Class with Batman

I’m sitting in the top row of a dimly lit lecture hall. It’s not a class I’m enrolled in, but it’s a class Batman is taking, who I’m sitting next to. The professor says something, which I correct, and henceforth he spends a lot of time talking about sinusoidal curves. Specifically, how real sinusoidal signals are often shifted off center. He then proceeds to draw a few interconnected squiggles on the board, which at first I mistake for his representation of complex sinusoids, but then he explains is actually a map of a new European subway, which someone of us would ride soon. The professor then proceeds to show us a bruise he has on his neck and wrist, explaining how he got them from martial arts, most likely Judo. He asks if anyone could refer him to a doctor. Several people yell things out, but I raise my hand. Batman walks down there for some reason at the same time the professor walks up to me. I describe to him a doctor I seem to have met in a completely unrelated dream, which he keeps in mind, and tells me to “tell it to Rochelle.” I then wake up.

Batman, Oceans, and Fishies

I’m beginning to realize I dream the most when I’m not woken up in the morning by annoyingly loud sounds. That means when the grandma who lives here isn’t gossiping at a million decibels at 8 AM.

Anyway, the first stages of the dream seem to be near the ocean. There is a white sidewalk that curves like a smile near the edge of the waveless, light blue ocean. Like a scene from those Hawaiian travel brochures, with the crystal clear water. Somewhat off from the coast, sticking out like a sore thumb, is some sort of outpost with a concrete pad adjoining the water. From this pad, some friends and I dive into the ocean and swim.

The torrent of my mind seems to switch towards quite the bizarre world, in which superheroes are real. In this world Batman seems to have an alter ego. He’s a detective by day and a superhero by night. The odd thing is that the only outward difference is that by day, Batman wears and overcoat and fedora over his usual costume.

Anyway, the scene is nocturnal, next to a looming apartment complex where villainous goings-on are occurring. Batman and some sort of partner are sitting in a patrol car, Batman in his daytime overcoat, when some other officer comes towards them. Batman abandons the overcoat and fedora and goes sprinting away towards the building. “I bet you can’t catch me now!” he says, before doing a series of leaps into a fourth story window.

Through the window, into the stairwell, he immediately encounters a red jester, which he kicks back down the stairs. Going up a bit he encounters Harley Quinn, who he also takes down in a display of martial expertise. And the scene changes.

The scene seems almost Egyptian. I’m surrounded by slanted, triangular seeming buildings, and everything is in a brown hue. The courtyard I stand in features two streams, both of which have fish. I am accompanied by a female figure who I seem to have inclinations for when I end up in the river. I forget if I fell or if I am pushed, but regardless, I end up trying to swim back upstream towards my companion while simultaneously catching fish and throwing them at her. And this is where the dream ends.

Lightsabers and the Jits

The warehouse was decorated like an office building: scarce, sterile, and entirely uniform. Each office was its own separate small building separated by an outdoor hallway, not unlike a giant three dimensional tic tac toe board. I wandered through these halls, accompanied by some friends of mine.

I was in search of a lightsaber, you see, and for some reason this was a bit like an RPG reenactment dream. Eventually I left my party members behind (which consisted of Donald and the rest of the bunch), and a few offices down found a red lightsaber in an abandoned cubicle. I grab this, and add it to my inventory, before finally reuniting with my party.

We journey forth, now well armed, and we enter a somehow larger room than the others. It is well lit, with a mat in the center, and we prepare to do battle. Many random people disperse out of a door at the far end, and I take most of them down, until Linda Phi arrives. She seems to be some sort of boss character, and challenges me. We step onto the mat. Linda then transforms into Lily Fong for some reason, and attempts a Tai Otoshi on me, which I deftly step around and counter with an Ouchi Gari. I dominate on the ground for a while before finally waking up, realizing I still have really odd dreams, and wondering why I don’t post to this blog more often.

Speaking of Bad Ideas…

Starwarblocraft has become a reality.

Dan, Alan, Susie and I had just finished playing the most sophisticated round of Agricola we had ever played (which involved Dan and Susie squabbling for animals while Priester and I tried to milk the points), and we were savoring our delightfully well cooked hu tieu when the coal-powered train that was our conversation ended up on the Diablo games.

“Wouldn’t it be interesting if the Starcraft, Warcraft, and Diablo properties all occurred in the same universe?” I mused, a concept which got half sarcastic agreement among my current peers.

“It should be called STARWARBLO!” I announced after several minutes of intense, highly intellectual discussion, at which point Dan retorted, “No, it should be called starwarbloCRAFT!”

To which I could not help but agree. We thus brainstormed incidentally, as always, envisioning a community blog in which we would submit absolutely ridiculous fan fiction parodies, artwork, and other things related to the starwarblocraft property.

A day later, out of boredom, I made it happen.

www.starwarblocraft.com

And thus, once again, the general dweebiness of my friends and I has come to fruition!

Rain on a Xylophone

Winter in Southern California doesn’t bring snow, it doesn’t bring extreme cold. It’s not frigidly cold like the East Coast is, and for most of my life I thought California didn’t really have different seasons. One thing Winter does bring, though, is rain.

As I try to sleep on my sister’s couch in San Diego, the night occasionally brings with it condensation temperatures, and thus bouts of rain. I wake up when this happens because the rain smacks against the exterior of a white air conditioner not-so-subtly stuck in a window. In the relative quiet of the night, it sounds like a deafening drum, one that I must will myself to ignore in order to get decent quality shut-eye.

I think about ways to shut the noise up: maybe put a towel on the outside of it where the rain hits? Maybe bubble wrap? Where would I get bubble wrap? And I realize: if the rain can smack against an air conditioner that loudly, what would it do to a xylophone? Wouldn’t it be incredible if you could hear a true symphony of rain? Maybe a set of xylophones?

Unfortunately I do not own a xylophone, but perhaps one day…

Random Christmas Memory

I’ve decided to randomly jot down memories as good writing practice.

I was maybe seven or eight at the time, and Christmas was still the most joyous time of year. The television set, center of my lackadaisical youth life and constant object of strife amongst me and my siblings, was suddenly an object of wonder, as it was filled with portrayals of snow white winters, candy canes, christmas stockings, and wholesome family joy. We even had a Christmas tree, the same one we’d been using for a few years in a row by then, but my mom would always bring out decorations and we’d stick them on: sparkling red balls, candy canes, the colorful lights, I think we even had a star. It wasn’t the greatest thing ever, but it was ours, and the way it dominated our living room in its corner would never cease to remind me that this indeed was a special time of year. It was Christmas!

One night, I had some trouble sleeping. Perhaps I’d had too much sugar, perhaps I had been bouncing off the walls, but regardless I crawl out of bed at perhaps the late hour of 11 o’clock in the evening. The hallway is dark, but still glows with flickering luminescence. I trot out to the living room with my small feet and maybe 4 foot stature, and I see my dad sitting in the corner where our computer is. He’s playing solitaire, and because he is the coolest dad in the world he always wins! I was always proud of him; maybe one day I’d be that good at cards too! Alas, it’s been years and years, and that skill constantly eludes me.

My dad sees me and tells me to go back to bed, and as an obedient child I know I should, but my eyes set sights on the Christmas tree. The lights draped on its plastic branches, white and red and green, illuminate the whole room in a dim mix of yellow, and the tree itself dazzles as the light flickers off the glittering ornaments and reflective wrapping of the presents underneath. And as I stand there, my entire being transfixed on this glimmering beacon of holiday spirit, I hear the tune, a simple yet unforgettable tune: “Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree, how are they leaves so verdant?” There were no words, but the tune, in all its primitive low-quality electric glory, would forever be etched into my memory, and from that day forward I would always hear that tune whenever I thought of Christmas trees.

I went back to bed, of course. Eventually the tree was gone. Eventually my dad was gone. But though I’m older now, that scene has never eluded me. It’s why Christmas still has meaning to me, even though I know how commercial it all really is, even though I don’t indulge in Christmas movie marathons or eat candy canes for breakfast anymore. Although Christmas has lost some of its sparkle, its magic, when I think about that time, I still remember why Christmas is my favorite holiday.

Top of a Tower & Motorcycles

I’m apparently a student at some sort of school. The texture of the buildings and the overall theme of brick seems reminiscent of UCLA, along with the somewhat complicated hallway layout. The time of day is evening, and I’m walking with a friend outside of a building.Nearby, on campus, is some sort of parking structure, with a tall tower extension in the center with what can only be described as an observation platform, similar to what you’d find on a pirate ship.

There’s supposed to be some sort of ceremony (graduation?) going on, and all students are supposed to be witness. Instead, I decide to climb the top of the parking structure and tower. I do so alone, and from the top of the observation platform I have a majestic view of the world around. The scenery resembles orange county, with low rise buildings and a low population density. I can also see the graduation ceremony occurring. The thing is, they can also see me.

When I finally get down, an authority figure hands me a ticket of some sort, which is basically some sort of penalty similar to expulsion. I’m worried about this until I wake up and realize it was a dream. It was a pleasant dream though.

Several days later, when I’m sick, I dream about owning a motorcycle. I’m not sure what the specifics are, but after I woke up I was sad because I no longer owned a motorcycle. Therefore, I’ve declared that one day I shall own one. I’ll drive it safely, however, and avoid Bolsa Ave. at all costs.

Vampire Hotel

I’m on a bus (for some reason with my second cousin Charlie) and a few other people who I distinguish as friends, although who aren’t my friends in real life. I have the feeling we’re in Japan, but we’re apparently headed for Little Tokyo, and I’m told we’re actually in LA. We get off at the last stop, which isn’t our destination, so we take a Disneyland tram-style ride the rest of the way.

I’m not sure what the transition between this and the hotel is, but I somehow end up in a hotel. I’m in a room with a few vampires. There is one person there who I think is a friend, and has a bad complexion. I wander around, and down the hall, which is shaped like a T, my other friends occupy two rooms. We’re near the top of the building, one level down from the roof. The lights are a bit dim.

Over time I eventually notice that the friend with a bad complexion gets a clearer face. The people in a room are vampires, and they give her a certain substance that makes her more beautiful. I go upstairs to the roof and there’s a vampire girl there. She tells me something bad about the substance, but I forget what.

I go back downstairs, and visit my friends in the two rooms. I’m asking them what they think about the vampires, but they’ve been given the beautifying substance too, and decide not to take any action. I’m freaked out. As I exit the room and enter the hallway, all the lights go off. It’s entirely dark. Now I really freak out. I run down the hallway all the way to the end and rush upstairs in the pitch darkness, to the roof with the little vampire girl, who seemed nice.

On the roof I find the little vampire girl has a few bodyguards around her. I quite literally get in a fight with all of them, all of whom seem to be armed with staffs. I beat them, somehow, and there my dream ends. I wake up and realize I have to go to an ASME meeting I really don’t want to go to.

Bus in the Wrong Direction

I walk towards an intersection of some sort, and I’m supposed to be heading south. This seems to be in the same world as a few other dreams of mine set in different places in this world. I question whether I’m on the right side of the street, and can’t seem to recall what side goes north, but I settle on my side of the street, and end up entirely wrong. As I get on, only one other lady is on with me, besides the bus driver. The landscape goes over hilly terrain, and rapidly progresses from light cityscape to barren desert. I think about pulling the cord, and my hand approaches it, but I don’t really pull it; the bus driver, however, reads my intentions anyway and stops at the next stop. The next stop is the location of some sort of packaging company. I ask them if they produce as well as package, and they say yes, and bring out some of their product. Their product, as it turns out, is bottled lemonade, and I drink my fill. I become good friends with their workers, and a baby comes to me and likes me. I wake up after my two hour nap and realize I have some work to do.

Dim Mak: the death touch

So I recently downloaded a book about Dim Mak, which if you didn’t know is all about being able to kill people by touching them in a certain spot. The book says that touching the right spot is super tricky because some spots move throughout the day, and that it takes at least a few dozen years to attain this skill. You must also harden your fingers and palms by doing crazy exercises like poking trees really hard.

The craziest thing, however, is how the book says you don’t even have to touch the person, you can attack them from a distance with your magical chi powers. You have to practice that too. Basic skill comes in about two years of hard practice.

I thought to myself, “It would be really cool if I could do that! Do I have 50 years to spare to learn this stuff?”

Then I answered to myself, “No, I do not.”

I then concluded that it would be far easier to learn the most ticklish spots on the human body, and that tickling someone to death would probably be easier to learn than death touches.

I then deleted the book.

BUT DAMN IT’D BE COOL IF I COULD KILL THINGS BY POINTING AT THEM