crippocrates

[crippocrates]

Source: clur19 on Threads

[crippocrates]

I’m trying to sleep, but can’t, because I’m constantly thinking of last night’s dreams. I have the flu, and when I’m sick my dreams sometimes get even more intense than before (probably because I need more sleep and am sometimes feverish).

There were some more normal dreams first. Taking a boat to my cousins’ cottage on an island (exists in real life). My dad taking me to my first derby practice of the season, but instead of skating it was just walking in a half a meter of snow and I left because my freshly healed ankle can’t take that much yet (ankle healing in real life). But after that the dreams start to go off the rails.

I’m in a small cottage, which serves as a library. Somebody is gatekeeping something, but I don’t know what. There’s me and some other people, but I have no idea who they are. The library contains books of a spesific topic or theme. We want different books. We knock down a wall, and find that the library is much larger than we had originally thought. We move some books around and make the space cozy. Everyone is happier now.

There’s also a loft now. I take the stairs/ladder up to the loft. It looks like a teenager’s room. I sit on an office chair by a table, and look at all the things on the table. The owner of the room speaks to me; I am not frightened by her presence. I know she’s there, even if I can’t see her. She is dead. She tells me she can’t get rid of any of her stuff, not yet anyway. I look into a little purple dome, it looks like a crystal ball. It contains cosmetics of some kind, like a half-used bath bomb. The spirit tells me she can’t throw it away, because it was her favourite, and it reminds her mother of her.

I am somewhere else now. It’s my childhood home, in a way. My cousin (who in real life is now 25 years old) is a little kid. He had taken one of my energy drinks out of the fridge and started to drink it. I tell him he shouldn’t be drinking that, and we should get him something else (more age-approppriate). We go to the fridge, and I get him a small blue lemonade. It’s actually my other cousin’s, his sister’s, but we promise to get her some more to replace what we drink. I ask him if he likes the blue lemonade. ”It’s bad”, he says, ”I’ve never drank anything so bad in my short fat life.” I think that’s very funny, because he is about ten years old and has never been ”fat”. I tell him he doesn’t have to drink it if he doesn’t like it.

I find myself in a building of white marble. It’s a public building of some sort, a museum, a church or a historical location. It feels both mundane and very official. I’m there with two friends (not from real life). We look at the architecture. There’s a ramp that leads to a moving platform or boat. The platform is then moved forward on horizontal logs. In the end of the path of the platform there’s a black spiral staircase leading down, out of our view. There’s a guide there who explains how it’s all such beautiful and important process.

We exit the white marble hall, and enter a very sterile-looking facility. I instantly recognize it as a morgue, and joke to my friends how this would just be another workday for me if I had my dream job (which is accurate, I want to work as a mortician in the future). We walk through the room with small metal lockers lining the walls, and go through the next door.

The current room is a stark contrast to the last one: it’s musty, dusty and dark. You can make up some shapes in the poorly lit room. It’s like a lobby to an old hotel, only if it was built inside a cave or an ancient tomb. There are ”people” sitting around small café tables, but they are not really people. They’re people-sized taxidermied humanoid bats. Everything is frozen in place, no movement at all. I know it’s not because they can’t move.

I hurry outside through the next door, which was our only light source in the creepy lobby room. But my friends are nowhere to be seen. Something must be wrong, so I quickly (and making zero eye-contact with the dusty bat people) retrace my steps back into the marble hall. When I get there, my two friends have entered the platform/boat, overjoyed. The guide we met before is telling everyone with special orange-ish red leather shirts to join them. My friends are wearing those shirts, I am not, and I know it’s not for me. I back away from the platform. The guide looks a lot like Caitlin Doughty (who is a real-life idol of mine). She preaches about how at their destination something wonderful will happen, freedom, power, new life.

People with the red shirts are getting on the boat. Their family-members are there to send them off, as it’s a joyous occasion. I see a mother with a child, who have come to see their husband/dad get on the platform. There’s also a big, awful man there. He tries to kill me, I think by stabbing. I don’t die, but I fall on the ground and pretend to be dead. The awful man laughs and licks my face. ”Well that was gross”, I think, and try to find my bearings again. The platform is now moving and instead of stopping at the black spiral staircase, it lifts off to the sky like a magic carpet. It is red and now shaped a bit like an open book.

I chase the guide and I find her outside next to a paved flower planter. It’s still winter, but the snow is beginning to melt. I attack her, I start to strangle her. How dare she make a fallacy of something so sacred, something so important and infinite? How dare she sacrifice all those people, who just wanted to be saved? How could she in good conscience even try emulate something she has no actual knowledge of? Before I can kill her, someone stops me.

There’s people gathered behind large windows that face the yard. The guide won’t stand up, she just stays there on the ground. I go to the people behind the glass. One of the windows is an opening door, and I enter the white hallway. All of the people are naked. I can’t remember talking to them much. I just know what we need to do now.

The naked people are all also animals, or can turn into animals. They turn into animals that are the colour of their own hair. I must now lead these people to their sacred metaphysical home. I turn into a red owl (my hair is red-ish brown), and fly to a strong pine branch. It is spring now.

I fly high in the sky, above water. I see the book-like red platform approaching a transparent dome. There is a central dome with an opening on top, and four smaller domes around it. The people are dropped into the central dome, where they sink into a whirlpool of water, and are then sorted into the smaller domes. The domes and the surrounding water are full of naked people. They are all dead, drowned in the whirlpool. The guide’s plan to make herself the metaphysical leader of the people and artificially recreate the circle of life, death and rebirth, has permanently failed. My red wings are the only ones to carry the people to the place beyond.

Additional notes: I know my dreams are usually pretty wild, but hey it’s not every night you get to beat up the leader of a death cult (very similar to Heaven’s Gate, don’t you think?) and then find out your destiny as a psychopomp. I might need to make some Hieronymus Bosch-esque art about this dream, it plagues my mind. Let’s see if I get more extra weird ones during this flu.

[crippocrates]

[crippocrates]

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i so deeply understand the reasoning of every comment

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on their clit like morse code

[crippocrates]

Dream journal

I’m not sure what the beginning point was. I think I was on a road trip with my family. We were in a car, at least. Things got hazy. Sometimes I was driving, sometimes sitting in the front passenger seat. I was also trying to find the Shrek musical for my little sister to watch, but she kept finding different ones and I needed to convince her it’s not the one she wants.

We were also in a bookstore at some point, where a friend of mine was buying a huge tome of a book, something Lotr or GoT related. Apparently this was not the only book in the series, and he thought his collection would have been complete with this one.

Next we were in an alternative/goth clothing store I wanted to go to. My mom wondered why the walls were painted in such offensively bright colours, and I told her it used to be a party supply store. I saw so much good stuff, but wanted to buy a Winnie the Pooh -themed souvenir coffee mug. There were several different designs. Can’t remember if I settled on anything. I remember critiquing the way there’s baby versions of all characters in a franchise (muppet babies, winnie the pooh -characters as babies… etc) and my dad agreed it’s weird and for babies. One of the mugs reminded me of one my mom has at home.

I don’t quite remember how we got to the next point. It was both a story and something happening in real life. I was in a big ballroom surrounded by people. We were all standing in a circle, except a couple of women stood in the middle. Everyone was wearing big ballgowns or penguin suits with coattails. I remember seeing mainly women, though. The story was that the ball was arranged for the women in the middle of the circle to step into power. They were evil. They wanted us to play a game where we sing a song about a wolf getting their prey, and in the end some people have to switch places or smth. I saw both the story version and the real world version of this unfolding simultaneously. In the story the circle was doing a spell, in real life we sang the wolf song. But also, in the story the evil usurpers get caught in the spell circle, people pointing beams of light at them. In the real world, people suddenly made the circle smaller, and pulled out their swords and daggers on the women. It was over.

We were still in the palace that the ball was held. Me and my sister were royalty, sitting in a room adjacent to the ballroom. I was wearing a gown in lavender, my sister in green. We were told a visitor is seeking an audience. A tall, brown-haired man with glasses was let into the room. He had a kind face. He knelt before me, and I held his extended hand. He wanted to pass on a greeting from his family, and a personal gift from himself. He passed me a note with three condoms attached. I burst into laughter. This was very amusing to me, the contrast between formal greetings and then being presented with three plastic-wrapped condoms in a note. I thought this was certainly a funny guy, and wondered if he was single. (This is off-putting to me in real life since I’m very much a lesbian.) We talked something about age, and turns out he thought I was too old at 27. To which I responded ”well I have a sister, she’s 23.” 😂

We were still in the palace/manor. Suddenly I hear my mom is giving birth. I stayed out of the general area they had arranged for her to give birth, but went in soon after it was all over. First I saw just a normal baby, swaddled. Baby looked a lot like my sister. After a while, the baby was presented to me as seven mini-babies, attached to each other with a string so they wouldn’t get lost. I was baffled. How could my mom have been carrying seven babies at once? Maybe that was why they were so tiny? They were also more like tiny dolls than babies. Unfortunately one of them broke and then there were six.

My cousins from my dad’s side of the family were in the house now as well. We were having trouble trying to find enough red wine glasses for everyone. We played some video games, but I had no idea how to play. It was something with cartoon characters.

In the end we all packed up for a roadtrip again. It was hectic. But I think we managed to get everyone in the car in the end.

[crippocrates]

It is still sooooooo fucking funny that tumblr, the "fuck that old man" website, the villain apologist website, AND the paranormal boyfriend website read Dracula and went "Count Dracula sucks, we hate this dude." Planetary alignment levels of unlikely.

[crippocrates]

The public idea of ”what kids are supposed to do” has also changed with the coming of smart technology. IPads are bad babysitters, because it’s the most stimulating and dopamine-rich thing the child has ever seen. Anything less stimulating isn’t going to be enough anymore, they don’t know how to be bored, que tantrum.

I grew up in the early 2000s with undiagnosed AuDHD, and the amount of stimulation I could get my hands on living in the countryside was very variable. Books and drawing/painting were my iPad, they were the best way to get constant good-feel-flow to my brain. The difference is, it was more socially acceptable to read a book for hours than stare at an iPad for the same time. But because books are not usually overstimulating, being without one didn’t cause withdrawal symptoms. When I got older we got a PlayStation 2, and I could play that for hours on end.

Now that I’m an adult, it’s hard to get into that same reading-flow I got as a kid. My phone has ruined my ability to focus if I’m not actively processing the information I’m reading (underlining, looking for something, analyzing…). I feel sorry for the future adults that are today’s iPad kids. It’s not their fault, and their parents should know better.

what ppl defending kids on ipads don’t seem to understand is that there are other ways to keep kids occupied. my mom had a whole bag full of little toys and games for me to play with while waiting in lines at disney world. once your kid is like 7 or 8 they can read a book. they can color. or they can literally just sit there and imagine things. i did that a lot as a kid.

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Theyre called draculas because they drank u. La

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What’s the fastest way to learn astral projection I want out of this physical body stat

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do you think that a certain genre of queer person is so obsessively weird about pride flag discourse becuase their flags fill the gaping hole in their personality where a hogwarts house used to be

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This is (A) hilarious, and (B) perfect for adapting to a science fiction setting. 

Sneaking onboard an alien ship?  Send in Stabby the Roomba first.

[crippocrates]

for some reason, "you can just do an art project" unlocked a realization that "you can just make art" wasn't able to access.

like yeah i know i can set aside an afternoon and sketch a still life.

but also i can, like. select a random marine creature from a hat and then research them and then spend a bit of time in the evenings and weekends over the course of a few weeks making a diorama.

or i can make an abstract sculpture out of scrap cardboard and masking tape, and then paper mache over it, and then paint it.

or i can draw something with markers and color it in with crayons.

i dunno why it took me so long to realize that, in the same way that i can revisit the games and hobbies that i enjoyed as a kid, and i can orchestrate "presentation parties" so my friends and i can flex our slideshow animation skills, i can also Make Art, Grade School Style (and not just Grownup Art/School Style)

[crippocrates]

in my restless dreams i see that shit

[crippocrates]

this is a kind of niche positivity post but shoutout to disabled butches. you're not less butch because you can't do certain things. you're not less butch because you know your limits. you're not less butch because of your mobility aid. you're not less butch if you have a caretaker. you're not less butch.

[crippocrates]

when i talk shit about golfing, please know that none of it is about mini golf. it could never be about her. she's done nothing wrong in her entire life. god's perfect little putt putt.