tysolna: (tardis shell)
Do you know what's exceedingly good for a sore, slightly swollen throat?
Gargling with ice-cold Slivovitz.
*hic*

Started and finished a 300 page book today ("Tyranny of Distance", about Australian history and how it was influenced by geography - fascinating read); going to have to extract the quotes tomorrow, it needs to go back to the interlibrary loan desk on Friday.

Last night, I dreamt that I wanted to divorce the 9th Doctor so I could marry the 8th Doctor, but after we found desiccated Dalek mutants in a rocket in the front garden (they were of course revived by some Mad Scientist) and the 9th Doctor was almost killed in an accident involving Daleks and a model train set, I changed my mind, and he and I went off to live in a haunted house in London.
My mind is just weird.
tysolna: (doctor don't i know you)
So I had this really cool dream last night about cybermen working in a gardening centre, under the supervision of Hogwarts teacher Sprout. I was one of the people who pretended to be cybermen in order no to be assimilated, which meant that my face had to be expressionless - something made difficult by someone trying to make me laugh all the time.
Anyway, the Tenth Doctor and Rose came to the rescue, only they needed the help of the Ninth Doctor (Whee! Two Doctors!) to make everything explode magnificently and de-cyberfy the cybermen. Just in time for me to catch the bus home, in fact.
After which the Ninth Doctor had a good long talk with the Tenth Doctor about his relationship with Rose, along the lines of, "Have you told her yet? So what are you waiting for, the end of the world?"
Alas, I can't tell you how it ended, because at about that time, my cat decided to do his daily "Let me out! Let me out!" - dance.
I'm dreaming of Doctor Who plot bunnies. Oh, dear...

Dreamtime

Aug. 24th, 2006 10:37 am
tysolna: (Barbara Aztec)
Ah, work, the time of the week when I actually have enough leisure to post here. Weird, eh?

About as weird as the dream I had last night, when I found myself on a parallel Earth, accompanied by a friend. There was something subtly wrong on this parallel Earth - we first noticed it while watching the Lord of the Rings movie, and confirmed it by browsing through the book. It started similar enough, but instead of the underlying theme of friendship, and loyalty, and good vs bad, it was reduced to an army under the command of Aragorn burning and pillaging their way through Middle Earth, forcing the Gondorians to fight on their side, and enslaving the Elves.
It seemed as if things like politeness, friendship, courtesy and community were all gone from this place, replaced by egotism, "me-first"-ness and elbow power.
Further confirmation of the wrong-ness of this parallel Earth was achieved when we saw a production of Verdi's Ernani (parallel vision had one version of my friend in the audience and one on the stage), which ended with Ernani killing de Silva, among other things. Even Beatles songs on the radio sounded wrong.
This parallel Earth was a dark shadow cast sideways off of this one, and to set it right, we needed to find out the exact event which caused the split. Too bad I woke up before we found it. Still, I can hear the plot bunnies grazing.

And one of the guys in the Harold Pinter play I'm digitizing sounds like William Shatner.
tysolna: (breaking through)
Some people are saying that all I use this journal for is for fussing and moaning. Not so! It's only easier to fuss and moan and complain, people always like to do that, share the fuss, so to speak.
I could now fuss about young Paris Hilton clones on the bus home, who like to show off their appendix scars to the whole wide world - I do believe the term "chav" might be applicable here. I could fuss about the fact that a book I had intended to study is missing twelve pages; they were cut out of the book. How someone can mutilate a book such is beyond me; how someone can be spiteful enough to take a chapter away from the rest of the students dito.

However, I shall fuss about none of these things; rather, I will tell you that I did get to sleep last night after all, even if it took me some time; that I then had a very strange dream involving green goo taking over people and the crew of the Firefly (or is it Serenity?); that it is a wonderfully perfect weather outside, even though I just heard thunder and it's starting to rain; that I am getting things done again after a weekend's rest which did me a world of good; that I managed to return books without having to pay a fee; and that I met with my PhD Prof and talked to her for about an hour, with promises that will be kept in two weeks, fingers crossed.

If this day is an indication of the oncoming week, then bring it on!
tysolna: (niiimooon)
I couldn't fall asleep last night; it was probably the third cup of coffe yesterday that did it. So I started doing the mental exercises that usually end up with me asleep. No, not counting sheep, but focussing on a story, or a particular train of thought, which usually distracts my brain long enough for my body to fall asleep; the brain then has no other choice but to follow.

Anyway, I don't know why, but last night I began constructing this Doctor Who fan video to the tune of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, beginning with a picture of the Sycorax obviously. The first verse was Tenth Doctor only, the second turned into a Brigadier story, the third verse was regeneration scenes and so on. By the time the line "I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me" showed me Colin Baker scenes, I was chuckling to myself.

I think I should get the video capture card out of the old computer and install it in this one. Might be fun to dabble with video cutting again.
tysolna: (wtf?)
This morning, right before waking up, I had a frightening dream, frightening in its ordinariness. In my dream, I woke up in the flat where I used to live with my parents ten years ago, in my old room with the old, dark green furniture, my old desk full of stuff like I had just moved back in, which we actually had. I went into the kitchen where my mother was cleaning, doing dishes, unpacking things and putting them away, all the while frying small fish. All I could ask her was, why? Why had we moved back from the house we currently live in into the old flat? And the whole time, I was telling myself that I was dreaming, had to be dreaming, and would be waking up, but I couldn't, and I was convinced it was reality.
After waking up in this senior reality, in my current bed, it took me a good hour to shake off the feeling that this was the dream.

Right, that's it. No more spicy food before bedtime.
tysolna: (starhair)
Ah, yes. Did I mention it's snowing again? Mmm, what a lovely springtime!

But enough complaining. It is fun when I can open my snowed-in bedroom window, grab a handful of snow from the roof and throw snowballs at the unsuspecting outside. And this winter, I've been able to do it more often than ever before!

I just hope the weather clears up in a week, because mum and I will be driving to visit my family in the Czech Republic, and I don't much fancy driving under hazardous conditions. We'll be gone from the 18th to the 25th, and I will be taking my camera with me this time around.


While I was walking through the city, I had the feeling that somebody was watching me from the top of a ten-storey building. I don't much like being watched, so I went inside to ask why whoever it was was watching me.
Inside the building, it was dark - the lights were not working correctly; it smelled of raw concrete walls and damp. There was an elevator in the middle of the stairwell, which not only had a bright light in it, but also maroon velvet covering around the inside. Despite its appearance, it refused to take me all the way to the top, which meant that I had to climb the rest of the way over half-built steps and rickety scaffolding in the flickering lights. Occasionally, I came past a window, which gave me a beautiful view of blue skies and birds flying past. I was obviously higher up than I thought, and much higher than the building had appeared from the outside.
Finally, I arrived at the top floor and found myself in a hallway opposite an ordinary grey door, which was not even locked. The rooms behind looked lived-in, though the furniture was old and shabby and put together as if from a flea market, with the occasional antique gleaming in a corner.
Walking through the rooms, I noticed that someone was trying to get my attention. Maybe now I would find out who had been watching me.
I turned around and saw myself in a mirror.
Then I woke up.

So, friend Freud, what do you make of that, then?
tysolna: (starhair)
It's still snowing.

I'm increasingly dreaming science fiction short stories. I have noticed over the past months that my dreams are becoming less dream-like and more story-like anyway, which is possibly a side-effect. It is as if my subconscious has decided to become more literal and structured, if that makes any sense.
Anyway, I have started to jot down the more interesting dreams in a handful of words so I can remember them and make them into fully-fleshed short stories. Though sometimes, there is a detail or two which doesn't make sense upon waking. Why, for instance, would the alien in charge take it upon himself to kill the suspects? But those are details that can be found out.
The only dream I am really missing is the flying dream I used to have. The dream I am not missing is the one where I am hunted by a young T-Rex, even though the dinosaur made a reapparance a few nights ago. Luckily, I was on top of a scyscraper and was able to simply hold on to the railing and watch the destruction. Still, I didn't know T-Rexes could burrow underground.
Also, I seem to revisit places in my dreams. These aren't real places, mind you, more like dreamscapes puzzled together by the dreaming mind. But some of them reappear again and again, like the Baroque castle, sometimes with, sometimes without the museum, park and tourists, or the bookshop that has simply every book I've ever wanted to have and where there is a sale. Or the space station.
Nightmares are absent from my mind these days. Cross fingers and knock on wood.
Whatever I decided to do, or not to do, with these dream stories, they are at least entertaining and may provide seeds for role-playing games.
tysolna: (charlie)
I think the best way to combat insomnia (thanks, [livejournal.com profile] seiraryu) is to get up early, and exhaust yourself swimming.

The loudness in a swimming pool is equivalent to the amount of schoolchildren present. It is fun though to watch them take pleasure in being noisy, as long as you can submerge yourself to shut them out.

It is time for change when even your dreams start repeating themselves, and you say to yourself in your dream, hang on, I've been here before.

No matter which kind of hair dye I use, the result always turns out a very slightly greenish strawberry red. I am dissatisfied with my hair.

I found the rainbow's end today, but the ATM machine was broken.

There is a record player standing on my desk next to me, and for the first time in years, maybe even decades, I can watch the record revolving. A soothing sight, unless one starts to think about the fact that while the whole record revolves at 33 1/3 RpM, the centre is actually going faster than the outside.

There is a job I am going to apply to. Cross fingers.

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