polutrope: (Default)
I dreamt about a story-telling contest. I told a story about a king whose three daughters died on three consecutive nights. They were sent to a place where a man and woman lived. The woman had a huge lower jaw, and the trick was not to mention it. The first two did, of course, and were thrown into Hell; the third didn’t. This story was applauded.
and it continues )

Guess all the story-type represented and win a prize! Aarne-Thompson numbers must be included.
polutrope: (Default)
I think my psyche is trying to tell me something (probably, fix your goddamn sleep schedule and stop sleeping during the day). In any case, having totally awesome dreams while sleeping from 11AM to 8PM is probably not the way.

First, the main character was some sort of marine animal, perhaps formed of pure blue light (?) It and its friends were set the task of moving everything on the bottom of the ocean to the top, to "remove context" as the main character's mother said. Also most of these things were cereal boxes. Then the scene switched to above the ocean (but the same people, just human now). There was a man, who was also Umberto Eco (?) and he showed the main character an underground pit that was the inspiration for something.

Somehow, the main character got the idea that the Sun god was trying to kill them. He watched a shadow play on the wall of the courtyard that told him how to get to the Sun god without getting killed, and he and his friend followed the directions. At last there was a room full of tests that had to be passed, which looked a lot like a gym. (one of the tests was multiple sets of push-ups; another was a set time on a stationary bike.) Then you had to press a button at exactly the right time (11:11, I think.) (there were a few more of these buttons but I totally forget how they came into it. It was always the same number of minutes as the hour, though [i.e. 12:12])

Finally they reached the Sun god (who was very Egyptian), and he talked about how immortality kind of sucked, and showed them a game that would save them from destruction. There were several colors, which represented wood, water, and sand. The goal was to get to the sun if you were a "warm" color and to the moon if you were a "cool" color. To do this, you had to build a raft by taking the wood piece and sending it down the waterway.

Having done this and saved themselves I guess they wandered around for a while talking about how King Arthur and Sigurd were both sun-heroes, except there wasn't much agreement; one of them thought that maybe Sigurd was weak at the new moon.

And then one of the old ladies who was the Sun god's companion scattered yellow dust over everything and told one of them (a young girl) that it would be her kingdom - Tunisia. Did I mention that this was in a sort of Darkness-before-the-world, in a night full of stars?

And then I woke up.
polutrope: (sleep is for pussies)
So evidently I had a dream last night in which Joan Sutherland sang Pirelli from Sweeney Todd. Yeah, I have no idea either.

(It was also somehow mixed up with L'elisir d'amore, which kind of makes sense because Pirelli is like Dulcamara in a way.)

((I say "evidently" because I have this thing where I remember dreams fine, it just takes me a while to realize that a. they were dreams and b. they make no goddamned sense.))
polutrope: (academia)
The other night I dreamt that I got a Cyrillic T on my Greek midterm. (And I think it took me till now to realize it was a dream. At least getting a T didn't make sense then either.) This may mean that 1) I should stop thinking about my Greek midterm; 2) I should stop thinking about Russian; or 3) I fail at life.

Speaking of Russian, I had my biweekly fail, otherwise known as the oral section of our test. The assignment was to say what you want to be and what you wanted to be when you were younger. We had this nel mezzo del second semester because you use the instrumental, even though 'become' is a copulative verb and therefore you should use the nominative after it, like in EVERY OTHER LANGUAGE. Screw you, Russian.

Anyway, I said "I don't know what I want to be, and before I didn't know what I want to be." My professor looked at me funny and repeated my sentence as a question. "Da," I replied. "Oh, nyet, professorom." He corrected my very wrong stress and said, "Yes, because our life is so great." "Well," I said, "there's not much else you can do with a degree in Classics." He shrugged and laughed. "True enough," he said.

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