On the subject of Amarok, I had to downgrade Xine in order to play my FLAC music files today. I guess an update some time ago messed it up. The downgraded .deb can be found in this Ubuntu forum post.
Anyways, I got so annoyed with Hetfield that I switched to my old metal standby Mordbid Angel. This was between 9:00 and 10:30PM, so it was getting late. I knew I shouldn’t have been listening to that scary music at night, but I did anyways. I finally went to bed, but I woke up from a most freakish dream at about 1:30AM. I couldn’t get back to sleep and I was annoying Lori, so I got up and wrote the following:
Can one dream drive us mad? Can a dream reveal the truth?
My soul mate, she was there next to me, on top of me, interacting with me. There were indiscribable feelings that we don’t feel with our eyes open. Pain in places we don’t have, like a plug had come loose from its socket and someone was pushing it back in, but missing the socket. Then suddenly it was gone, and I was a awake in bed, next to her.
How could she be in both places? If the dream was revealing the next layer, how can she be there too? Is that how I knew she was the one when I saw her? Are we together even in the next layer?
The cold has made her breating heavy, labored, and her clogged sinuses were creating a whistle. I could SEE the code in her nose whistle. Did the loose cable allow me to see what is underneath everything, what is above our existance?
Bits and pieces of functions, curly braces, variables. It looked like C. But I wasn’t reading it. The code was happening moments before I could see it, in her nose whistle. It was creating what was happening in my dream. The sounds and voices in the next layer were text in the code.
How can text be in a nose whistle? I don’t know, it just was. Like my senses got mixed up, my wires crossed. Like the audio was being sent on the video feed. Crazy stuff.
In the next dream we were lying together on a dirty mattress on the floor in a dingy room. Dust everywhere. A small dirty window in the bare wood walls let in light from outside. It was like light from a city at night. But my eyes weren’t open. I could hear voices and sounds of movement, maybe in the neighboring apartment through the flimsy walls. I could see the words in the nosewhistle code before I could hear them through the walls.
I saw her, but she was different, skinnier, too skinny, almost emaciated. Then she was top of me, but with with her back to me, and her hand reached back behind me and her thumb started digging into my back. Jabbing hard, like she was trying to stick it into me. So hard, how could it not bleed? How could her delicate thumb be so hard, it felt almost like the hard metal end of a coaxial cable, digging into my back. I try to adjust my position but the pain gets worse. Then it is gone, and I am awake, and the code is gone.
I sit up and she awakens next to me. “I’m freaking out,†I tell her as I try to untangle from the blankets. She rolls over and hugs me close.
“Go back to sleep, it’s just a dream.†She says.
I consider it, but then I start looking around and wonder if she is in on it. Like the wife in that Jim Carey movie where he’s living in a fake world. I push her away, scared.
“I’ll get the trusth from your nose whistle,†I tell her.
She rolls over and goes back to sleep. I listen to her breathing. It’s just a whistling noise, no code.
Geez, I knew the music would give me nightmares. It had before, which is why I stopped listening to it. Back then, Cthulu had come for me from a black rift in the dark clouds while I was playing chess alone on a barrel in the middle of Cass Street. That was a dozen years ago, so you can tell how scary it was because I have remembered it for so long.
I got up and went downstairs, still freaking out. “This was too damn Matrix. It made no sense,†i tried to tell myself. I picked up my laptop to jot it down before I forgot it. The laptop had crashed. Linux, crashed, nothing on the screen. Just what I needed to keep my paranoia burning. Was it “Them†trying to keep from remembering?
I rebooted and the dog cames in. She sat next to me and stared at me, swaying slightly. Her eyes looked too big, too knowing, too deep. She didn’t paw at me, so I petted her. Same old Tara.
The laptop booted up and I typed all of this in. I looked it over and decided to print it before I went back to bed. They can’t get at the hard copy, can they?
Freakish, eh? The Ancient Ones always punish me for probing their domain. Time to lay off the Lovecraft for a while …
PS: Dave at work just informed me that it is Friday the 13th. Spooooky!
