Lucid dreams

Why is it that I can never remember the better dreams? I know I have them, occasionally - actually, quite often - I wake up in a condition that well, er, suffice to say that it leaves no doubt about the kind of dream I've been having.

Yet I never remember those.

The ones I do remember are traumatic, like last night.

I woke up at fourish from a horrible dream in which I was scrambling for a gun, to shoot at incoming zombies, yet all the zombies I could see were the zombified remains of my two dead dogs, in cages, on the balcony.

Through it all I wasn't scared at all, in fact it all felt weirdly "normal".

Then I went back to bed and eventually fell back asleep after a few minutes. And the worst of the dreams started, I suppose.

In this one, I had parked my old car in front of my mom's house, where I grew up. I then took out a shovel from the boot, dug up -I kid you not- my dead father's bones from an underground chamber, removed the brown, slithery, oily bones from what was essentially a wooden box frame, placed something in their stead, and replaced the bones on top.

I was in the process of filling the hole when my mom came out and told me I wasn't allowed to do that, to which I replied: "Do what, dig up dad, or bury the roof?" Pan the dream camera to the front porch of my mom's house where the front part of a triangular roof was resting against the cement wall.

Yep.

All true.

I'm not sure what the Freudian symbolism of all this is, I suppose in the dream I try to hide something by burying it, and that quite possibly it might be something that might have shocked my father.

On the other hand I'm glad that my dream didn't involve any unicorns.

Adventures in the daily train.

I stumbled onto this blog entry earlier today and made a mental note:

I too have been confronted by the bad manners of other commuters. I was raised mostly by my grandmother, she had what more or less would qualify as custody of me, unofficially of course, while I was growing up and she thought me manners. Now I'm in my late 30s and well mannered, I can say "please" and "thank you" and "good day" to people.

Even servants in restaurants, hotels, etc. I once even thanked a police officer after he gave me a speeding ticket. Granted, in the US. Still...

So it's always with some apprehension that I take the train, people don't have manners. Even older people. Yesterday, I arrived in my train a few minutes early, sat by a window, took out my Archos media player and started watching Dollhouse on it.

As I was relaxing a man came to sit next to me, and he took up, I kid you not, 2/3 of the double seat.

As if that wasn't enough, he then took out a laptop and placed it on top of a huge bag on his lap, which of course also meant he had to have his elbows up really high, right by my face.

As a result I sat there like an idiot, munched against the side of the train, in about 1/3 of the space this inconsiderate bastard next to me was taking up, watching my Archos screen with an elbow in my face. In retrospect I should've told him to go fuck himself, please.

Occasionally, very occasionally, a pretty girl will sit next to me. This is very, very rare. In fact, I don't remember the last time it happened.

In the morning I've condemned myself to sit across a lady that works in my office and happens to live in my neighbourhood, she's talkative and relatively pleasant but, consider that I enjoy watching my tv shows onto portable media devices in the train.

I'm not usually in the mood for chitchat with her.

On the other hand, there is a woman that takes the train in the evening and that disembarks at my station whom, I definitely wouldn't mind chitchatting with.

But that's also going to be improbable at best.

Incidentally, the red-head at the ice cream parlor gave me another free milkshake last Friday.

Also yesterday, as I was crossing the park in front of the Sun Life building with the chimes playing, a young girl in her twenties approached me and asked me what the sound was.

In a way, I was in a hurry to catch my train so I didn't want to start a conversation with her but part of me wanted to. She was cute, is that wrong?

Yesterday.

I left the office ten minutes early, I wanted to get onto the train at the Lucien L'Allier terminal because lately, by the time it gets to the first stop - my normal stop - the train is full. This forces me to stand up for 45 minutes until at least Beaconsfield and it's a no no for my knees and back.

And ankles.

And neck.

It was slightly colder than I had expected, I'm getting more sensitive to cold, I don't like it. I stopped playing hockey among other reasons because of my lower resistance to cold. I've given serious thought to moving, along with my family, closer to the equator in a warmer climate.

My wife told me that was a retarded idea on par with my threesome project.

I walked briskly by the Sun Life building on Mansfield, then across it on Rene Levesque. Although the day was overcast, the glare from the snow and ice was hurting my eyes slightly and I was toying with the idea of fishing my sunglasses from my bag when they started;

Chimes, I stopped walking.

First the chimes from the church on the corner of Peel and La Gauchetiere could be heard in the distance, I slowly started walking again, across the street from the Sun Life building, on Rene Levesque is a cathedral and I was puzzled. Unable to quite make out if it, or the other church, was the one chiming.

Then as those chimes faded, some other chimes took over, musical, more metallic, the bells were playing Yesterday, not quite what Paul and John envisioned I suppose, then upon completing the song, they launched into a more classical music, familiar yet I can't quite place it.

That was a nice moment in an otherwise dull day.

I think I'll walk by there again this afternoon if I can leave early again. We'll see.

Strange days.

I've always been one to experience weird stuff, I have vivid recollections of orbs floating around my bed when I was a child, once I even freaked out my dad. We were sleeping at a cabin in the Italian Alps. I was born in Milan and my parents used to rent a cabin up in the mountains for holidays and vacations.

This happened over thirty years ago and the memory being what it is, here goes;

I could hear a buzzing sound, similar to a fly or some other flying insect, but I associated that sound with a large green orb that was floating around in the room. I need to mention, it is pitch black.

My dad: - L. What is it, that's making that sound?
Me: - Oh, it's nothing to worry about, just that green ball floating there.

-The lights come on-

My dad is staring at me with a single round eye and brows up to the middle.

I look at him and he points out a large flying insect stating that NO, THAT is what is making the buzzing sound.

That's all I remember from that time, but I do know that the orbs stopped showing up as I got older. Eventually, with the exception of Big Bird in my bedroom, I've not spotted any creatures that didn't belong.

Orbs, goblins and clown paintings with moving eyes aside, today has been an exceedingly strange day for me.

I woke up very rested, even though last night I was up rather late, close to midnight. I had a passionate love-making session, with my wife, bestowing several orgasms (!) but strangely, unlike normal I felt energized, not sleepy. Later I couldn't sleep and I stared at the projection from our alarm clock onto the wall. Last time I saw it was 11:50PM.

I immediately found this odd, not that I couldn't sleep, I'm used to that, but the part about my wife having orgasms, yes, plural.

That almost never happens.

Usually the concentration she needs to have a single one, can be broken by a closet door left unclosed or, simply, by rubbing her shoulders the wrong way. She's always been like that, it took several years for me to figure out how to "rub her" the right way and even then, it's not consistent.

Even with a vibrator it's a hit and miss.

Even in the most romantic setting like Verona, after visiting the courtyard of Romeo And Juliet in 1996.

This morning, after waking up I prepared my breakfast, ate and used the bathroom, I hadn't shaved in two and a half days so that took a few moments longer than usual, I brushed my teeth and immediately left.

Before I knew it I was at work and lunch was upon me.

For lunch I went to Les Galeries de la Cathedrale and as dessert I had a milk shake.

The redhead that works there was finally back and I told her I had missed her last week, ordered a milk shake and she gave it to me for free.

I'm not really sure what to make of it.

I've always thought she was cute, she has long strawberry blond and red streaked hair usually braided up but sometimes she lets it loose and I can tell it's curly.

In a way she reminds me of a younger version of my wife with the exception that my wife has lovely freckles and also she was never quite as thin as the milk shake girl. I also think my wife is a few inches taller but I can't be sure because the closest I've been to Milk Shake Girl is across a five foot counter.

Still, now, more than ever I think I can talk her into having a threesome with me and my wife. That's the easy part.

The nasty part is going to be convincing my wife. Maybe I should bring it up next time she has multiple orgasms.

The Hershey Kiss.

This morning I took the train, for a change it was late by about five minutes at my station, which was soon explained by the fact that it kept stalling. It firstly died in Sainte Anne, then slightly before Montreal West, twice.

The metro was also having trouble, I suspect that raccoons got into the engines and broke them.

I got to work half an hour late, but I digress.

In the train, the air was very romantic, the wagon I sat in had no lights, nor heat.

A few stops farther, a young girl took a seat facing me, about three rows up.

She immediately huddled herself in her jacket and shut her eyes, with her arms crossed upon her chest, elbows resting on a large red duffel bag. She had dark hair tied up under her hat, perhaps in a ponytail or a chignon. Right as she closed her eyes I noticed a bunch of boys taking the seats directly behind her.

One of them discreetly set a Hershey Kiss down on the seat next to her and ducked back in his group.

She was sleeping and didn't notice the boy, nor the Hershey Kiss, I started watching a Frasier episode on my iPod, but kept on glancing up, naturally curious to see if she would notice the gift.

A few other passengers who had witnessed the scene, were all keeping tabs as well.

Eventually she woke up long enough to wrap a mesh scarf around her neck, but failed to notice the chocolate delicacy, instead she cozied down a bit farther in her jacket and pulled a hoodie over her head.

As we neared her stop she yawned, opened her eyes and stretched. Picked up the duffel bag and laced the strap over her shoulder, then spotted the Hershey Kiss.

She had a slight double-take when she first laid eyes on it, but quickly caught herself and kept cool. She got up and walked away with the boys in tow.

The Hershey Kiss remained lonely, on the seat. Perhaps someone else picked it up but as I left, it was still there.

I exited the car by the rear and completely lost sight of her and the boy. I suppose they went to the same school, perhaps taking the same class. From all appearances they were high-school seniors or first year college students.

I couldn't help but be reminded of my own courtship with my wife. At the time she also chose to ignore me, sometimes cruelly, yet, here we are.

Here we are.

The 7.10$ glass of milk.

Today I had lunch later than usual, normally my lunch at work is around 1PM. Today, because both the other guys in my team failed to tell me they were going to lunch later, I went out to lunch at close to 2PM.

So I headed down to the food court, at that time it wasn't very busy, even though it's Thursday. I decided to eat there instead of bringing it back to my desk.

I hate eating at my desk, because I'm scheduled to eat at 1PM, lots of co-workers don't realize that when they come and ask me questions for projects etc I'm actually on my lunch hour, which is of course not paid.

That is a pet peeve of mine.

At any case I was having some chicken breast and Greek salad when I noticed the pretty red-head who makes the best milkshakes in the area walking by. I've always found her attractive, partly because she is exactly my type, and partly because it's a well known fact that the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Lots of women wrongly assume the best way is through the ribcage, with a knife.

She is much younger than I am, probably in her early twenties, not that it makes a difference these days, my sister is about to marry a man who is not only one of the nicest persons I've ever known, but also about 20 years older than she is. She's never been happier.

Me neither, my wife makes me quite happy. But the sight of the milk-shake girl, who besides the fact that she has red hair, also happens to be curly -I'm a sucker for curly hair on women- reminded me that I hadn't had a milk-shake in a while.

So I decided that after my chicken was finished, I'd go walking in the interconnected malls for a while, then go for a milk-shake to bring up to my office.

I finished my meal, got up and started walking aimlessly. I was looking for a gift for my wife in occasion of our upcoming wedding anniversary/Valentine's day.

I failed to find anything interesting, at first I wanted to look at jewelry, but my wife, who is impossibly allergic to gold cannot wear earrings.

It was all triggered by a navel piercing she got after ignoring my advice telling her not to do it.

Also because of her job where she's not allowed to wear jewelry I prefer to give her something else, besides I gave her a diamond ring last year.

I walked through a couple of stores, shoes, purses, pens, perfume.

I decided that I'd get her a certificate for a massage.

I'm actually going to find someone who does that in your home, I'm sure it exists.

If not I'll just go down to MATIS and get her a gift certificate there.

On the way back up to my office I stopped at the milk-shake place and the red-head wasn't there. I suppose it was her day off. Instead there was a girl, four times her size, who for 7.10$ made me a 500ml glass of milk.

So now that I've got my wife's anniversary gift under control, I can only hope she gets me what I really want for mine: A threesome.

I think I can talk the red-head into it.

10 reasons why mass transit in Montreal sucks.

10- The douchebag that has no manners, runs everyone down, elbows his way passed old ladies and cripples while carrying a huge backpack, just so he can sit down and play NHL'07 on his laptop while on the train. This is not only rude, it is a can of whoop-ass waiting to open.

9- The annoying obese woman with the squeaky voice, the fur coat and the cell phone. All three are out of fashion.

8- People eating non-snack foods, just like the people at the movies who are having a burrito while we're all trying to watch The Boy In The Striped Pajamas, eating a full course meal in the train is heavily frowned upon.

7- Rude children who go to private prep high-schools, wear ties and suits but behave like complete asses. The parents deserve a slap on the head.

6- Gassy people, people who had garlic bread for lunch, keep burping, fall asleep on their neighbors shoulders, etc. YOU ARE IN PUBLIC.

5- The overall condition of the train/bus/metro cars. Where I live (Montreal) even the newest wagons are 5 years old, and they were rubbish even as they were being built, the doors don't close/open properly, the seats are designed for short travels and anything in excess of 20 minutes sitting down will put your ass to sleep, the windows are dirty to the point where you can barely see outside or they simply have graffiti embedded into them.

4- The scheduling. It sucks. Why is it that at the peak of rush hour we only get a metro every 5 minutes, sometimes you are standing on a pier and you have two empty metros go by the other way, stopping at the empty pier across the rails, while your side of the pier is filled with people and there is no metro in sight.

3- There is no shelter at the train stations and where they have shelter it is on the wrong side of the tracks so that in the morning when the pier is filled with people, they are forced to stand outdoors because the shelter is on the other side of the train tracks, where it is never used because that is the side used to DROP people off in the evening after work.

2- The shelters are too small, the average shelter can fit four adults, two if the obese fur coat/cell phone lady enters. There are also about eight seats available at train stops where on average 50 or more people are standing waiting for the train.

1- The trains are constantly late, and if they are not late you can bet your ass you'll run into one (or more) of the above douchebags in them.

They are late even and especially when the temperature drops below -15°C and/or it is raining/snowing heavily or there is a thunderstorm. Oddly though, they are on time on days where people don't all work, like half-staff days and the couple days before/after the Christmas holidays and the summer vacations.

If you look at their website, they have a STATE OF THE NETWORK link which of course is completely useless to us as we wait outside for an extra 50 minutes by -25°C with no Internet connections.