Kyle as a Half-Bear

Ok, re-reading that run-on story got me to wondering what it would look like if Kyle were actually a half-bear, half-human monster. So I used my incredible MS Paint skills to construct what I believe is a near photograph quality jpeg.

ZOMG terrifying

The photograph was taken sophomore year right before we were going to go out to a "Green Party." Hence the green. I'm not entirely sure what is going on here with Nadkarni and Kyle in this particular pose, but I'm not complaining. This is actually pretty standard as far as 4th floor South Hall shenanigans go. Kyle, I really hope that you don't ever get involved with some crazy experiment where they attempt bear-DNA splicing or something, converting you to the bear-human hybrid shown. You would be adorbs, but I'm pretty sure the only way to kill you would be with more bear-human hybrids. And then we just get into the Russian Doll situation where we don't know when to stop because we've manufactured so many bear monsters to kill the previous one that there aren't many regular human beings left. WHOSE SIDE WILL YOU BE ON IN THE GREAT BEAR-HUMAN HYBRID VS REGULAR HUMAN WAR???

You may be wondering how and when I developed such amazing MS Paint skills, as you are no doubt currently cleaning the feces out of your favorite pair of pants because you violently shat yourself when you saw the impressive, awe-inspiring brilliance of that MS Paint image. I'll tell you. It was during my internship, where one week I was so bored that I literally spent over 15 hours making a detailed portrait depicting Dodgeball House residents and other friends in a fanciful re-creation of a dodgeball game.

It is pretty small, but you can tell: this was made with love...and an internship in which I had way too much free time.

Some highlights include: me pelting Jizz Jizz in the face with a dodgeball (while he listens to music in his big goofy headphones, Chad distracting the opposing team in typical Jester fashion, Kyle about to...axe somebody? Cronin with crab claws (wtf?), Matt with the front of his t-shirt tucked in (his t-shirt expresses his love for Leon, his idol and the main protagonist of Resident Evil 4), and Nate looking so intense and angry that he may have just literally murdered the rest of the other team.

Run-On Story: an Unfinished Epic Tale by some Extremely Talented Writers

A few months ago a few friends and I got a little creative, and over email correspondence, we took turns writing paragraphs of a run-on story. It gets a little ridiculous, and there are possibly a few plot holes, but you need to grow up and learn to deal with it. Literary genius doesn't come overnight. You are born with it. Like we are. If you get lost while reading this, it is because you are a foolish simpleton who may be partially illiterate. Not because we wrote nonsensical partial-stories while bored at work. To that point, you may want to disregard most of Cronin's posts. I'm sure that not even he knows what he's doing. The mere fact that he forms complete English words in somewhat structured sentences as a result of randomly pounding on a keyboard is entirely coincidental. In fact, if you notice, the post following one of Cronin's posts is almost completely an attempt to undo or fix Cronin's previous post. I hope you enjoy this epic journey brought to you by some excellent story-tellers.

Run-On Story

Authors: Chris Severino, Jordan Thomas, Kyle Thompson-Westra, Raquel Rios, Michael Cronin

Chris-

Jordan sat by the fireplace pondering the events that took place earlier that day. He took a pensive sip of whiskey from the snifter (full to the brim) he was holding. Jordan had committed murder. This was certainly not the first time, but it would be the last. Or so he thought. Jordan quickly downed the 18 oz of bourbon whiskey he was drinking. He placed his snifter back onto the side table and picked up his revolver. He loaded a single bullet into the chamber. He decided to end it all, because there was no way he could atone for his actions earlier that day. It wasn't just murder that he had committed. It was genocide. Vehicular genocide. Jordan had killed an entire race of people with his truck. This was something that he could not ever forget. He slowly brought the gun up to his mouth. But then, he heard a knock at the door.

Jordan-

Was it a knock? He was almost sure of it. He stood up from his oversized chair and put the empty whiskey bottle down on the side table. He walked over to the door and leaned his head against it, pressing his ear against the wood. Nothing. "Hmpf", he said to himself, "Must have been hearing things." As soon as he was about to turn around and walk back to his chair, two pounding knocks at the door sent waves of adrenaline through his body. Quickly, without thinking, he unlocked the deadbolt and threw the door open. Admiral Ackbar slowly looked up at him, a lone tear formed at the corner of his enormous left eye and fell down his cheek. “IT’S A TRAP!” he yelled. With a gasp, Jordan awoke in his bed, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding out of his chest. He sighed deeply. "Just a dream. Just another Admiral Ackbar dream," he said under his breath. Cocaine and heroin residue was caked all over the bed sheets, blood stains spotted the pillow and an Xbox 360 controller was shattered on the ground but somehow still blinking mindlessly. There was an aroma filling the room…an aroma he could not quite put his finger on. He couldn’t remember anything of the night before, except for the haunting Ackbar dream that was still so fresh in his mind. A feeling of danger crept into him and he knew he had to leave. And time was running out.

Raquel-

Jordan jumped out of bed and ripped off his clothes. He ran to the dresser and put on his favorite Fighting Arlens T-shirt and dark jeans. He threw his muddy sneakers and sweaty clothes onto the bed and wrapped the blood-stained sheets around them. He'd have to burn these before he hit the road. Jordan looked out the window and realized he slept through the day. The sun was setting in the distance, and snowflakes were beginning to set on his Tacoma pickup. He could see that his front bumper was slightly dented from his last kill. But as much as he tried, Jordan could not remember who his last victim was. What would my father think if he knew, he wondered. The last time Jordan saw his dad, they were watching the sun set behind the 18th hole in a Florida resort. "It's only a matter of hours before he finds out what a monster I am," he said under his breath. Jordan packed his few belongings and burned any evidence in a trash can outside. He threw his bags in the bed of the truck, and opened the car door. "Holy shit!" Jordan's heart raced. A fully naked corpse lay on the car seat, face down. Immediately, Jordan noticed the AA tattoo on the body's right butt cheek.

Chris-

"Oh no. Not again," Jordan thought to himself. He started to roll the body over, but already know whom it was. A loud thud was heard as Michael Cronin's body hit the Tacoma's passenger floorspace. The AIDS-laced throwing knife was still lodged in his gut. "WHAT IS GOING ON?! WHAT HAVE I DONE?!" laughed Jordan. He violently kicked the body out of the truck, knowing full well that despite being unaware of how Cronin died, he knew that it had something to do with playing way too much video games and then complaining about having class the next day. Jordan wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there, so he slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The truck immediately stalled. "I really need to start remembering that I own a manual," he thought to himself. Once in gear, Jordan started down the highway (conveniently located right next to his house), hitting well over 100 mph within a matter of seconds. He had no idea where he was going. What was left of the moon after the Great Kangaroo Wars of 2016 was now in full view. Jordan started drifting off into a drug-induced nap. What seemed like an eternity later (but probably wasn't), he was jolted awake when his truck hit an enormous bump. "Fuck this shit," he thought. He got out to look, and was surprised to find Admiral Ackbar, wheezing, under his engine block. Miraculously, the 2.5 ton truck traveling at 120 mph did absolutely no damage to his fish-like body. He already knew that Jordan had no idea what had happen over the past 36 hours. Without saying a word, he grabbed Jordan's face and prepared the Mind-Meld that would instantaneously be remembered.

Kyle-

And so it was, that as soon as the Mind-Meld started, Jordan instantaneously was able to remember the Mind-Meld starting. Memory works like that, Sevs. More importantly, however, Jordan was able to remember the details of his ill-fated joy ride from the day before. The annual meeting of the Irish-American Society, constituted by the entire Irish-American population of 36million, was supposed to be a time of dark beer and sunscreen, but Jordan would have none of that. Getting his truck past the fence was the hard part. Spending the next twelve hours mowing down the likes of Fox's Conan O'Brien was easy, especially with the help of his AIDS-laced throwing knives. Suddenly, the Mind-Meld was over. "No Ackbar! I already knew about my vehicular genocide, although thank you for more details! Show me more!" But Ackbar only stared back with his enormous fish-eyes, wheezing and smacking his lips. Jordan stared back for several minutes before deciding that this wasn't going anywhere. Standing up, shaking his head in disappointment, he got back into his truck and pulled away from Admiral Ackbar. That's when he heard a moan from the back seat.

Jordan-

The voice in the backseat was familiar to him, though he could not put a face on it just yet. He was afraid to turn around. A smell permeated the truck now, something Jordan hadn't smelled since he last lived in Boston many years ago. More specifically, he had not smelled this particular aroma since he last lived on the Powderhouse Rotary at Warner Street. His eyes closed. He knew who was with him now. Suddenly the voice in the back asked him/yelled at him, in what he could only assume to be some horribly tortured form of english mixed with possibly a long lost arabic-based language, "___ ____ ___ george bush ____ (something something) Iraq ____(something something) money?!!!!11". It was him. It was Powderhouse Mike. Jordan needed a friend now more than ever, especially since the tragic loss of his 'friend' JizzJizz, the well known but not so well liked barely-legal porn trader from New England. Finding Jizz in the South dormitory at Tufts University the victim of some new form of autoerotic asphyxiation was one of the more emotionally devastating moments of his life. But had gotten over it because, again, Jizz was not so well liked. But now, Jordan was faced with the decision regarding Powderhouse Mike. He turned and looked towards the backseat, searching the eyes of PHM for some clues as to what was really going on in that brain of his. He looked deeper. Could he deal with PHM on this journey, knowing full well what was to come next as they make the long drive to what was left of Philadelphia? Did he really think this could end well? Besides the one night years ago when Jizz and PHM made love in that sort of fountain thing in the middle of the rotary, Jordan was unaware of a time when PHM was truly able to co-exist with another human for more than a 2 minute walk halfway down College Ave. But something seemed different in PHM's eyes. And something compelled Jordan to keep him with him. Perhaps PHM would have a role to play in this journey yet. He had to decide. The sun was setting.

Chris-

Jordan pondered his situation as he zipped up his vest. He had never remembered southern Ohio to be so cold, even though it was January 26, but after global warming had finally been proven false, he wasn't sure of anything anymore. Jordan slammed his hands into his pockets, hard. Not realizing he had anything in them, he pulled out a curiously shaped electrical device. It was in the shape of a hardened dong, but had strange markings that looked either arabic or from another world. A strange, violent world. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" Jordan whispered. As PHM started rambling on about some sort of angel or war, Jordan began pressing random buttons on the strange device, which he decided to call a Boner-Machine. Suddenly, PHM's random shouting was projected in clear English through the Boner-Machine. Our hero stared in disbelief as PHM told his story. "My name is Captain Alfred Zanthorp. I was the Earth's leading general in the skirmish with the Martian Crab-People. Hopefully the effects of the memory-relaxation injection I gave you are wearing off, but I'll try to bring you up to speed. You and I had to murder the Irish-American race because of their experiments with reanimation. Their CRAZY experiments. While you were wasting away in your drug-stupor, I learned that we were too late. The hateful Irish have already released their neurotoxin, the T-Cell virus, into the atmosphere. By now, most of your loved ones have turned into zombies." Jordan, was flabbergasted. He knew this day would come, but not yet. Not yet. PHM continued: "We must continue on our way to the ruins of Philadelphia. Word has it that there is a misfit band of renegades who have been preparing for this day and are holding onto a fort there. The leaders apparently traveled to find each other from the far reaches of Philly and D.C. After a night of passionate, confusing love, they forged a fighting alliance the likes of which no zombie has yet matched." His suspicions confirmed, Jordan knew what he had to do.

Jordan-

Jordan pulled out a gun and shot PHM in the back of the head as he turned and walked back towards the car, flicking the end of his cigarette into the trail of gasoline leading towards the pickup truck...

Cronin-

No, he didn't. But he thought long about it, as he followed PHM through the ruins of the old city. He thought back to the life that he had once lived, among the proud free people of his tribe. Settlers had driven his people from their land with their superior weaponry, and the desire for revenge burned deep within his soul. Before he knew it, the fires of Philadelphia loomed in the distance.

Chris-

As they drove closer to the smoldering rubble that was once Philadelphia, Jordan realized that he and PHM would have to continue on foot. The destroyed roads were covered in broken buildings and the bones of infants who were at one point patients at the local children's hospitals. The silence of the ruined city made PHM's labored breathing stand out even more. Entering a crater that had once been Independence Hall, Jordan fell to his knees, sure that the screaming and muttering of his lunatic companion would soon drive him mad. "If you don't shut up, I'm going to rape your face," ejaculated Jordan. The spit-filled scream that he assumed would be PHM's response was instead replaced by a far-off moan. Jordan was suddenly aware that PHM was nowhere to be seen. A trickle of sweat began to drench his hairy chest. With his senses heightened, Jordan was able to distinguish the sound of a skirmish nearby. He ran to look, but what he found made him want to throw up all over himself. A single zombie stooped over a limp body. PHM's blood-gargle faded to silence, and Jordan knew that he would soon be one of the undead. Unfortunately for our hero, Jordan's natural response to watching cannibalism was to violently void his bowels in the loudest possible way. The zombie, suddenly aware of Jordan's presence, began shuffling towards him. While Jordan had been a cheerleader for his high school's cross-country team, gradually picking up a few pointers on how to run while watching the athletes, he found that his legs would not move. The defecation covering his ass and legs was preventing him from escaping. Jordan was finally able to move, but immediately tripped over a massive pile of tissues. With the zombie bearing down on him and his legs all covered in feces, Jordan was sure he was doomed. Jordan entered the fetal position as the zombie made a final lunge towards its victim. Without warning, Jordan heard a gun blast, and the zombie's head was immediately vaporized into a cloud of blood spray and brain matter.

Jordan-

Jordan opened his eyes after hearing the blast and after feeling the moist zombie brain matter rain down upon him. The sun was setting in the distance and the glare made it difficult to see. He squinted into the setting sun as an object approached from the distance. As the object grew closer, Jordan knew exactly what, or rather who, it was. "Forget something?" the character growled. Suddenly the man threw something into his lap. Jordan picked up the bright orange hunters vest and smiled up at Bear, the infamous lumberjack/zombie murderer from rural Maine. Bear strung his large sniper rifle around his shoulders and reached inside his own plaid vest, pulling out a sawed-off shotgun and handing it to Jordan. "Happy NVD, asshole. You'll need this," he said. Jordan couldn't believe his eyes. He stood up and tried to brush off the zombie entrails from his clothes. He examined the shotgun in his hands, the cold steel riddled with zombie tooth marks. Bear walked past Jordan and put his right foot up on a rusty barrel, staring off into the sunset in the distance as he struck a match off the crotch of his jeans and lit an enormous pipe. "Why the fuck are you back here?" he growled, "don't you remember why you left?" "Permission to speak, Bear?" Jordan asked, as he knelt down to the ground and placed his forehead to the cement in submission. Bear looked back towards Jordan, took the pipe from his mouth, and spit on the ground in front of Jordan. "Some things will never change," he said under his breath. Just then, zombie PHM stood up from the ground, his eyes glowing red and blood covering his face. But what happened next made both Bear and Jordan shit their pants simultaneously...

Cronin-

The glowing beast spoke: "BEHOLD! I am the Ghost of Christmas Future, sent into the past to avert the end of the world! In my time, the world is ruled by a race of sentient squirrels that arose from the mutated ashes of New Vegas when the zombies started World War 8. These squirrels have subjugated mankind to the point that only breeding and embroidery is allowed. My creators were a pair of renegade scientists who (like all good scientists) have a working knowledge of engineering, biology, and theoretical physics. They sent me here to destroy the progenitor squirrel, the Allsquirrel who gave birth to the entire master race. You have two choices: you can help me in my mission, or be destroyed." Bear took a long drag from his pipe, and Jordan raised his shotgun.

Chris-

Jordan then slowly shifted his aim to Kyle. His friends fondly referred to him as "Bear" due to his genetic abnormality. While outwardly civil, Kyle had a deep, dark secret. A deep, dark, bear secret. Kyle was half bear. His mutations had become more pronounced through his mid-twenties, and at this stage in his development, he was truly a sight to behold. "Just what in the fuck do you think you're doing?" he growled. To his surprise, he uncontrollably moved towards Jordan, his massive bear-paws readying to maul the thick, purple handlebar mustache off of Jordan's face. "I...I can't move! I can't put the gun down!" Jordan stammered. At this point, Bear's snout was a foot from Jordan's face, snarling. "I can't stop either!" Instantly they both knew; PHM was controlling their minds. "He was already in a state of mental retardation before the zombification. The T-cell virus must have given him mind-control powers," Jordan announced, to no one in particular. This fact weighed heavily on Kyle's half-bear, half-human heart. He knew that both he and Jordan were about to die. His thick fur would not protect him from the shotgun blast Jordan was about to unload all over him. And Jordan would not survive the severe mauling he was about to endure. PHM, deep in concentration, didn't even see the samurai sword until it was too late. The thick steel swung down and decapitated the monster. Jordan and Bear, released from their trance, stood dumbfounded. Bear immediately took a long puff of his pipe. Out of the shadows walked an old friend. Emperor Chris Severino, with sword in hand, stood before them in all his glory. "I couldn't let you guys hog all the fun."

At this point, we all got distracted and didn't actually finish the story. The best part about this literary experiment is how the story changes so randomly from one post to another. If you'd like to add on to it with a post of your own, let me know or leave a comment or something. Let's see how insane we can get this thing.

If you watch X backwards, it's about Y

The concept of this joke certainly isn't new, but I've recently fallen in love with it and came up with a few of my own. I was strongly urged (read: threatened against my will) to post them somewhere on the interblags so that others may rofl at them. So I have a few that I've heard before and a few that I've made up:

-If you watch Jurassic Park backwards, it's about some dinosaurs who throw up a bunch of people and get into cages so they can make the coolest theme park of all time.

-If you watch The Replacements backwards, it's about a really talented, cohesive football team that starts degrading into a rag-tag group of individuals who eventually quit the sport altogether.

-If you watch Aladdin backwards, it's about a prince who loses his girlfriend and favorite lamp, eventually becoming a street rat, stealing just to survive.

-If you watch The Matrix backwards, it's about a really badass guy who starts getting worse at kung fu, so he plugs himself back into the system to revert to a boring, ordinary life.

-If you watch Rambo backwards, it's about a lone stranger who goes around a forest healing dying people with his magical bullet vacuum.

-If you watch the Ten Commandments backwards, it's about Moses finding a bunch of free Jewish people in the desert, leading them to Egypt, trapping them behind a wall of water, and then making them slaves.

-If you watch Momento backwards, it makes sense.

-If you watch Pulp Fiction backwards, it's basically the same.

-If you watch the Mighty Ducks backwards, it's about a really good pee-wee Hockey team who gradually gets worse, losing to mediocre and eventually even beginner level teams, until eventually their coach becomes so depressed that he gets a DUI for drunk driving.

-If you watch Gladiator backwards, it's about an amazing zombie gladiator winning all of his battles until eventually he becomes the lead general of the entire Roman army.

-If you watch Harry Potter backwards, it's about a a young wizard being placed with a non-magical family by the witness protection program because of a series of particularly traumatizing events.

-If you watch The Curious Case of Benjamin Button backwards, it's about the life of an ordinary guy.

Random Dreams From 2005

Here are a few gems from late 2005. I guess that would put it around sophomore year at Tufts. Anyway, enjoy yet another look into the inner workings of young Chris Severino's mind.

12/3/2005

I remember getting onto a big, weird bus with Matt Higger (a buddy from Tufts). A lot of people I knew were on this bus, and I ended up getting off at home. I called Jimmy to see if he wanted to hang out, but nobody answered. (ok, the beginning of this dream is fairly boring. Pretty unusual for me). I then decided to watch a movie for Japanese Culture class, which apparently I was taking next semester in my dream. I brought the movie home, but for some reason you had to watch it with a "movie spider." (WHAT?? WTF???? Who comes up with this shit?) You are supposed to release the spider when you are finished, but I just went to sleep, assuming it could get out of my house on its own.

12/14/2005

In South Hall (the dorm where I lived that year), I put on a helicopter helmet and glasses. I was going to hijack a helicopter so that I could take my friends to a party in Alaska. Not one of those statements makes any sense whatsoever.

12/19/2005

Kyle (my roomate that year) and I were living in a cabin that had three levels. We were constantly under the threat that lava might rise slowly, where each of us would have to get to the highest level. As Roy (that's right. I'm dreaming that I'm a character from Smash Bros. Melee and that I lived in one of the levels where lava rises to try to kill you. We played a LOT of Smash that year.), I would have to stay alive the longest to win. Then Ryan Stotland (a buddy from Tufts) and I discussed joining the tennis team. We both hated practicing, but we wanted to get better.

Later, I put some beef jerky down by the roadside, near a construction site. I waited until a construction worker came over and took a piece. Then, dressed up like a cop, I went over to him with Molly Frizzell (a friend from Tufts). I pretended to be a cop saying that he stole Molly's beef jerky. Then he bribed us and we left. Let me get this straight. My plan here was to bait construction workers with some delicious beef jerky so that when they took a piece, I would impersonate a police officer in order to elicit a bribe? Who can even think of plans like that? Let me also note that I love the fact that Molly is my partner in crime here, even in the dream-world.

Lastly, we were at some party and my Mom was giving me shots of alcohol mixed with Tabasco sauce and grapefruit juice. It was strange.

12/24/2005

I was working as a double agent, pretending to help some guy find a working piano in a big office building. I was actually infiltrating his base to kill him. So I guess his base is just a big office building...that I couldn't infiltrate without helping him find a piano....

In another dream I went to go streak the Campus Center. Chelsea was there for some reason, and I pretended I didn't know what was going on when she asked why I was naked. Then I ran back and got clothes on.

12/29/2005

Jimmy McCormack (my best friend from home) and I found one of our old home-movies: an unedited clip of us playing with fire in his backyard (how atypical of us). After some people saw this movie, we were assigned to go fight Godzilla. Jimmy had a light saber while I had a flame thrower. We had to go fight him alone in the trees while the rest of our group fought off Godzilla's zombie army. (GODZILLA'S ZOMBIE ARMY??? Are you shitting me? Can you even conceive anything more terrifying?)

Later, me and some other people were trying to escape some monsters from the movie Tremor. The only way to do it is to sacrifice yourself and then try to kill it after it gets you. I let one bite me and then threw it at the other one while everyone else jumped onto a roof. The Tremor monsters turned into Iced Tea glasses and shattered.

12/31/2005

There was a dodgeball class that I signed up for. I heard it was hard to pass, but since I started dodgeball at Tufts, I wasn't worried. When I arrived, everyone was just passing a ball to each other. Then everyone got out instruments and started playing. Half the grading for this class was bullshit instruments. I love how furious I got about how dodgeball class was graded. But seriously? Bullshit instruments? No. We play dodgeball in dodgeball class.

Later, Jizz Jizz (a buddy from Tufts) and I were looking for Kramer at Tufts, and went to some party where we got wet because it was on a boat. (I think I could have worded that sentence a bit better). We then saw a documentary on the B2 bomber, and how it is hard to hijack. Suddenly, I was transported to the B2 and I shot some hijacker in the chest. Then I blew up the engine so no one could steal it. We fell for a long time. Wait, I blew up the engine WHILE IT WAS FLYING??? Interesting choice. Also, I probably meant that I blew up the engines, not the engine.

Then we ended up going back to the dodgeball class really late (the whole situation with falling out of the sky in a destroyed B2 bomber apparently worked out just fine). Zombies chased us there. (Of course. Why not.) When we got there, only Pumpkin Face was chasing us. (hahahah, ok so Pumpkin Face is the nickname we gave to some girl at high school whose teeth had really big gaps between them, making her look like a Jack-o-Lantern. I also think she got knocked up when we were seniors? Not sure, but great memories.) Jizz Jizz and I each grabbed a pot and kept hitting her in the head. She got sad, so I fake apologized to her. Then I killed her (because she was a zombie).

Some More Crazy Dreams I've Had Recently

These are fairly recent, but are funny as hell. I don't know how my brain comes up with this stuff. It's honestly a very sobering experience reading these back to myself and trying to figure out how I can create such elaborate and fucked-up scenarios.

7/21/2010

Me and two of my friends accidentally killed someone, so we cut up the body (naturally) and buried it in a really muddy area. A cop saw that we had dug up the ground and the "trash compactor," (the machine we used to cut up the body) near a pipeline, so he told us to dig it out. We were worried that he would see the body parts, but we were able to keep them hidden to avoid getting caught. Then Paul, a senior engineer at GE, had me run some performance analysis on the mud to see how long it would be swampy for. I don't think I like the fact that my dreams somehow revert to equations and engineering analysis. I think I do enough of that in real life. Keep that shit out of my dreams.

7/29/2010

I had a ridiculously long dream similar to the movie Inception, where a bunch of us entered a dream within my original dream. The idea was that Ed Barriball, Dave Hannwacker, Ryan Jacobs (three buddies from GE) and I were on an airplane about to go to sleep. The flight attendants made us switch seats so we could sleep for longer.

When we entered the dream, it lasted for a long time. It was an island where we would stay for a week. The concept was that we all had a separate room in some apartment building and everyone in the building could steal whatever they wanted from each other. Ed, Dave, Ryan and I were all there to steal something specific, and could meet up with each other occasionally to help each other out. The first day passed without incident. On the second day, some small guy came to my door to steal stuff. I tried to lock the door, but it only locked from the outside. I was so furious that he wanted my stuff that I punched him square in the nose. More people started to show up, and I couldn't hold them all back at the doorway, so they started to steal my stuff. My friends weren't there to back me up, so they took whatever they wanted. They took some items, but I vowed to get them all back and then some throughout the week.

I went to the original small guy's room, which was a mix of Chuck E. Cheese and a huge lego playground. Also, there were really nice paintings all around the walls (not really a combination I'm used to seeing at the local Chuck E. Cheese). I stole a painting while he reluctantly allowed me, knowing full well that I would kick his ass otherwise. I went to another girl's room wearing a gorilla mask and kicked the door in. She had stolen my bacon, so I stole ALL of hers. (I am SO happy I am committing revenge crimes because of stolen bacon!) I repeated this for a few more people, stealing some random stuff and fighting an enormous goldfish-alligator in the process (wait, what??). Three girls asked me out during this whole interlude. I didn't really understand why, I guess because I was really good at thievery? I just went with it.

When we were almost done the 2nd level dream, I went through a movie theater and into a waterpark/ski-lift/maze, trying to find my way out. I woke up shortly after finding the exit and getting some popcorn. The other guys were still asleep on the airplane, but I guess we didn't find the object we were supposed to steal. Then I woke up for the tier one dream. (I've never had the dream within a dream so in-depth before. It was nuts you guys!)

8/3/2010

I'm not sure why, but I was on the Enterprise from Star Trek being chased by Wesley Snipes and some other dude. The entire dream was me going through random doors, like one after another, trying to avoid getting caught. I tried to lock the doors whenever I could, but it was a really intense chase and my dream-adrenaline was going CRAZY. At one point I hid behind a wall and punched Wesley Snipes in the face as he came around the corner. I stole his clipboard. I don't know how stealing his clipboard helped me, but I like to think it gave me some kind of advantage. Like maybe the clipboard said "People to chase: Chris Severino." I bet without that clipboard he'd be all "oh shit, I don't know who to chase anymore, guess I'll go home and eat some twizzlers." You guys, I bet Wesley Snipes fucking LOVES twizzlers.

8/9/2010

This dream started off at a big party with a lot of my Tufts friends. It was really classy, like TOP HAT classy, and I remember it being awesome and then going to the mall afterward. (I guess it was SO awesome that I don't remember anything from it, but instead remember my trip to the mall?) I went to the mall so I could go to the kitchen store to use their mixers, because I wanted to make a smoothie (ok now it makes sense. Smoothies are number one on the list of priorities). I was planning on making a smoothie out of corn on the cob. (wtf is this shit??) There were 120 steps to do to turn on the mixer, so I gave up and met up with Matt Higger (a buddy from Tufts). Together we went to an abandoned town to rid it of zombies. It was similar to a videogame that he already played, so he knew where all the good weapons were. He also had a full body suit like Ironman and a huge Gatling gun on his arm. He looked like a goddamn Gundam. He killed a huge horde of zombies with the Gatling gun. In the meantime I was using a poison dart gun to fight the zombie leader. At the end of our battle he managed to escape. To prepare for his return, Matt and I tried to teach a cat to spit darts so it could kill zombie dogs. That doesn't make as much sense as I obviously thought at the time, but I do love this idea.

8/13/2010

Sorry to end on a somber and horrific tone, but this dream was really intense and really vivid. Not as vivid as a double rainbow, but still really detailed and clear. (If you don't get the double rainbow reference, go here. Then go here for more rofls). It was one of the worst nightmares I've had in a while and I was pretty terrified. Don't worry though, I survived my own psychological labyrinth and I'm probably all the better for it. Either way, get ready to deal with what a nightmare looks like in the eyes of Chris Severino.

I had a nightmare in the theme of Silent Hill, but on an abandoned aircraft carrier, complete with "The Darkness" from the movie/video game. It started as I was pulling this old, rusty boat through a city. (I have no idea how that could possibly happen, so don't ask me. It just did, ok?) I had to angle it to fit between buildings so I could get it to an open field. I have no idea how I was pulling it, but it was damn heavy. Anyway, when I got to the field, a lot of people came on board; about 50 people including a bunch of friends. I went on and set my stuff down near the bottom of the carrier, a room where it wasn't as damp and rusty as the rest of the boat, but still fairly terrifying. I then went to one of the mid-decks where everyone was setting up to make sure it was going ok.

After a bit, I went down to the area where my bed and stuff were set up. I was getting lost around the carrier trying to find my way back and bumped into some guys trying to figure out where the food was kept. One younger guy said he'd help me find the room I was looking for. After going in and out of a bunch of doors and random paths, and up and down a few ladders, we eventually found where all the food was stored. I grabbed a few sweet tarts before we continued on to find the other room.

As we followed the paths, it started getting darker, rustier, and we both knew it was haunted (we just KNEW. I have that ability in this particular dream). We heard a noise, but it turned out to be a dog. He was a really good dog who stayed with us, so we decided to keep him because he could probably tell when there were ghosts coming or something. Then all the lights dimmed down and a really intense clanking sound started resounding along all the walls (I can't stress this enough. It was almost identical to "The Darkness" in Silent Hill. Simply a terrifying experience). All the bulkhead doors started closing as we frantically tried to find our way out of the bottom of the carrier. We saw a really menacing looking dog-animal at the end of the hallway apparate out of thin air. We booked it through one of the closing gates. We kept sprinting through a series of closing gates. I ran through one of the bulkheads and held the closing door for the other guy. The dog-monster was tearing down the hallway after us as the other dude made it through the door. I turned to get to the next door before it closed, but when I turned back I realized that the other guy suddenly decided to turn back and go through the first door. The bulkhead door closed behind him. All the bulkheads around me closed and locked. I was trapped in a tiny, dark room, but at least nothing could get in at this point. But then I heard a scraping sound coming closer from the door I had just come through. I knew it was Pyramid Head dragging his big friggn sword along the walls, coming for me.

Imagine being stalked by this guy. Terrifying.

Check out the 2:20 mark here to see almost exactly what I was going through. Except I didn't have a gun. As quickly as it came, the Darkness was over and all the bulkhead doors unlocked. It was during the day now, and sunlight came in through the doors (don't ask me how sunlight is reaching the bottom deck of an aircraft carrier). The guy who was with me was never seen again.

Update: I've been doing nothing for the past hour but watch videos of Silent Hill and Pyramid Head. They are so fucked up but I can't stop. I'm definitely going to have nightmares again tonight because of it.