archival rat dreams

blog dedicated to keeping a log of my dreams. the first few entries will be what i have saved so far, and afterwards will be updated in real time

[ratdreamarchive]

episode 818 of one piece. i sit on the stained couch next to my older sister who’d initially forced me to watch. she and i know the only reason i haven’t left yet was the intro card. it featured characters i liked, and recognised. gojo, geto, and itadori, some of my favourites. i didn’t question why they were in one piece, nor did i question why they maintained their art style instead of adapting to the new world. i tell my sister to pause the episode for a moment, and get irritated when she doesn’t. no matter, though. the episode continues, now focusing on a small girl with a russian accent. the five or six year old was quite kind, and quiet, yet was continually chastised and scolded by the older women aboard the ship. she runs below deck in tears, and the disgruntled, scraggly old man of a captain sighs. he lights a quick fire to start the boat up, and pull out of the port before going down to follow after the russian girl. her wide brimmed, floppy purple hat falls over the little girls eyes as she tucks her knees to her chest to keep quiet even while crying. the old captain gently comforts her, and eventually walks her back to her bedroom to tuck her in to sleep.

after turning out the lights, and shuffling back to the captains quarters, suddenly the old man drops his pants and begins to, for a lack of a better term, finger bang his booty. my jaw drops and i turn to my sister. “IS HE A PEDOPHILE?? WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE.”

“no, no. he has the bang-bang devil fruit, so he has to finger his butthole to make a fire from his dick which controls the ship.” i don’t have time to process this information before the captain gingerly cleans up the mess of ash with a small ornate spoon. May 5th, 2025.

[ratdreamarchive]

“i was watching a tiktok edit, and it kept mentioning catjade…what does that mean?” the redheaded girl stares directly at me, unblinking. it felt as though her eyes were reaching past the confines of the television to speak to me directly.

jade looked up from her phone in bewilderment, armed with that ever present bitchy scowl and a furrowed brow. “who the fuck are you talking to?” she prompted.

“oh in a blink gone,” came a song which definitely did not belong. although cats lips moved, and she began to sing, the voice was certainly not hers. as if cat were lip-syncing, the original audio of “Blink Gone” played, much to the confusion of the cast of victorious.

deciding to ignore cat, the cast look away and return to berating robbie, hoping to get him to leave. even rex. the conversation came to an abrupt stop when the back glass door to tori’s home slammed open, and in marched slim shady. to the tune of “knees weak, arms are heavy, there’s vomit on his sweater already…” eminem parodied a gay version of the song, and lifted robbie like one would a limp ragdoll.

a wet kiss punctuates eminem’s final verse, and with a loving “my little gay guy,” he left. April 24th, 2025.

[ratdreamarchive]

weaving like a nimble thread through this obstacle course which i face, i am suddenly caught on a frayed edge of this towering pile of mattresses. blankets, sheets, pillows, and soft comforters pass by quickly as i fall down, down, further down, and i feel like a small pea in comparison. a noise draws my eye, still falling. my best friend next to me, now we both fall. her face is painted beautifully, and my eyes wander to the makeup artist who falls with us, a twink. he winks at me, a smile tugging at his lips with zero regard for our situation. i find myself standing, though i do not remember landing. a crown rests on my head, and my constituents cheer — a crowd of crustaceans of various species. denzel washington climbs out of a washing machine to congratulate me. March 23rd, 2025.

[ratdreamarchive]

dropped within an arena, one much like that seen in The Hunger Games, i was skittish and flighty. i ran, and fell upon the only other person seemingly around for miles. a man with a needle in his arm, belt cutting the circulation, and injecting what i could only assume to be a substance similar to heroine. a sudden wind stirred the scene, and when my vision cleared i stood in my kitchen, accompanied not by the addict, but my friends. together, we made a lovely breakfast of sausage and eggs. my vision blurs once again, but now i walked down the sidewalk alone. the door of the first house i approached swung open for a girl with a bright smile, and an extra controller for mario kart, and i felt my chest soften. i was late for work. January 18, 2025.

[ratdreamarchive]

a crowd surrounds a plain man, lanky in stature, and pale in complexion, all cheering to the tune of Chappel Roan’s Hot To Go. rather than the actual lyrics, however, the crowd altered it to instead repeat the phrase “H-O-T-T-O-G-O. Our Government Has Got To Go!” the man in the center seemed to be leading the chant, encouraging everybody in the crowd, commanding them to express their passionate discontent. then, like the red sea parting for moses, a man steps through the crowd and into the center with the lanky protestor, soup in hand. the crowd hushed to a strange murmur, uncertain of the stranger. but when the soup man raised his spoon high, and dipped the bowl directly to his lips, the crowd suddenly found it’s voice once more. all chanting in unision, lanky man included, they hype up the soup man in the name of broth, and revolution. Decmber 14th, 2024.

[ratdreamarchive]

my hometown decided to hold a roller skating competition in the style of “The Ridonculous Race.” a friend of mine was known as the “Greatest Grandmaster of Rollin’,” to my lack of knowledge, and was accompanied by a mutual friend, and their closest companion, who was not actually racing, but rather there for fun. our normally cracked and crooked sidewalks were in even worse disrepair than normal; everywhere you turned snakes among other dangerous obstacles obstructed the path, forcing the skaters to manoeuvre with careful precision. down the road, we entered one of our first stops in the race, our local 7-11. rolling up to the counter, me and the grandmaster received our task — create an outfit using blue and pink bracelets, vests, and other decorative clothing items in a “tumblr fashion.” the cashier also took the opportunity to talk with me about some bracelets i wanted to get repaired, and although it took away some of the time i could have spent on the task at hand, i was very appreciative. as quickly as we possibly could, me and my friend(s) skated out of the 7-11 just as the next wave of participants began to flood the store, finally catching up. sporting a blue vest with a cartoonish Sonic The Hedgehog patch sewed on, myself and my companions venture to the second tasks location - CVS. unlike most CVS locations, this one was inside an old, decrepit shack. within the shabby pharmacy contained a myriad of fictional characters such as bill cipher, all of which had gotten stuck at this portion of the race. as it is revealed, this portion required us to solve a murder mystery in order to escape and proceed. the grandmaster and myself begin trying to search the CVS for any clues upon realising something had blocked every entryway possible, until i spotted two tall figures splattered in colours standing outside the windows. a pair of demonic entities who hid their true nature behind the innocence of clowns whom i know as Bippy and Zeppy. creatures which haunt my soul. but as my eyes connect with theirs, flickering between their hunched forms, i recall a missing piece of the puzzle, a torn part of a riddle given to us earlier. “The only clown I can kill is the one which stands before myself.” hesitation allows for death, and so i spin around in a surge of adrenaline, skating over the rickety wood of the CVShack to crash through the backdoor and land on the pair of demonic clowns in order to slaughter them. December 5, 2024.

[ratdreamarchive]

i had 2 hours in order to learn the tuba, but every time i attempted to reach the mouthpiece it would turn into an exceedingly longer trombone. unable to reach the mouthpiece, i had to use the “sackbutt” in order to pull it closer, only to then be thrown into a dungeon and dragons campaign in which i created a gay dandelion guy from the organic material of the previously deceased party members. October 13, 2024.