning as Mrs Z was getting ready for work but immediately fell back into deep sleep.

My dream involved a day out on a train going to France and it was all very exciting, there was a real mix of people from work, old friends and even scummers from here. Unfortunately there was a problem with a train connection so I decided to stay in Poulton where we were stranded and get pissed up, markg and Baz (old friend) decided this was a splendid notion and we headed out for the nearest beer garden. We were downing what looked like glasses of lucozade that was getting us incredibly smashed and then my phone rang. A work mate who Mark and Baz didn't want around (no idea why they don't know him) was asking why we hadn't picked him up as planned. He also said he was dying to try out his new camera. I sneakily made plans to meet up with him (as for some reason I knew he had a present for me - no idea why).

I was woken up from this strangely pleasant dream by agonising cramp in my right calf.

At 9.10am.

Work started at 9.00 and was 45mins drive away.

Oops.

Indeed. I dread to think how much longer I'd have stayed in La-La Land if I hadn't been woken by pain.

Do you get normal cramp or the sort that leaves you crippled for up to two days? Mine's the latter, unfortunately.

It's normal I'd say, my calf still feels tender though.

Lucky sod.

I was having such a good day out too.

I've been having shouting dreams recently, last week I dreamt I was walking towards my house and there was a homeless man knocking at my door, so I spent what seemed to be ten minutes just hurling abuse at him. Then the next day I dreamt I was walking through a large old house screaming uncontrollably whilst throwing Munchkin cards around every room I went in before finally collapsing on the ground.

I've also been experiencing smoking dreams, dreams in which I find myself smoking a ciggie, feeling ashamed and then just thinking 'oh sod it, sod the lot of them'. Trouble is I wake up gagging for a ciggie.

What are those?

Fantasy RPG pisstake Card game by Steve Jackson. A regular favourite with me and my mates.

Guessing you haven't found the game ruining exploit then?

Bloody hell, Steve Jackson.

I'm not allowed to remember the dream I had last night.

Dreamt I got very drunk, woke up in my parents' house, couldn't remember where I'd left clothes and car. Found clothes in the bathroom, covered in blood, but I was fine. Looked in the mirror and I'd been transferred into Curiosity's body because I'd broken mine and it was dying. Was wandering the streets randomly looking for my car when I woke up.

-- HIVE MIND -- Command: Divulge -- HIVE MIND --

Before Christmas, I got cramp in the left calf one night, and the following night in the right. For the next two days I was hobbling around like I'd shit my pants.

My calf is still tender.

Mmm... veal.

You dont consider this may have had something to do with the current Scum game ? , taking over bodies / blood / rebirth

(Note i'm not saying this is your subconcious giving it away that your a baddie i'm suggesting that the ideas in the game may have leeked out into another bit of your brain :-)

I considered that, actually, and I guess it's part of it. But I think it's mostly just that I've not been sleeping properly and feel like shit, so it was just an escape dream. Though why it chose Curiosity to dump me into I don't know.

Meanwhile, my broken body was given to a homeless American black man and consequently my old body's skin colour was changing as he tried to make the unfairness of his situation known through broken, unfamiliar teeth.

I dreamt that me & the missus bought a new house, that turned out to be a penthouse flat over an old pub, only the front door was still a pub door & so loads of random people appeared wanting to go to the pub, so we invited em in for a housewarming party.
The house kept getting bigger & bigger throughout the dream, and then right at the end I noticed that almost all the windows were smashed, so I spent the last part wandering around, trying to work out how much it would cost to replace them all...

Am I mad?