the dream I had last night
Apr. 2nd, 2003 04:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rushthatspeaksAs usual these days, I woke up at 6:00 AM or so, and frantically beat myself over the head in an attempt to get back to sleep in my remaining two hours. For the first time since I started waking up at that ungodly hour, I managed it, and this is what I dreamed.
I was attending Harvard, but Harvard had somehow been moved to New York City and was in the location presently occupied by the Met. It combined the functions of museum and university, so it was about six times the size of the Met, even more confusingly laid out, full of random people, and had professors' offices and classrooms tucked under various stairwells and otherwise hidden. I had to go see Professor Scott, who was my advisor (which, in what passes for my real life, he is), but when I found the place that was said to be his office, I discovered that the biology department had taken it over and was using it to breed spiders the size of cats. Fortunately, they were all in cages, so they only wriggled nauseatingly after I opened the door, and I screamed, backed out, and slammed the door without being anything other than very badly startled. I then started wandering around looking for his new office; there had to be one, right? I ran into a roving tribe of graduate students in the Byzantine Art Wing, who, although not of my department, were friendly to me and gave me food. They were encamped for the night already and offered me a place to stay, but I explained that I had to get to Professor Scott's office. Their leader, a short, dark-haired woman, looked very grave as she asked me if I was really sure I had to do this and if I knew what I was getting into; evidently Professor Scott had relocated to an office that got much better sunlight, but, because it got so much sunlight, he was unaware of the reasons no students ever seemed to come and see him anymore: the Thing That Lived In The Darkness Under The Stairs. I would have to pass by this Thing, somehow, and hope it didn't notice me. No one was entirely sure what would happen if it did notice me, but very few of his advisees ever returned. They joined together in blessing me and doing the rituals of magical protection that they hoped would assist me in the dangers that lay ahead. I thought about turning back, but I had to get my work plan signed or I wouldn't be able to take any classes next semester.
I won't go into the long and frightening process of sneaking by the Thing. It was a genuinely nasty Thing, all right; the dream was a full-fledged nightmare in this part. I got by eventually and got to Scott's office, where he signed my paperwork. We chatted for a while, and then I became alarmed to see that the sun was setting. He said that for some reason unbeknownst to him, his advisees had a tendency to leave his office by climbing out the window. I wondered why they didn't come in by the window in the first place, but decided it was probably a better idea than braving the Thing again with darkness so near, so I climbed out, and found myself outside the glass walls of the room containing the Temple of Dendur, which meant that Professor Scott's office had to be in the Frank Lloyd Wright room, and that I would have a long and weary walk back to the Rotunda and civilization. I started to circle round, and suddenly heard the ferocious howls of a pack of New York city buses. As I drew my sword (all graduate students carry them) and prepared for a desperate last stand, I realized that no student entered Scott's office by the window because no student who left by it had ever returned to tell his other advisees where the window was from the outside. I was beginning to swing my sword at the lights of the first oncoming bus when the dream dissolved and I began to wake up; as I started to come back to consciousness, I thought to myself 'Idiot! You have two major advisors! Why didn't you just go see McDonogh?' And the answer that percolated through my brain as I finally sat up in bed was 'Because he would have eaten my soul.'
I then proceeded to sit there for about ten minutes muttering over and over again 'The hell? What the hell?', until I narrated the dream to my roommate, who summed up the matter very succinctly: 'Wow, your brain is fucked.' The rest of today has seemed vaguely surreal, though nothing particularly odd has happened.
Every so often I simply have dreams like this. I thought other people might be interested by this one, though. Wow, my subconscious is fucked.
I was attending Harvard, but Harvard had somehow been moved to New York City and was in the location presently occupied by the Met. It combined the functions of museum and university, so it was about six times the size of the Met, even more confusingly laid out, full of random people, and had professors' offices and classrooms tucked under various stairwells and otherwise hidden. I had to go see Professor Scott, who was my advisor (which, in what passes for my real life, he is), but when I found the place that was said to be his office, I discovered that the biology department had taken it over and was using it to breed spiders the size of cats. Fortunately, they were all in cages, so they only wriggled nauseatingly after I opened the door, and I screamed, backed out, and slammed the door without being anything other than very badly startled. I then started wandering around looking for his new office; there had to be one, right? I ran into a roving tribe of graduate students in the Byzantine Art Wing, who, although not of my department, were friendly to me and gave me food. They were encamped for the night already and offered me a place to stay, but I explained that I had to get to Professor Scott's office. Their leader, a short, dark-haired woman, looked very grave as she asked me if I was really sure I had to do this and if I knew what I was getting into; evidently Professor Scott had relocated to an office that got much better sunlight, but, because it got so much sunlight, he was unaware of the reasons no students ever seemed to come and see him anymore: the Thing That Lived In The Darkness Under The Stairs. I would have to pass by this Thing, somehow, and hope it didn't notice me. No one was entirely sure what would happen if it did notice me, but very few of his advisees ever returned. They joined together in blessing me and doing the rituals of magical protection that they hoped would assist me in the dangers that lay ahead. I thought about turning back, but I had to get my work plan signed or I wouldn't be able to take any classes next semester.
I won't go into the long and frightening process of sneaking by the Thing. It was a genuinely nasty Thing, all right; the dream was a full-fledged nightmare in this part. I got by eventually and got to Scott's office, where he signed my paperwork. We chatted for a while, and then I became alarmed to see that the sun was setting. He said that for some reason unbeknownst to him, his advisees had a tendency to leave his office by climbing out the window. I wondered why they didn't come in by the window in the first place, but decided it was probably a better idea than braving the Thing again with darkness so near, so I climbed out, and found myself outside the glass walls of the room containing the Temple of Dendur, which meant that Professor Scott's office had to be in the Frank Lloyd Wright room, and that I would have a long and weary walk back to the Rotunda and civilization. I started to circle round, and suddenly heard the ferocious howls of a pack of New York city buses. As I drew my sword (all graduate students carry them) and prepared for a desperate last stand, I realized that no student entered Scott's office by the window because no student who left by it had ever returned to tell his other advisees where the window was from the outside. I was beginning to swing my sword at the lights of the first oncoming bus when the dream dissolved and I began to wake up; as I started to come back to consciousness, I thought to myself 'Idiot! You have two major advisors! Why didn't you just go see McDonogh?' And the answer that percolated through my brain as I finally sat up in bed was 'Because he would have eaten my soul.'
I then proceeded to sit there for about ten minutes muttering over and over again 'The hell? What the hell?', until I narrated the dream to my roommate, who summed up the matter very succinctly: 'Wow, your brain is fucked.' The rest of today has seemed vaguely surreal, though nothing particularly odd has happened.
Every so often I simply have dreams like this. I thought other people might be interested by this one, though. Wow, my subconscious is fucked.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-04-02 09:24 am (UTC)I love you. I love you. I LOVE your brain. I am sorry about the nightmarish bits of this, and the fact that it undoubtedly wasn't funny at the time, but that is still the absolute best dream I have heard in a LONG time.
Of COURSE all graduate students carry swords. It makes perfect sense.
Love.
RUth.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-02 01:19 pm (UTC)All my heart,
Lila
no subject
Date: 2003-04-02 09:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-02 10:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-02 12:14 pm (UTC)Seriously. This dream would make a kick ass story. Probably a young adult novella. Thanks for posting it... but I'm not kidding. That needs something done with it.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-02 12:28 pm (UTC)Mostly 'cause I'm trying really hard not to think about the fact that McDonogh really does eat your soul.
I really want to draw the lost tribe of Graduate Students wandering around in the Byzantine Art Wing.
They could periodically have contests with the students of the Arms and Armor section to determine who was first in line for the special exhibits, the coffee, and the bathrooms.
no subject
Date: 2005-03-19 04:05 pm (UTC)