Mythos Dreams

These are the dreams I've had about (you) this past year.

Don't worry, it's nothing too scandalous.

In fact, I don't often dream of people that I know in my day to day life. Let alone in the gay way.

So this is for you to read and you alone.

(Others are more than welcome.)

Because only you should make sense of these, hopefully. Unless it's all nonsense, then it's all rubbish that I don't have to worry about. Just lucid dreams that don't make sense.

March 12th, 2024

The Title Card: Bristol, September, 2005.

It opens up like an opening to a film. The camera pans down from a Birds Eye View, from the sky, down to a group of Bright, Young Things standing outside a church. It's night, I think, 7pm. And there's a group of us, cold... waiting to enter the church for a rehearsal of some sort Am Dram Society or Theatre Group. And you are there. And I'm there too, except, I'm not me. I'm just some guy, tall - ish. 5ft 9"? 5ft 10"? Possibly. James? But I'm cold and it's raining and I'm in a green raincoat/mack type thing, as well as a shirt and tie. I look smart. And so do you, well... for what you can be for a 19 year old Drama Student trying to rule the world whilst attempting to create all of the art possible.

You try the door. It's locked and you get pissed off because it's supposed to be open. You told the manager that you were coming tonight to rehearse and that you needed it unlocked. You ask around to see if anyone has a spare key. Noone does. It's raining. We're getting wet. And you're getting huffy. You call up the manager to ask where they are to unlock the door, they're away in Barbados, it turns out.

You turn to me/the guy I'm embedded in and say, "It's fine. It's fine... tell me it's going to be fine." You pause, "but not now, later."

Rehearsals can't be done. You go home annoyed.

I can't remember what the show was for. But I think you wrote it.

The dream ends.

We meet for the first time: April 7th, 2024.

And then we meet again on May 20th, 2024.

June 20th, 2024

The Title Card: York, June, 2008.

Opening shot: The outside of The York Barbican, then the inside - a view of the stage from the Balcony on the far Left.

There are people on stage, lots of young Theatre Kids. (OK, people in the late teens, early twenties or so - youth.) And there's people in pairs and threes going over lines and trying to block bits, whereas others are still sitting on the floor reading their scripts, though they've had them a while already, they appear to have lots of highlights and notes on.

My POV is from within a person again, a young lady this time, 5ft 8", brunette, brown eyes, pale, slim, actual Yorkshire accent. Mandy? But that's not important.

You're there again. Again, stressed beyond balls.

You're a (co) writer/director/producer of this Theatre Company. And you're really angry at Gordon Brown and the cuts to the arts. (Again!)

You're pacing around, getting huffy again. (Perhaps the word is mardy? That was the word we used for mum.) And you're walking around with a tall-ish man, 5ft 10" or so. Tall skinny man, with brown hair, sharp nose. Or that's what he puts on his Spotlight. Chris? Chris S? Can't remember his last name. That sounds right.

"I'm not Jesus Christ!" You ejaculate. "Well... not yet." As if its a joke with yourself.

You stand over me, look down at me, and point, "I told you! Yes, you! I told you to say it'll be OK and you didn't. Now look at what you've done."

I'm in shock because I have no idea of what I've supposed to have done in this dream/faux memory. (Real memory? Mythos dream? Who knows?)

(I also understand that this all reads as total mental illness and delusion. But I just hope it's just... dreams. Nothing more. Though... this is more surreal than what I'm used to. I.e. regular insanity dreams about Zombie Hitler and Time Travelling Caravans.)

Anyway, on with the dream...

"Me?!" I ask.

"Yes, you! You were supposed to take care of it all." You take a minute, pace and come back to me, "Don't let him take charge. Don't let him."

"Who?" I ask.

"You know who. This is a warning for your next year." You say before snapping out of it, and getting on with being a twink director.

You walk away, and then the dream ends...

July 25th, 2024

Title Card: Australia, September, 2012

We start with a Birds Eye View of watching you and two friends walking through the Australian Bush... this dream is fuzzy. It jump cuts A LOT. It's not in HD either. It's all over the place.

The three of you are talking about what drinks you want to go for after tonight's show.

You say that "a beer will do", then pause and say, "no, wait... something better? I want to celebrate." The woman to your right says, "I'm happy to just sticking to gin, and possibly the lemonade... I am genuinely considering just drinking anything straight, the way I feel..."

We then jump to a dark Dungeon/Theatre. (Aren't they the same thing anyway?)

(Well, they can be if you want them to be.)

I'm in the audience, around 3 rows back.

It's MacBeth the Scottish Play. (Or should that be The Australian Play?)

All male cast, including Lady MacBeth.

And you're MacBeth.

There's not a lot to say... except that it goes on for what seems like 7 hours.

But...

(That is Shakespeare for you.)

It's actually hypnotisingly good?? Well, according to my brain it is.

It's also a very sweaty production as everyone is in all black, in a Dungeon, in Australia.

And your cryptic message at the end of the show this time: "Go talk. Talk to anyone. But not the wrong people. That'll get you in trouble. And we don't want that. Or perhaps you do?" You pause. "If you get into some naughty trouble, I'll shave the beard... or I'll flick Dannan in the potatoes. But... I don't know him yet, so that can't hurt me. But the first one is certainly a threat."

Fade to black. End of dream.

September 19th, 2024

I dream I'm at my desk. (I don't have a desk or an office. So I already know that this is a dream.)

You come up to me, sit opposite me and pull out a white envelope from your velvet blazer that says "Master Prediction Don't Open Till Bristol", (yes, the very same), and it contained all of the effects, methods and predictions to use for my Magic Set at Bristol.

You leaned over and told me, "there's not long left now... get working... and either I or Dannan will buy you a Guinness afterwards." You wait a second and add... "actually, add that, that may work, I'm sure that'll be a fun joke and if you get a drink out of it, then win-win."

We spent the rest of the dream talking about magic and the set we were going to prepare and how to set it up and importantly, execute.

Fade to black. Dream ended, next one began.

When I woke up, I worked on various effects and patter intensely.

When I said I've been working on something for a few weeks, I wasn't joking.

Then it was the Apoctoberfest Weekend in Bristol from October 18th-20th.

I did my magic set as expected and better.

The whole weekend went better than expected. It was very nice. I found new family there. And I found a new home in Bristol.

October 30th, 2024

Title Card: Edinburgh Fringe, 2008

Twas the night before Halloween...

We start off with a grainy screen from a VHS Recording, which turns to black.

The words "The Tartuffle" come up for a few seconds.

(Turtaffe? Tart Kerfuffle? I cannot remember the spelling. But it was bizarre.)

And then the video plays... the Point Of View is someone, possibly myself, watching the play on TV.

And then we zoom in... into the TV. And through the screen. It goes black. And then I wake up in the audience. In a darkened room. Barely lit. 2... perhaps 3 lights. (Lamps.)

I'm in the audience as myself this time.

And you are there, as an actor. Commanding the room. "I'm the most important person on the planet." I think you say. Followed by a whole mix of acts, one by one becoming more and more surreal, a frenzy of different art forms from mime, to clown, to dance, to you monologuing... "I'm Jesus Christ..." you exclaim, as if its a call back to the past dream/memory that's a joke just for me to understand.

(Well, it is in my head after all.)

Two words flash in front of me, "Belt" and "Up".

Everything pauses. And the woman next to me says, "this is important; the CGS unit of kinematic viscosity, remember that."

So... Stokes? What's Stokes? Who's Stokes?

(This is more cryptic than July's one.)

Then you walk straight up to me... and grab my hands, lean in and say;

"Koschei, Koschei*... listen Koschei... you're going tomorrow. You're travelling tomorrow. And when you arrive, look out. Because Lorcorna Is Dead. Lorcorna will be dead. You'll know it when you see it."

(You actually say my legal name, but still, you get the gist.)

You walk away and finish the show.

I give a Standing Ovation to the weirdest shit I've ever seen.

The dream ends...

The next day... I travel to Colchester to see my friend's play, "Pup Play; a Queer Pseudo Lecture (of sorts)" which was on at the Colchester Fringe Festival.

There's many a Theatre Poster up. But none catch my eye like this one...

"The Pen & The Sword - The Death of Lorca?"

Close enough.

November 8th, 2024

Title Card: Near Future, Norfolk/London, 2024/2025

This was a bizarre Title Card.

Yes, I get some dreams set in the Future. I get that. But the idea that it's set Norfolk/London & 2024/2025 says to me that either I can't make up my mind of when or where this happens.

Or...

In terms of the Multiverse Theory...

It's happening/happened/will happen multiple times but in various ways.

I, as a general, am a massive Multiverse Theory Believer. (You may be able to tell from this post.)

I believe in low level psychic energy, which is commonly called Intuition.

I don't know if I fully believe in actual mind reading or predicting the future from outside means... (I.e. G0d/the Universe told me!!)

But I, as a Magician/Mentalist, have to be able to read people and predict their next moves and behaviour because if not... Staple Gun Roulette would go very, very wrong.

So I believe in that. I believe in Intuition, Science & Psychology. (Insert all the German Psychologists.)

I also believe hugely in lucid dreaming.

And I believe & know that I/we're a Dissociative Disorder and many of us can dream/control a dream at once.

But let's just say... for shits and giggles...

I am able to tap into the Multiverse and see other people's lives and realities for half a second. This is a theory that would have to be disproven to be proven. Right? Or am I going insane? (It's only 7.20pm, fuck me... I'm now going into Conspiracy Theory territory.)

Anyway... the dream that happened, did, by chance happen twice at the same time. I saw it happening both in November 2024, in Norfolk AND in May 2025, in London. (Manifestion, dear boy.)

Again, all of these Dreams could be Lucid Bullshit. It's just my brain going on adventures after all.

Basically, we were sitting together at a desk, (not my desk or my office), but it was a Writer's Room or Library of some sort. (The comfy kind that has beanbags and pillows and shit.)

You're sitting next to me with your arm around me on my shoulder and we're working on a script of some sort. (Comedy, I think.)

And you tell me, "You know what this means, right?"

"Right? No... wait? No I don't."

"It means I can't do this, whilst in this situation. I can't work with you whilst you're... y'know."

"No, I don't know?"

"Don't be a silly dog,", (Yes, you used the word "dog", not even pup etc.), and then... I can't finish the sentence. Because it's true and don't I know it.

You hold me, release. And get up from the desk, and leave me.

End of dream, it fades away. And rightfully so.

(This is self punishment for being a Sad Gay Boy who keeps on peddling bikes with no chains. This happens once every year and half. A new pretty boy comes along and... oh, you know.)

November 9th, 2024

In all fairness, this dream is of the Call of Cthulhu Scenario: Dead Light, where I'm in the Jazz Trio... that's essentially now a Jazz Quad...

This is basically just a dream that was within a dream... within a dream... and it was infused with Fiction and my own Trauma...

(Talking about my Dad, whilst trying to play to an empty audience... Two big stresses in my life.)

And then I realised that this was a Lucid Dream and then me & you started talking about Lucid Dreams whilst we ate Curly Fries in a Vampire Themed Jazz Bar, but you were a Trans Femme Version of yourself - still with a beard, btw.

Twas bizarre.

A lot actually happened in this, but the "film" keeps jumping between scenes and POVs too much to recognise what is actually happening and in what order.

But it was a lot of fun. And a lot nicer than November 8th. And obviously a dream and not some sort of faux memory or Multiverse Theory/Psychic shit.

I'm hoping that this may make some sense at some point. Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

Mythos Dreams? Messages from Cthulhu?

Who knows? Perhaps you do?

-Koschei Rex & William

😈🦖🌌