You Have To Be Asleep...
You have to be asleep to believe in the 'American dream'.
The Morbid Joe Rogan Jackass Dream
I had the most gruesome Jackass experience last night.
It started with Joe Rogan though. Somehow I was in his JRE podcast room - though it was mobile, with large panorama windows - moving through what I assumed was his recently purchased Texas estate.
I took some photos when he wasn't looking; captured scenes from these lands most people wouldn't ever get a peek of. It felt a bit like traveling through the fields of Jurassic Park. Only no dinosaurs.
At first we swept past a long barnyard, painted red and white like they are in Sweden, something that caught me by surprise since this was not Sweden even in my dream.
The grass was universally green though, the hills and fields billowing, and what at first appeared to be a farm-related field soon stretched out like a Savannah into the distance, and we followed along down a small slope, nearing a lake and surrounding grass-covered marshland.
The initial impression faded and I'm not sure what came right after that, but it really was a beautiful place...
Next thing I know we're at a Jackass-related event. Or theme park. Or HQ. Not sure.
Warning: It gets a bit graphic after this.
There's a small cobblestone/concrete courtyard entrance where some of the crew are gathered, as well as some members I don't think really are members but apparently were in this particular dream.
There's an art-like section of the wall where cross-hatched blue wood climbs up in rectangle-like beams, and kids are crawling all over them.
It looks dangerous, and Knoxville comes up to me and asks if I can keep an eye on those kids.
I'm already just waiting for one of them to fall down, and this one kid at the very top of the beam finally does.
I manage to run in and catch him at the last moment.
It feels like the entire wall is just covered with soon-to-be Jackass wannabees - the parents standing below just watching, but they seem to assess the seriousness of the situation after this, and call down their kids. Some of them, at least.
Meanwhile there's a Jackass member smashing a glass bottle over his forehead nearby.
I don't recognize him, but he looks a bit like Steve-O and Jim Carrey as Eggman in the recent Sonic movie combined.
Moments later he's pulling his upper front teeth out of his mouth, and the blood is gushing.
It's grotesque, and even more so because he's smiling all the time. It's just a stunt, but I wonder how much blood you can really spit out before it becomes dangerous. Gets me thinking of Fight Club.
Is this really in that same somewhat harmless vein of Jackass entertainment as I'm used to? What has this become?
Soon he's getting nailed to a wall - the wall only as high as his lower back, in a way where it almost feels like his upper and lower body could get detached at any moment. He's smiling all the way though, and the crowd's cheering him on. It's the last and most grotesque stunt I remember before I wake up in a cold sweat, wondering how and why my mind would ever drift to such a dark place in the first place...
Recollections of ECW documentaries I've seen where the wrestlers intentionally prick themselves with razors come to mind, and shed so much blood during a match that sometimes they'd wipe the blood off their forehead and just a second later it'd be covered in blood again, as described by a referee in one bizarre recollection of matches that almost went too far, all for the enjoyment of their devoted fans.
There was also that one guy (was it Sabu?) who accidentally blew up his hand and walked around the dressing room squirting blood so intensely the other wrestlers just thought it was a prank. Fortunately an ambulance picked him up; he made it out of that alive.
Not to mention the table jump gone wrong where New Jack lost a part of his brain, and sight on one eye.
Don't know why these memories are all flooding back right now. I watched them a long while ago, and haven't seen anything remotely morbid in a long time... but that's the dream. Not a dream dream. Maybe it's these dystopian times that call forth the darkest memories.
I stayed in bed very deliberately daydreaming better things a few hours after this; got up way too late today. Headache blasting.
If you for any reason are now thinking about getting into that ECW documentary mentioned above I'd highly recommend you go watch some uplifting comedy instead.
Had a crazy amount of strange dreams a while back, and none of them were very much fun. Jotted down the following before I forgot them...
I was hanging around with a group of disabled people in a mental ward somewhere. We were all gathered in one large room at the top of a building, though before I reached the room I spent a large part of the dream just wandering through a long empty hallway; getting there. It was all very clinical. Hospital-like. But empty.
I accidentally bumped into one of the disabled guys at the end of the hallway, as he was somehow hiding behind a wall, or door, that I needed to bump heads with to get in. I shouldn't have had too though, as the hallway was wide and easy to maneuver, so I'm not sure how or why I bumped into him at all or felt like I had to within said dream.
In the room we met again. I talked to a few of the people there. At first I felt out of place, but the more I spoke to them the more fun I realized they were.
The guy from the hallway wanted me to help them, but I said that I'm no doctor. He started digging through drawers and bringing me things, like this heavy metal rod, which I surprisingly knew the name and purpose of, and impressed him (and myself) with my know-how thereof.
After being in the room for a while a warden/worker/caretaker came in and announced they were headed to Woodstock, which was in this alternative reality just past Stockholm, and wondered if I wanted to come with them. I'd driven there in the company minibus though (don't have a company minibus - another inconsistency of the mystery) and reluctantly said I needed to drive that back. But then I asked if they could drop me off at the station, as if that'd somehow circumvent the minibus problem? And so we were headed to Woodstock anyway. No problem.
Moments later we were in a both old and futuristic coastal down. The streets sloped downwards like in San Francisco, but the concrete structures and skyscrapers looked more like Tokyo. The streets were wide as in Latvia. A bit withered. The air a haze of pollution and the sidewalks of movement, though the stream of cars was sparse, and didn't match the sight of such a city at all.
Over the mountaintop we could see elevators moving up a slope, and impressive feats of architecture moving in their own accord. It was both impressive and dystopian somehow. The industrial yet optimistic and open milieu reminded me of Japan in the eighties, but everything was so much wider, and grander, and this entire city was built upon what seemed to be the slope of a steep mountain rather than a coast at all, leading down towards a steep drop or ravine.
We left the bus, and I lost sight of the group. I couldn't keep up. We went down a steep slope, then into an underground subway system, and suddenly we were split up.
I tried to move past people. I took a shortcut up a set of stairs instead of the escalator that ran beside it, but at the top of the stairs the ceiling swooped down, the walls went inwards, and on the dark yellow marble edges around a square hole with rounded corners there was a text that read something like: "I spy on you all the time".
No way I was crawling through that hole. I panicked. I turned back and headed down the stairs, pushing past a line of people, and I assume somewhat subconsciously shifted my dream to something somewhat more comfortable.
My girl was watching me when I woke up - in my dream, lying on her side facing me, stroking my chest. She looked a bit like Megan Fox. Said I'd had nightmares. I said she had too.
I don't know when I teleported after that, but somehow I was in @larrynachos room. He's an NG user I've spoken to before, but not recently at the time of this dream, and definitely not one I know very well.
I was still in his room though. There were lego-based letters on the window sill, though I didn't notice they were LEGO-based at first. They looked rounded, and in varying color. The l a r r y n ran in a squiggly line first, then there was something in the way, then a c h o s.
That's how I knew it was larrynachos.
Below the window sill there was a table covered with LEGO, and as I started going through the pieces I realized those title letters were LEGO too, and decided to stack them on top of each other, to make a horizontal larrynachos billboard.
It seemed like a great idea at first, and the letters changed form so they now had grooves on top of bottom that'd let you stick them together, but as I neared the end of my skyscraper they changed form again and suddenly they were just regular blocks of LEGO, and I started wondering if this was really a stable skyscraper structure after all. I accidentally broke one of the letters and the rest started crumbling. And that's when larrynachos entered the room.
Fortunately he wasn't as devastated as he could have been, and we had a good time. We talked, we built LEGO stuff, and I'm pretty sure there was something more to this particular segment of the dream but I no longer recall it.
At another point I was moving through tunnels.
I think my family was with me, or at least big brother David. As if in a game we moved from layer to layer, facing all sorts of foul monsters and flying beasts along the way. Some were parody-like, like a dungeon full of black Angry Birds that came at us with sharp claws, yet some were more grotesque, with melting floors of flesh-like texture.
I remember a lot of stages but no particular details. Don't know how we started this venture or where we left of.
I was in the woods too, up in my mother's home town, I believe, at a time and season where nobody was there, the air was cold, and the moon shone a blue light on the canvas of forestry around me. That was that. That's all I remember from that point in my dream.
And I was in a mountain house. Not sure where; not sure how, but it was a red and white cottage (traditional Swedish style) on a slope that started soft but grew to an alarming level of steepness. Our garden turned into a cliff, yet it was grass all the way, soft and rounded and seemingly safe until it just slipped away beneath your feat.
I was in the house with a few others, and we were experimenting with some form of injection. It was supposed to improve things, but it turns out it just made you crazy. We were all friends, though I didn't recognize the other people's faces at all.
The first friend laughed and killed himself. Not sure how. The second one, seeing this, tried to take the injection voluntarily. I realized they were probably under the influence even without an injection, and tried stopping him, knocking him unconscious.
It didn't work. He seemed to want to kill us as much as he wanted to kill himself, but always with a smile on his face. No regrets. No remorse. Just like the well-rounded carpet of grass that sloped off into oblivion he'd decided to move on to the next plane of existence with a smile on his face. Feel the soft grass under your feet and just slip away.
Maybe that was when I woke up and my girl was stroking my chest, telling me I'd had a nightmare. Déjà vu.
There was more, but at this point in writing it seems I've forgotten the rest.
Dreams are a fickle thing. And what do they mean? If you can make anything out of this be my guest. For once I really am curious... and a little distressed.
Over what you might find this implies in regard to my mind.