How Do I Create Dream Characters?
I figured since this is a blog mainly about dreaming, I’d post some choice articles that explain things. And rather than start from the beginning, I’m going to jump right into
Creating Dream Characters.
This article, by Charlie, is in question and answer format. I encourage you to check out the rest of The World of Dreaming Blog as well!
Peace and sweet dreams,
Dreamloaf
December 18th, 2010 by dreamloaf | No Comments »My favorite cookies
CHOCOLATE OATMEAL NO-BAKE COOKIES
2 cups sugar
1/2 cup cocoa
1 stick butter
1/2 cup milk
1 tsp. vanilla
3 cups quick-cooking oatmeal
1/2 cup peanut butter
~Combine sugar, cocoa, butter and milk in a saucepan.
~On medium heat, bring to a boil for one full minute.
~Remove from heat.
~Stir in peanut butter (optional), vanilla and oatmeal.
~Drop by spoonful onto wax paper. Let cool for at least 30 minutes.
Read more about it at www.cooks.com
Content Copyright © 2010 Cooks.com – All rights reserved.
Through the Gates
By the time we knew it was too late
We were baited through those golden gates
Our eyes and minds were so elated
With promise of our hunger sated
But from first bite we lay awake
Cold and empty, calculating
tense, aroused and awaiting
The next neck we would be litigating

Dream Tree Origin
The warming of the air around was welcomed by the smallish plants. Green and full of hope, they stretched and stretched, feeling for the Sun’s nourishing rays. But, although the air became warmer still, they found no light in which to make food. The plants became confused and frightened. They worried that the beautiful sun had been taken away, and a lesser Something had been given charge of them. The warmth was nice, but with no light to make food, how would they survive?
In stillness they waited, the air becoming warmer and warmer, then hot. It began hurting the plants, who started to sweat and cry. What was this horrible thing that gave no nourishment and stole their precious tears?
Some plants became torn and bent as the animals of the forrest hurried away; they cried after the lucky, legged and slithering things that could move much faster than those with roots. Even the smaller trees had the advantage of being so very tall that they were sure to get clean, cool air and sunlight.
In all the chaos a particular smallish tree still beamed. Most of it’s leaves had been eaten by a beautifully delicate animal earlier that day. It had given freely of itself to nourish the animal because it was so gentle, it wanted more of its kind to be. The air was hot, but its leaves were already gone, so there was no reason to worry about making food. There was more than enough built up energy to start creating more buds once the air became clear and the sun came back. The sun always came back.
Flames licked at its trunk and the smallish tree still beamed. It listened to the song of the great, old trees around it as the forest mourned its loses. And in time a hopeful undertone came. The tree’s yearling bark cracked and peeled and the plants underneath burned quickly. When the pain became too much, it began to sing along. And with each sorrowful note, the smallish tree grew stronger.
December 6th, 2010 by dreamloaf | No Comments »Albert Camus on ‘Friends’
“Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend.”
November 17th, 2010 by dreamloaf | No Comments »Work
My vision stirred and I realized I’d been spacing out. All the colors were brighter, if only for a second. I wondered if that acid was spilling from my spinal cord and sending me down the rabbit hole again. I’d heard stories of LSD flashbacks. One of my high school friends claimed that he saw rain coming from the ceiling while he sat in senior English class. He told me this when I was young and stupid though.
“Chris!” I barely heared it. He could have said ‘Fred!’ or ‘Shit!’ but I think somebody was yelling my name.
A quick look around revealed a co-worker motioning for me to come closer. The machines around us caused just over what table G-16 from the Occupational Safety and Health Administration would require for implementation of a “Hearing Conservation Program,” so we wore earplugs. They would make hearing him difficult from this distance. This also meant that it was not a dialogue of normal operations. For most work functions, we had developed a language that consisted of a mixture of talking with exaggerated mouth movements and sign language. The communication developed over a period of months of adapting to the loud and fast-paced working environment.
I dragged my steel-toe clad feet over to him. My body ached from stacking bags of ice for nearly nine hours. The bags only weighed twenty pounds each, but I had literally moved tons from the conveyor belt at my knees, to the fragrant, wooden pallets, neatly topped with crisp sheets of shiny, laminated, cardboard paper, at my feet.
“The ice is almost gone!” the co-worker said excitedly as I came within hearing distance. I read his lips more than heard him, “but nobody is supposed to know, so don’t tell anyone I said anything…” He moved both hands, palms down, up and down in front of himself, meaning to keep it on the ‘down-low.’
I smiled and nodded knowingly. Rumors were common in a place like this. Speculation was rampant on the amount of ice that was left in the two giant ‘rake rooms’. They were dubbed ‘rake rooms’ because of the lines of spikes that dragged across the ice like a rake, pushing it towards a double-augar system that pushed it further down the line and so on.
The truth was, nobody really knew how long the ice would last until it was basically gone. And then it was obvious.
I celebrated inside anyway. Holding a little ball of bright white hope in my stomach. I had to stop myself from beaming. But my eyes gave away the news as my fellow stackers, hungry for new information, watched me approach.
“Are we almost done?” one said.
I thought about fucking around with them and complaining that we had hours left to go. This had happened early in the season with several weeks of 14 hour days. It would break them for a minute. They would threaten to walk out, but they would keep on stacking. They would stay until they were sent home. The supervisors had us trained well. Although it was hard work, and we weren’t getting paid nearly enough to do it, it was a job. And in that economy, a job was good to have.
September 5th, 2010 by dreamloaf | No Comments »Sugar Cookies
Ingredients
* 1 cup butter
* 1 cup white sugar
* 1 egg
* 2 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
* 1/4 teaspoon salt
* 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Directions
1. In a large bowl, cream together the butter and white sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the egg, then stir in the vanilla. Combine the flour and salt; stir into the sugar mixture. Cover dough, and chill for at least one hour. Chill cookie sheets.
2. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Press dough out onto ungreased, chilled cookie sheets.
3. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes in the preheated oven, or until lightly golden at the edges. Remove from cookie sheets to cool on wire racks.
http://allrecipes.com//Recipe/butter-cookies-ii/Detail.aspx
July 1st, 2010 by dreamloaf | 1 Comment »


