Archive for dreams

Dreamscape: Thug Life

Posted in Dreamscape with tags , , , , , , , , on January 22, 2009 by joelle blackstarr

female-02Scene 1:

It is late afternoon.  My love and I have arrived at our love nest.  It is a three-story brownstone, in a very seedy, run-down part of the ghetto.  Though no one says it, we sense that we should not be on the street.  We are standing beside my car, in front of the house.  The neighborhood is devoid of life except for two or three “thug lifes” standing at the dead-end of the street on which our house sits.  The dead-end is a vacant lot located at the very end of the street.  All of the houses are three-stories, but ours is about six (6) feet taller than the rest, with an open-air patio on the roof.  There is a ladder-type stairway that leads from our roof to the next.  As we look towards the thugs, they are motionless but are staring back at us.  Each of them has an automatic weapons of some type in their hand.  They are drug dealers and they number about fifteen (15) or twenty (20).  They have apparently taken control of the entire neighborhood.  No one leaves, no one enters . . . except for the two of us.  Fade to black.

Scene 2:bokeem-1

We are inside the house, on the third floor.  The scene is vague.  For some reason, the relationship between me and my love seems to be taboo.  The reason is unclear and never comes to light.  Some action takes place, but, I have no idea as to what it is.  Everything is very vague.  I decide that I can no longer bear the thought of being held captive, and decide to do something about it.  I now have some type of automatic weapon in my hand, something with a clip.  An unidentified person advises me against any sort of retaliation, as these thugs are notoriously corrupt and dangerous.  As it turns out, one of them is Bokeem Woodbine.  Fade to black.

brownstones-021Scene 3:

While, originally, the thugs numbers were few, I am up on the roof, picking them off, one by one, and they seem to keep coming.  As one is dropped to the ground, another takes his place.  I am strategically situated so that if any bullets come my way, they will miss.  My handgun has an infinite supply of ammo.  The thugs are everywhere:  on the street, on the rooftops, climbing the metal stair from the adjacent roof, and off in the distance, in the distance, in the vacant lot.  Fade to black.

Scene 4:

I am, once again, on the street.  There are about seven thugs remaining.  Four (4) of them have “assumed the position” up against the wall of our house.  Two (2) are handcuffed and seated in the back of a patrol car.  There are about four (4) or five (5) policemen on the scene, making the arrests.  The last thug is up in my face, but his gun is at his side.  My gun is pointed at his face.  I warn him that is he makes one move that I will, most assuredly, blow him away.  Fade to black.

copyright  ©  2008  freedom

“Notorious” by Rick Braun

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Dreamscape: Apocalyptic Visions

Posted in Dreamscape with tags , , , , , , on January 1, 2009 by joelle blackstarr


Through the years, I have had a number of apocalyptic dreams in which I see the world around me in devastation. I’m not so sure that I can really call all of them recurring dreams as some are altogether different – though most revolve around the same things. One of the things that is present in most of the dreams, is a practically indescribable odor. Years ago, I thought it was the smell of burning flesh. That didn’t last too long – I had no idea what burning flesh smelled like. So, I kept wondering as to what this peculiar smell could be compared. This was also when I discovered that,
at least for myself, dreams have smells. Not much of an epiphany, but, it becomes a real discovery when you add that these smells are tangible. I could touch this odor, it got all over everything and it was sticky beyond compare. Once this odor was touched, there was no getting rid of it. Just this year, a scant few months ago, I finally figured out what this totally disgusting odor was: hazelnut! I admittedly hate the smell and taste of hazelnut, but, this isn’t just subliminal suggestions – after careful thought, the despicable smell is none other than hazelnut. Below is one of my first and most recurring of apocalyptic dreams.

Scene 1:


I am walking below street-level and I can see the blue sky above. I can also see the shells of devastated homes. There are only fragments of streets and sidewalks remaining, and those few are but piles of rubble here and there. What I see below street-level are steel beams, and it looks as though the city was built upon them. Once the bombs had dropped, the intense heat stripped the beams of whatever covering they may have had. The steel was charred and, twisted. I walk for miles and miles and each step is a struggle. What minute amount of street surface is left, is in piles and heaps, making it, at best, difficult to walk. I have no destination, no direction, and seemingly no purpose for my travels. I am walking aimlessly. I see no one and there is no sound. The remaining buildings look as though they were, at some point, the center of the business district, particularly a mall of some sort. The buildings above ground that had been demolished were homes . . . in the ghetto. There was a most despicable smell in the air – the smell of hazelnut. It was everywhere, and adhered to everything it touched. Fade to black.

copyright © 2008 freedom

“In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” by Iron Butterfly

Photos from across the net. If any belong to you and you wish them removed, please advise, and I will be glad to comply.

Dreamscape: Witchy Woman

Posted in Dreamscape with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 23, 2008 by joelle blackstarr

garcelle-beauvais-testScene 1:

It is close to midnight.  I am in a backyard that is about thirty feet wide by thirty or forty feet long.  It is covered in grass, and slopes downward towards a creek that runs behind the house.  The weather is very warm and the yard is filled with people milling about and there is music in the air.  A slow dance comes on and I decide to dance with the most beautiful woman that I had ever laid eyes upon.  She is wearing an ultra-thin, ultra-sheer nightgown that reaches to her ankles.  I can see her body through the material of the gown.  The gown is tight-fitting and hugging her like a second skin, almost as if it were painted onto her body.  Before we take to the floor, her parents come up beside us and, in the thickest of island accents, her father asks “So, you’re going to take care of my daughter?” I reply “Yes”.  He lets out a most wicked laugh that resonates and echoes throughout the neighborhood.  Her mother grabs hold of his arm and the two of them disappear into the house.  The woman and I dance, slow and close.  I feel her body melting into mine.  When the dance is over, we remain embraced.  Her lips meet mine and we engage in a very long and very passionate kiss.  When the kiss is done, she lets out a long, wicked laugh, similar to the one made by her father.  I watch her as she walks away and continue watching until she disappears  Fade to black.

Scene 2:

I am in a bar that lines the back of the same house’s backyard, all the way at the back where the yard meets the creek, goth-n-skullsat the bottom of the slope.  In the portion of the bar in which I find myself, there is a long counter lined by bar stools.  Every seat is occupied.  There is a walkway that is only about three feet wide, lined on one side by the counter and bar stools, and by a floor-to-ceiling mirror on the other side.  As I pass by the mirror, I can see myself, but barely.  I am walking in one direction but my reflection is walking in the opposite direction.  It seems that I am fading away.  I am pale, almost transparent.  I walk the length of the mirror and out the door.  I come back in and walk in the other direction.  Now, I can hardly make out my reflection in the mirror.  I walk into the next room, which is actually just a foyer that leads into a third room.  In this foyer, there are mirrors on both walls.  I cannot see my reflection at all.  Fade to black.

Scene 3:

I am walking away from the house towards another street.  The music starts to fade away slowly, until, finally, it is no longer present.  A man, with whom I am vaguely familiar, is walking beside me, now.  During our conversation, he mentions that I should not have danced with the beautiful woman.  I say that it will be alright.  He notices that I am pale, and almost panics.  Somewhat calmly he exclaims “No, you didn’t!  You did not kiss her!  Do you know who she is?!” I reply that I apparently don’t.  He pulls out a Life Saver, and hands one to me.  “You’d better take one of these.  It’s probably the only thing that will save you.” I pop one into my mouth, as does he.  We walk away from the house and up a hill on the other side of the street in silence.  Fade to black.


copyright  ©  2008  freedom

“Voodoo Chile” by Jimi Hendrix

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