Dream Diary

Dream. All global financial markets have been hit by a computer worm called the “Be Interesting” virus.

Dream. Long debate with JD Vance about permission to fly the plane. Smoked weed with him and typed the information on the medical certificate. — I hate dreaming of people named JD

Dream. A song. “Doesn’t anyone here remember I’m alive?”

Dream. I died and was reunited with my dead uncle, Billy Joe. He was happy to see me but he couldn’t remember my name. I don’t care. The important thing is that we can be together again. I pressed my forehead against his.

Dream. “We don’t need the code. We have the code.”

Dream. My house is full of mice, snakes that eat mice, and hawks and three hawks that eat snakes.

Dream. A song. “You can take advantage of us no matter what.”

Dream. A song. “The dragon doesn’t sleep anymore.”

Dream. Everyone I know gathered to tell me that the world would be a better place if I had never been born.

Dream. Flight. Problems at the airport. That’s enough. Fly home.

Dream. I found my mother’s old cupboard. Some of the drawers still held our things, a marble, and some of her jewelry. — I woke up crying.

Dream. “I feel like I could write an important book about this, if I could just calm down.”

Dream. Lost. Weak. Locked up. Intimidated. Threatened. Late. Polite, or cowardly? Impending destruction.

Dream. “The best way to kill a cactus is to burn down the house where it grows.”

Dream. I can fly.

Dream. John Goodman would not read a book by J.D. Salinger. He said it inspired the murder of John Lennon. — God, I hate dreaming of people named John or JD

Dream. Accusation or exposure. Stupid. You should be ashamed of yourself for being such a stupid and selfish person. Negative fantasies that someone will attack you. Nobody cares about you.

Dream. Writing room, jury writing. Now that your turn is finished, take your words out of the tray, into the sink or toilet.

Dream. I saw my mother smiling while waving at me.

Dream. I’m dead. Now I am an angel.

Dream. “I wasn’t always what you see now.”

Dream. The eternal in the mortal.

Dream. A man with wooden knobs growing from his chest, and bloody stumps where his legs should be. He was rude to me about the chicken I was eating.

Dream. “Wait until I write to you.” OK, I said, I’ll do it.

Dream. “In Heaven, no one cares.”

Dream. Quarrel with my father. He became increasingly incoherent as he became angrier. He said: “I will teach you about life.” I said: “This is what life I remember felt like.” He threw many of his guns out of the house. These things are valuable, and throwing them away will damage them. I stood looking at them scattered on the sidewalk, as colorful as children’s building blocks, and shouted: “You’re trying to hurt me!” — I woke up screaming.

Dream. “Albion Fox wants a sandwich.”

Dream. Charles Manson found the Ativan I had hidden in my socks.

Dream. “You live in a tiring reality!”

Dream. A naked man is being tortured. Beaten on his genitals with a club. Feeds its own feces at the end of a flat paddle. His brain was pulled half out of his skull. His organs were removed, ground into hamburger, and pushed back into him through a hole in his sternum.

Dream. My father kicked me as I lay on the gravel driveway. But it was his talk that tormented me. I shouted: “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” – I woke up screaming.

Dream. The world’s most popular breakfast cereal is a Chinese brand called Snow Rats & Ice Rats.

Dream. “Pline,” a traditional type of ice cream, is being phased out at a beachside inn, and local residents are furious.

Dream. We all have numbers. I’m E16. Many people don’t know, or don’t believe, that I am also the author of C4.

Dream. I stood in a plastic trash can, peed, filled the trash can, soaked my socks. It was all part of a routine procedure, I told myself, unpleasant but to be tolerated. The back of my head was cut open for brain surgery. I said I hoped I could help. — Dark basement, many people kneeling in prayer. Someone said, “I am Jesus,” and soon they were all shouting, standing up, “I am Jesus, I am Jesus,” as they walked up the basement stairs and through the house.

Dream. My father threw pieces of broken machinery at me.

Dream. I heard a boy singing a song over and over to a crying girl. I went to investigate, to make sure it was just kids playing or teasing and not something more violent or strange. But I don’t see a girl anywhere. The little boy was still singing. — In the middle of the garden there is a pheasant or peacock under the glass. A candle burns under the glass. I’m worried about the bird. It could be burning, it could be suffocation when the flames use up all the oxygen, it could be fear. My Aunt Alice Carol is working in the garden. I didn’t want to violate his jurisdiction, so I started by showing him the bird situation. He said the glass container above the bird was cracked and could break if moved. He said, “Is there anyone walking on the suicide wall? I like it better than drinking.” He started running from a low, brick embankment topped by a rough concrete shelf, jumped over the embankment, lost his footing on landing, apparently on purpose, and fell and injured his elbow and knee. Now she is not my aunt, but my mother. “Oh, Johnny, why would I do that?” she said, starting to cry. I was wearing a crisp white T-shirt and I felt embarrassed for my brief hesitation to hug him because his blood would have splattered all over me. But I hugged him, and as I did, I repeated, “Damn, damn, damn.” And now: a boy singing a song over and over to a crying girl.

Dream. A giant stag called Old Newton. The wolf with very long legs is called the Cross of Lucifer.

Dream. A song. “Everyone wants to be friends with me. Everyone wants to feed off my energy.”

Dream. Answering machine messages from my mother. “I was worried about you. Why did you stand there like that for fifty-two hours?” When I visited her in person, I was surprised to learn that my mother was the First Lady.

Dream. “I don’t want to fight with you. You’re just a kid, like me. All I want is to eat in the cafeteria. Why does everyone want me to act like an adult? I’m seven years old.”

Dream. A black stallion, rearing at the top of the hill. Eagle, drive. A tiger. When I saw the stallion, I knelt down with my face in my hands, crying. I want to share my vision with someone.

Dream. Asked my parents not to be angry with me. “Shut up,” my mother said. “You slept on stage last night,” my father said.

Dream. “I checked my lethargy.”

Dream. Lightning struck my parents’ house and burned it down.

Dream. Hell, unleashed on earth.

Dream. Arguing with my father, suddenly I was attacked by a bear.

Dream. “Rats do all the things that rats do, and if a rat doesn’t do those things, it’s not a rat.”

Dream. “Here comes the mighty interceptor.”

Dream. I was grilling hot dogs for my mom, my Mamaw, and my dad, and a hamburger for myself. My mother and Mamaw took their dog and dishes and went into the house. My father also brought his dog, but stood there with my plate in his hand. He told me to put my burger on my plate. “It’s not over yet,” I said. He gets angry. “Put it on there right now,” he ordered me. “No,” I said. He acts hurt. “Nobody said no YouJohnny,” he said. I said, “That’s because I ask for things that are possible and exist.” He became prophetic. “My hope for you,” he said, “is that one day you will realize how much trouble you have caused us all.” I said, “My hope for you is that you find happiness. My hope for myself is that you do not try to punish and haunt my future by casting terrifying and vengeful curses on me.”

Dream. All Miss America pageant contestants must enroll in a secret Peloton group codenamed “Chainsaw.”

Dream. “Don’t say I’m stained.”

Dream. Meg Ryan whispered to me, “Let’s have sex.” I’M RYAN is an anagram of I’M ANGRY And MY ANGER. – And GERMAN. — ANAGRAM is an anagram of CONTINUE

Dream. I fell into a deep hole full of alligators. For more than two weeks, I was not saved. The alligator didn’t eat me, but I screamed until I went crazy with fear. When after fifteen days I was finally pulled out of the hole, not only could I not stop screaming but I myself began to turn into a crocodile.

Dream. Insect religion. Insects experience reincarnation and can remember their entire past lives, and the burden of these memories is painful for them. In their religion, they pray null regressionback to zero, empty, resetting the odometer, permission to become nothing.

Dream. A brilliantly colored view. Forests, rocky dirt roads, flying, deserts and sand dunes, ice fields, psychedelic colors and textures. I really want other people to see what I see.

Dream. My father shouted at me. “You are three years old,” I told him. I held up three fingers, for him to count.

Dream. A man announces that a science fiction movie set is an elaborate mask for a real alien invasion. He was impaled on the purple-blue lightning fork, screaming, burning, screaming Oh Lord, eyes burning, groaning unseen, lying smoldering in the parking lot, not yet dead. His ordeal is a lesson for others who might investigate him.

Dream. A song. “Tears in my eyes, my hands were covered in blood.”

Dream. The greatest ping-pong game in history.

Dream. “Reducing the atmosphere of government.”

Dream. I don’t believe anything happened. I keep stopping people to ask: “Is this the real world?” They all treated me like I was crazy. They pushed me, or forced me, to doubt myself. But that’s not the real world: I’m asleep. When I woke up, I felt vindicated.

Dream. I ran so fast that I could fly.

Dream. My father is better than me in everything.

Dream. My father tried to strangle me to death. I turned into a cigar cutter and I cut it in half. Sometimes a cigar cutter is just a cigar cutter. — A black goat comes out of the forest. He said to me: “Did you just kill my father?”

Dream. “Less mystique, more biscuit.”

Dream. I died and went to hell. Hell is a giant, boring greenish-grey dome. When I was alive, everyone tried to convince me that hell was full of exciting torments. Living people are so stupid.

 

JD Daniels is the 2016 Whiting Award winner and Paris ReviewTerry Southern Prize 2013. The Collection Correspondence published in 2017. Her writing has appeared in Paris Review,Dear sir, n+1and elsewhere, incl Best American Essays and Best American Travel Writing.

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Gaming center adalah sebuah tempat atau fasilitas yang menyediakan berbagai perangkat dan layanan untuk bermain video game, baik di PC, konsol, maupun mesin arcade. Gaming center ini bisa dikunjungi oleh siapa saja yang ingin bermain game secara individu atau bersama teman-teman. Beberapa gaming center juga sering digunakan sebagai lokasi turnamen game atau esports.