Coffee, milk and whipped cream

Sat, 03 Aug 2013 07:26:28 +0000

It’s what I need after last night. It’s not that I went to bed at 2 AM after playing around with tanks in one of the most memory-greedy games on my computer (I suspect with every update it leaves stuff it doesn’t need anymore lying about). It’s not that I looked at all the courses I’ve abandoned on Coursera and got a headache.

No. It’s the fact that I had a nightmare. An honest to God scary nightmare that go me waking up and going *gulp* and then convincing myself that just didn’t happen.

I dreamed that Justin Bieber had linked to my site and I had teens pouring in in tens of thousands, messing up my site statistics forever.

…the fact that this counts as a scary nightmare somewhere in the really odd back of my mind means I really need some coffee with way too much milk and whipped cream to regain my good opinion of myself.

Steampunk apocalyptic dreams

Sat, 13 Jul 2013 08:41:19 +0000

I had this crazy, complicated dream last night. Of which I can barely remember anything, which is a problem since I can remember the plot was awesome and the settings were so perfect they could make Hollywood cry.

I’m talking about huge buildings with their walls crumbling off and their metal structures rusting in the sun. About vines taking over depopulated neighborhoods, growing impossibly green against reddish rubble, against metallic glints of bared pillars. I’m talking about clouds that throw the sky into amazing patterns of darkness and light, of shadows and sunbeams. I’m talking about factories spreading their industrial smoke over buildings and about clockwork that solves technical problems, though I couldn’t tell you how.

My apocalyptic-looking dreams take place in Bucharest, for a reason I’ve yet to determine. In a past dream, the building belonging to the University of Architecture had moved across the boulevard and had taken over a nearly empty factory – yet again with its metal side showing – which lacked windows, but did not lack the stray student spending time there overnight, working on plans in a large, echoing space with rubble in the corners.

This dream took me to the Obor Market, which I’ve visited three or four times at most in my life. Full of people, with little gypsy children playing on mounds of rubble, while merchants and buyers went their usual ways. I can’t remember what I needed, or if I needed anything at all. The city stretched on in all directions, seemingly endless. I didn’t know what came after it, but knew I was heading there, for some important reason. It had been a complicated way there and I could sense a number of things that were going to come to a close before I reached the end.

Dream on Roxana-Mălina Chirilă

Coffee, milk and whipped cream

Steampunk apocalyptic dreams