윤

I was with a group of young Koreans, might as well have been a boy band, but as soon as we got off the elevator, we were beset by equally attractive K-pop starlets who split up my entourage, taking each member behind a different door—except for myself, of course. If you’re wondering when I’ll stop fitting into these exciting scenarios, I think the plummeting testosterone has long since had that effect even on my subconscious… what good will San Junipero be to the impotent? So it was up to me to retrieve everyone from these sinister sirens: I intruded upon the first of them about to consummate the seduction, and her beautiful face became an animal’s, grotesque elephantine features under the same hair. Back together, we sought an exit through the single Black-walled room that wasn’t equipped with only a White mattress like all the others and instead had several exits. Unlike my usual predicaments, however, this time I wasn’t alone with no recourse but to be frustrated by one path nowhere after another, and could direct my team to try them simultaneously, Alice in Borderland-style.

Despite being tired as fuck from another pathetic run earlier in the evening and unable to sleep I think, from the Dew I drank with the wholly unscientific purpose of stimulating my recovery, I woke up an hour and a half before my first meeting after a dream that a tall Black woman and skinny teenager with two handguns had home-invaded us. They weren’t particularly cautious criminals, unmasked and allowing us to move about to bring them their spoils while the former danced and her partner sat with his back to us. There were lamps and things we don’t own that I might’ve taken to his head, but would it have been enough to incapacitate him, or could I take the chance he hadn’t transferred his weapons to her without my knowledge? I continued to consider the possibilities during my transition, when even my strength and will didn’t seem sufficient to go at him with an easily-obtained knife from the kitchen.

Later that evening I’d read the synopsis of Bob Odenkirk’s new film—or did I re-read it, and subconsciously schedule my dream as a preview or reminder?

Not really sure if I can maintain any thematic consistency or segue the least bit logically this time around, but let’s see where this takes us: I had befriended a Korean teenager but somehow ended up with his Samsung-ish cellphone, which was a plot point towards the end of this series, wasn’t it, where the younger detective saves his partner from incrimination by intercepting a text message meant to lure him to the scene of an assassination. (There were some good moments, mostly early on, but I don’t think the conspiracy warranted that many episodes, much less the effort to keep it from the forgiving public.)

I sought him out to return it, but crowds began forming and a mountain of their backpacks blocked my passage in one direction. Seems his countrymen had booked Coyote Creek for an interscholastic sporting event and even set up seating along one of its walls. With all the children around, I gathered up a few of them and arranged to have them taken to a Lakers game or another local attraction by limo. The driver’s assistant requested their ages, which ranged from 5 to some in their teens, but once I got inside to confirm, the car drove off without the guest of honor, so he called up front and asked to circle back.

Frustrating outcome, as usual, but wholesome content, not like before my 1-7 break between watching the penultimate 15회 on the box and the finale live, where I was part of a resistance formed against the department management bent on reducing our numbers. I relayed our latest predicament to former co-worker Ailee as we plotted together to strengthen our resolve. The enemy crashed the secret gathering and my cohorts scattered while I deliberately turned my back to them to bear the brunt of their attention; I could see they were right behind me in my friend’s eyes. Bystanders noped any association with me by backing away, including classic Larry Trainor and his partner, a headless man in a flight uniform.

Update: Forgot to mention that when I was wading through all those students in the flood channel, I was explicitly dressed in my Uniqlo thermals, these wonderfully thick Costco socks and never any footwear, carrying my comforter as I’d expect from the new tenants. No one seemed to take notice of me.

Some time ago I thought I’d conceive work-set stories that were more to my liking than the weekly hijinx with poor management—that is, more likely to take my mind off the brutal reality of it, like identifying a co-worker as a JAV actress, suspecting another of fighting crime at night or being kidnapped and experimented on by aliens for years during a lunch break. Or from even further back, taking time off for one job-seeking adventure after another.This morning I had a dream I wandered into an office building exploring each room as I would in a FPS and finding all of the empty ones in a state of squalor, but still well-equipped enough for me to hide among them in a maintenance role. On the ground floor I came across a garage of company cars, among them a red 60’s Mustang coupe I would eventually make my escape, but not before flashing back to some of the more memorable moments from my Kramer-like tenure.

IT staff wore red polos, and once while attempting to resolve an issue for an employee named Kazuto (a woman, I was surprised to learn), the real team responded to her original request, so I had to disappear downstairs to a connected subway line and remove the stolen uniform to avoid their pursuit.

Update: I might have intentionally used the videogame analogy because The Stanley Parable had been sitting on my Desktop (behind interminable updates from the Epic Games Store, who can blame me) for so long without even a single walkthrough, and while the narrative interplay lives up to its reputation, it’s the desperate search for some sense of fulfillment—take that as you will—that reminds me how disappointing my dreams often are. Not to mention the contrived frustration behind the experience, corridors or doors that go nowhere, episodes that end abruptly and if you do find someone, you’re left to convince yourself that the fantasy is realer than the medium is capable of rendering.

It’s been a while since I had this dream, and the details might as well be on the dust accelerating my disintegration, but I had to get rid of the Stargate episode I kept bookmarked because it reminded me of the clever workaround of new portal technology that allowed travelers to go to and fro their destinations even with the requirement that someone on the other side enter at the same time. (It’s probably the introduction of the Mario-themed warp pipe to Animal Crossing that triggered this one, or the most recent use of the long-running idea that we’ll only get across the vast distances of space with tickets to the subway from our parents—though the Expanse has been great, especially the Star Blazers-like naval battles.) Dream logic logic being what it is, however, I’m no longer able to discern challenge nor solution; maybe it was finding a different volunteer back home to allow the return trip? Carter sure was a quicker thinker.

I was seated at the bar of an open food court-like restaurant, pre- or post-pandemic, and still very drowsy, rested my head on the counter. and overheard the Korean proprietress telling her co-worker about my indiscretion. Imagining it from her perspective, I couldn’t help but agree that a dirty mop head like mine against the plexiglass was hardly a sight conducive to a smart dining establishment like theirs. She brought a bowl of what appeared to be 짜장 sauce with meatballs to a lady patron and a separate one with 라면, and I knew what to order. It was then I realized that I had left my wallet on the table where I lied, but to my back; it came as quite a surprise, therefore, that no one had taken it or the crumpled-up bills strewn about while I was asleep. My mother appeared with a young lady and told me she had to make it to a movie at 11pm, so we got into her large white BMW and raced through the parking garage. The speed at which we deftly spun down the circular single lane without worry made me assume that some clever German engineering was at work. We navigated the unmarked stairwells and reached a lobby, where I grabbed an elevator and motioned them inside, but it seems that was where we were parting ways: Mom was off to the theater alone, and her attractive short-haired companion was leaving, bags packed for a long trip. I looked away as they noisily kissed as friends might.

Cooped up at home over the long weekend, praying that the old A/C doesn’t implode under the record heat, I woke late this morning to hear the others watching what must have been more Disney drivel and despite recognizing the musical flourishes and voiceovers from a latter part of the ride, lay back down to relieve the unsatisfactory emergence. There was some bickering about the playback skipping, so I found myself lifting the appliance-like disc player from the rear and looking for the right connections underneath for a two-pronged grounding cable (possibly a callback to checking the condensation pump or frayed toilet tank flapper these past few days). Results notwithstanding, my immediate attention was to prepare for a visit from John Chen on the 22nd, whose inclusion is definitely the product of our recent support of his Twitch alter-ego and went to see whether we had the arrangements to host him.

An extra room at the end of the hall, open with a bar-high counter for a wall and furnished with two twin beds in the light ash-veneer color popular in newer Taiwanese homes/Muji stores, was a giveaway that this was a dream, and I remarked as much as I walked back. A pretty young woman with short red hair, resembling Buffy-era Alyson Hannigan passed with a smile and consented to allow me to follow her to the addition to the house and make the most of it. Our interaction on the far bed was surprisingly detailed, as often they are not and merely presumed as through some disappointing narrative device: I could see the side of her face when it was pressed against mine and the shape of her body as she removed the remainder of her clothing. She told me her name was Christina (taken, perhaps, from the Lovecraft Country character), but that I called her “Linnie.” I dismounted and turned her over for re-entry, which didn’t come without the sensation of collision but was successful in the end. After returning to a reclined position, I asked her how she came to be here, and she said her roommate Hylie had invited her. It was Nicole Tan, with a curly perm, who entered and sat down next to the other bed, curiously taken up by the wife in an agreeable state. Linnie welcomed her from her knees, then closed her mouth and proceeded to call forth one last, powerful rush on my exit—but again, the feeling wasn’t all too fleeting and gave me quite a running start in the real world!

Dreamt I was at stopped an intersection in the Prius, under a freeway, which exited onto a two-lane circular ramp leading to the lane opposite me.  (I’ve not been very confident of my writing skills lately, having struggled with a paper on security that might’ve been a work of art in better times, so this description will have to do.)  Two trailer trucks came down it, and I could tell that the one on the inside was traveling faster than it should, revving its engine in race car fashion.  In the split second that it careened into the other but before tipping over, I looked to my right and saw the street empty for an escape; instead my reaction was to flick the shifter into reverse.  The large cab was already on its side and sliding at me, and my thoughts went from what damage the car might suffer on top of its current scrapes to the likelihood that I would survive this one–in that order, too, and not exclusively.  And before I could decide on backing up to avoid either, it tumbled again into the air, sailing over me and the overpass.

Or “Complement.” A popular pick-up card game that was mentioned in a dream I had, jet-lagged from returning from Asia. I tried to get more details about it, but all I saw was that a hanging shoe rack was involved.