Posts from Dreams. Auto-translated

Nebok, you could post your dream in the next newspaper, by the way.

Arandor said that my stories are terrible. I'm depressed and won't write anything anymore!

Your stories are wonderful! Get out of your depression and write more.

Vote against Arandor?

Vote against the lizard army.

Arandor said my stories are terrible. I'm depressed and won't write anything anymore!

Okay? And now we won't know how it all ends? (( Or is this some kind of attention-grabbing tactic? ))

Is that so? And now we won't know how it all ends?

You won't find out.

I had many dreams, but I remember one more or less clearly. I was at some kind of performance, more like a circus. True, with a twist: it was in an open space, and I have no idea who organized it; it featured some fictional characters. But I wasn't there mainly for them. I had another goal, and I specifically discussed it with the director (or was it a producer? I don't know what to call him) before it started. Basically, I wanted to see the performance of a girl I liked (who doesn't exist in real life). He said that she might not be able to perform; she was somewhere else right now, but if she made it, she would perform between some unknown performer #1 and unknown performer #2. So, performer #1 performed, and the second one was getting ready, but then I saw a familiar blue cloak with a hood, and from under it, two familiar strands of blonde hair. I won't lie, I was happy. But when I managed to see her face, I realized that it was just her sister. They looked alike, but the sister was older and had a rougher appearance. She might appeal to some people, but she had a different eye shape than her sister, and she used a lot of mascara... That's what I remember. Even though I didn't see the girl I was looking for, I had a clear idea of what she looked like: fair-skinned, short, and so on. So, I was a little disappointed and wanted to talk to the director/producer, the performers, or the sister after the performance to ask what had happened (I assumed I was familiar with each of them). But when the performances ended (I wasn't really paying attention to them)... another show started! It was as if I was suddenly in front of a TV screen where all this was happening; they showed the credits, started another show, and I was back on the set. Well, I was beyond annoyed! It wasn't entirely unexpected, but I didn't think it would happen so quickly, and I wouldn't have time to talk to anyone. Meanwhile, Rowan Atkinson (:) ) was preparing for the shoot. In my dream, he had a dark beard in addition to his dark hair (not a big one, but not just stubble). He was meticulously smoothing and combing all his hair. But then the director came up, looked at it skeptically, and messed it all up with his hands, so Atkinson looked like a mean, dirty pirate. Even his expression changed, and he looked angry, although maybe that was just because his hairstyle was ruined. Then they went to a board, like a school blackboard, and there were four physics equations written on it (actually, not equations, but some nonsense, probably pretending to be Maxwell's equations). And then, just a minute before the show started, Atkinson and the director realized that they had no idea what to do with these equations! They had barely seen them before! Their eyes widened in horror, and they looked at each other, and... the dream ended. And the moral of the story is: study electrodynamics, kids. Even if you think you'll never need it. That's it.

I dreamt that I was dead and peacefully decaying in a grave. In life, I was a mega-super cool Necromancer. How I died is unclear. But some amateur Necromancer decided to resurrect me. And he did a good job. He managed not only to raise me from the dead but also to restore my semi-decayed body. And when I appeared before him, he got scared and ran away. I didn't chase him because I was still coming to my senses, and the last memories were starting to surface. In them, I was in a basement with corpses, cutting up some woman, but a little girl, about six years old, decided to say goodbye to her mother and caught me in the act. I had to kill her. I don't remember anything else. It was all too vague and confusing, in terms of the plot.

Maybe, influenced by our short conversation yesterday, I don't know... I dreamed that we (don't ask who "we" are, I don't know either. But we) made a huge wholesale batch of various goodies. From what I remember: meatloaf and chicken (tabaka-style chicken). Well, and there were leftovers, which ended up at my place (if I'm not mistaken, they were delivered by plane). And there were quite a few leftovers; it was whole trays (huge, metal, the size of a dining table) of chicken and meat. We were set for a feast for a long time.
So, I was having a feast. I ate a couple of chicken legs and a breast. And somehow, I didn't run out of space. I take another breast and see that it's all made of some kind of small tinsel, part of the tinsel is blue, part is turquoise. For some reason, this didn't bother me, and I put this thing in my mouth, but I felt a faint smell of mold and realized that this breast had gone bad. I often have to smell things in my dreams, but this time the smell seemed to save my life, which is funny.)
I don't remember the transition (of course). I remember that I and some random acquaintance spontaneously decided to pull off the deal of the century. Another random person (not an acquaintance) approached us, and for some reason, he desperately needed an apple. And we had two! Two whole apples! Of course, this didn't quite reach the volumes in the first part of the dream, but it was still a lot. The apples were a bit rotten; he immediately rejected the first one, and agreed to the second (although it was almost eaten, and the skin was cut off on the sides with a knife, along the equator of the apple). And since the apple was very important to him, we offered him a price of 315 rubles. That's how it was. Well, he asked for a discount, and all that, saying it was too expensive. But then I applied a brilliant marketing trick. It turned out that all this time I was standing there, sipping tea from a small jar (probably 100-150 ml). And just at that moment, I finished and was about to throw the jar away. Well, and then it occurred to me, and I said: "No, we will sell you the apple for 315 rubles. But for free, completely free, we will give you this magnificent jar!" The client happily agreed. I washed the jar and put it on the table along with the apple; he put out two pencils (it turned out that they were somehow part of the deal, that is, in addition to the 315 rubles, he was also paying us with two pencils, which could not but please). The client started taking out the money, and then my partner suddenly had a strange episode. He turned to me and said, "Eight, four hundred and thirty" and started writing down the number. On his phone. I was like, "What?.." He said, "Well? Eight-four hundred and thirty?" (he writes, but not 8-430, but somehow 8-492, then quickly erases it and writes 8-493). I was completely confused. And then I woke up.

And then it struck me, and I thought: "No, we'll sell you an apple for 315 rubles. But for free, completely free, we'll give you this magnificent jar!" The client agreed with satisfaction.

One of the most effective marketing strategies is to sell something unnecessary at an inflated price, but then you get this, that, and that completely free! Perhaps this is a hint that you should try your hand at sales.

We will sell you an apple for 315 rubles. But for free, absolutely free, we will give you this magnificent jar!

:smile54:

From the Electronic Lich’s diary:

I didn’t sleep well today. I had nightmares. It wasn’t that I was scared, but rather I had an incomprehensible feeling. Some skeletons were sleeping with me in the same bed, then I ran away in horror, a car roared, saying “grandpa,” and so on. In general, I need to communicate less with old people. In fact, it’s better not to communicate at all. I’m tormented by thoughts about the inevitability of things, about the fact that I’m getting older every day, and that everything is leading to one outcome. If I don’t find a meaning in existence, I might just wither away in this apartment. It seems like there is one, but I keep dreaming about nonsense, far from what I would like to see. Some otherworldly dimensions, as if you die every day and wake up in a new one… This is nonsense. It can’t be true, but the realization of this sends shivers down my spine. It’s something irrational. The mind cannot accept this because the state of affairs does not change. That is, I am still in my dimension. This is comforting. It’s better not to torment myself with such thoughts.

I thought Liches were already dead.

It's been a long time since I had such detailed and vivid dreams. To be precise, it was on November 5, 2013.

It was some kind of incomprehensible future war. I was already not young and had a mustache. The enemy had cornered us near a large building. From the outside, it looked like a museum or a library. Two more streets adjoined the street where the building was located, one on the left and one on the right. The defense on the left had almost been broken through, and the same on the right. I was lying down, trying to shoot back at the enemy, who had taken up positions in a tall building on the right. The defense on the right was being breached; some round object (a grenade, of course) rolled towards me, and I managed to kick it back at the enemy. I shouted to my comrades that the defense had been broken and, jumping over a long stone fence, ordered a retreat to the street opposite the building. But the defense on that street had also been broken. And that was it. I and all the survivors were taken prisoner.

I was sent to some incredibly developed and modern, huge, semi-military, semi-civilian complex. With schools, hospitals, and other things. During the interrogation, I only told them that on a certain day, this complex would be completely destroyed by our air force and that they should send all civilians to bomb shelters. The soldiers didn't believe me, saying that their intelligence had no such information, that I was a liar, and that they would stomp on my kidneys with a boot. And that the warning systems and other things would warn them about enemy planes. But one officer believed me. On the day the bombing was supposed to take place, he released me, and we went to the school together. At that time, lunch was being served there. We had to fight our way through the entire cafeteria, which was full of schoolchildren. Seeing my uniform, they naturally started throwing food at me, spitting, and tripping me. And the high school girls mockingly flirted with me, asking when I had last been with a woman (I've been fighting for a long time, after all). The officer found who he was looking for (his children, of course), we left the cafeteria, he let me go, and he ran away with the children somewhere. Almost immediately after that, the bombing began. Not far from where I was standing, there was some kind of decorative structure with water and a wall. By diving, you could swim under it to the other side. The walls were already starting to collapse from the explosions. The entrance to the cafeteria was blocked (ha-ha). I decided to dive into the water. While swimming to the other side, the walls behind me completely collapsed. There was no way to go back. When I surfaced on the other side of the wall, I found collapsed walls and a small passage through which I could get out. And then I woke up.