What is your favorite... yawn...

[Anteni]

I was thinking about all the cliches: colors, pets, foods, bands, porn stars (), cartoons, sitcoms, and all those other wonderful things that "Western" culture offers us.

Then I thought of a much more interesting, in-depth topic, which may or may not have been brought up on this board yet:

What is your favorite dream?

You could interpret that a few ways, but I'll let you answer how you feel. You could describe an actual dream that you had while sleeping or dazing into space, or you could tell us about a personal ambition and hope that you have had, or whatever else comes to mind when you think of the word "dream."

Given this topic, some of my posts, and the words of my signature, I must strike some of you as a far-out-there kinda kid, hm?

[Arvis]

porn stars (),

That might have to do with my favorite dream....

[Chidori Draconid]

My favorite dream? Hmmm.
Well it starts with this girl... I'll stop right there.

[Olivia Oeland]

my favorite dream has to be this one i had about two years ago, and yes i still remmeber it. So i'm traveling with this group of people men woman children, old people, everyone. I don't know why we're traveling but we are, and we go to this huge house because it's a hide out . So after we all go inside and explore eveyrone star chilling out and having a barbecue. I am on lookout on the roof and spot this guy with a gun coming into the back yard, so i tell everyone to hide. and most people listen to me, some are dumb and don't. Mainly the men, they want to try to stop the gun man. I specifically tell them to get into the closet and some do , and i'm trying to shove the rest in but it's too packed and this guy gets shot in the hall way and the gunman comes at us, and all the guys try to break out, so i say " screw it" let the guys file out of the closet and get massacred. Then out of no where, i take a plastic butter knife( the kind with the edges) and i totally knife the gunman. what kinda creeped me out was that i swore i felt the friction of the knife and the skin on his neck when i killed him. (eww grosss!) The dream ends with me flying away from the backyard, the other people yelling after me , and i have a hair cut like catherine zeta jones from Chicago...

[Damion Shargath]

The Prehistory

Beginning of this year I suffered a sever injury during snowboarding. I dislocated my spine and had half of an aorta dissection. I had fallen flat on my back after losing control on a poorlyshaped snowpark kicker and flying 6-7 meters (19-22 feet) into the air. The moment I noticed that I had taken the misfigurement too fast was as I was already rushing up the curve of the kicker, which almost had the shape of a quarterpipe, as an instinctive reaction I tried to break - stalling my board against the snow abeam (as you usually due to break) - and trying that on a kicker was a bad idea, although logical thoughts were secondary during that moment.

After lifting into the air, a second later, I noticed that there was no way to regain control. Everything began to pass by in slow motion, I admired the landscape - well knowing it could possibly be the last time I would see such beauty. The mountains around me, the clouds, everything seemed so blurry and clear at the same time. It was astonishing, a collage of images I couldn't define flashed in the back of my head. I took deep breaths, slowly beginning to cast aside the thoughts of observation, and instead braced for the impact that was to come - all the while I muttered "In a second, it will hurt...".

Suddenly, with an indescribably loud thud I hit the compact snow below. My head thrashed against the piste. I didn't feel a thing. My eyes shot wide open at, I knew that feeling not a single sting of pain was a terribly bad thing. I spastically began to twitch every part of my body, hoping only that not a single joint would disobey my order to move. I was lucky, probably the most lucky creature on earth that very second. I propped myself into a sitting position, and began to spit blood for the next fifteen minutes. Not a single person cared to help me, apart from a person who had asked me if I was alright. In a vexed manner I had looked back at him, spat a wad of blood before his feet, grinned, and replied "Just fine!". With an "Alright then, later." The idiot took off.

I remembered that my friends had driven off around the next bend and were probably waiting for me. Still incapable of feeling any sort of pain, thanks to my rather abnormal pain tolerance (guess where I got that from...yeah...it'll kill me one day, but I've grown to love it) I lifted myself to my feet and rode downwards. Congregating with my friends again, I sat down for a five minutes and spat thinned blood - it had begun to lose color - it was becoming orange, mixing and thinning with my saliva (fuck knows where it actually begant to bleed to inside my body). I mentioned that I had fallen, and that I would rather take a break and eat something. We rode down the mountain and I sat down to have a beer and a typical austrian dish, Kaasnocken. My favorite dish not to mention. An hour later, after I had constantly been saying "It will get better, just a bruise. I can ride again in a second." I could not stand anymore. I told my friends to keep riding, my father would pick them up from the mountain later. After they had left I called my father, told him briefly what had happened, and that he should please pick me up. He came as fast as possible and took me home, a painful procedure, my entire back was throbbing with pain by now.

To shorten a boring day of trying to find a comfortable position to lay in, I fainted at the dinner table later that evening. I just barely managed to push aside the food before my head crashed unto the massive wooden table of my fathers dining room.

I was taken to a clinic for accident cases, it was too late at night for them to lawfully x-ray me I was told - we had to drive to a hospital 30 minutes away. I could have bled to death by now, I consider myself lucky.

Having reached the hospital, a painful procedure of uncomprehending "please sit on this. Turn this way. Now please walk over there...ok fine we'll get your wheel chair again. Lay down here, on your back please." Followed. They discovered no internal bleeding via supersonics. Only my slightly dislocated spine which would pop back once the bruising goes back. A week later, after returning to my mother in Germany I received a letter stating: "Dear Mr. Moser, Via the computer topographic records we have noticed, and can declare that the internal bleedings originate from a half dissected aorta." What followed was incomprehendable doctor wish-wash. I could have bled to death, and the fools would have not known why until I would have been dissected.



Now to the dream...

A couple of weeks ago I had a dream of a similar occasion. I had followed my friends off a massive kicker. For some reason I had lost control again, but in midair, I had managed to regain control of my flight, body, and board - I landed successfully. As I woke up that morning, I had a satisfied smile on my face - I remembered my dream and had a wonderful day. I will never forget that dream, though even without it I couldn't have waited for the next winter season since snowboarding is simply my biggest and most important passion.




EDIT: BTW, pretty cool dream Olivia.

[Ashiakin]

It started off as me having to help Ludacris win a drag race. But then somehow the drag race turned into a space race that mixed my own imagination with moments and characters from the movie Apollo 13. So basically Kathleen Quinlan was worried her husband wouldn't make it back to earth from the race safely and she tried to sex me up in the bathroom (can you saw ew?) But the next morning she turned into a pair of hot lesbians, so it was cool.

Oh, there was also this cool/strange one I had where I had to save this town because its water supply had been poisoned. For some reason it involved me having to complete an obstable course in an almost-abandoned Sears. Like, I had to jump from refridgerator to couch to riding lawn mower without touching the ground, or I would die. But then all of a sudden, one of the store clerks started chasing me. She was a very large African American woman and she kept screaming at me that she loved me. I tried to escape her, but eventually she caught me and I had to have dinner with her at my grandmother's house.

PS -- I obviously think literal dreams are way cooler than hopes and aspirations.