If you suffer from chronic pain and I tell you that it is most likely impacting your sleep quality, you’re probably going to go, “Well, duh.” I was actually given amitriptyline to help manage some of the symptoms of my idiopathic intracranial hypertension, but (because I am also an enormous, terrified pansy when it comes to taking new meds) this has primarily led to me having a fetching new pillbottle-shaped paperweight on my nightstand and continuing to have terrible, painy sleep.
Supposedly, binaural beats can help cause the brain to try to match or follow the wavelength of the phantom beat. The end result is that you can supposedly trick your brain into whatever brainwave state you desire just by listening to what sounds like some drunk Aliens tapping out Morse code on a Casio someone dropped in a pool. One of these is the delta state associated with deep sleep, which many people suffering from chronic pain have a hard time getting and maintaining for a sufficient period of time.
Still, whether they work or not, some of them are kind of pleasant. There are even some layered with sounds like a cat’s purring, stormy weather, ocean waves, or birds, so they’re even relaxing to listen to on their own. There are other “pure tones,” which I’ve listened to alone or with music. I don’t know if they work because my sleep schedule is unorthodox at best, but I have noticed an uptick in the number of dreams I have that involve using trained Allosauruses to sniff out coal and uranium deposits inside of dark caves (think like pigs and truffles, only larger and mostly mean). Unfortunately the Allosauruses were really difficult to manage and not very tractable so we ended up having to go with using helicopters outfitted with some kind of radio-frequency device instead (which we completely should’ve done from the beginning, but the technology just wasn’t caught up yet).
Pictured: not a viable way to detect either fossil or nuclear fuel sources in caves.
Image from Pageresource.com/
It’s almost weirder than the time falling asleep after a bunch of Slenderman videos made me have a dream about playing volleyball and eating this really fancy carrot cake on the shore of a beach covered in baby seaturtles. Almost.
If you want to try this binaural stuff out for yourself, there are some Youtube videos devoted to it, some sites for free beats, and a veritable buttload of tracks on Spotify.
About 3 AM PST because I don’t know how to sleep properly and am a terrible influence on everyone I know.
Jecca V: guys
Jecca V: guys
Jecca V: what does it mean if you repeatedly dream of an animal
Jecca V: only instead of “repeatedly dream” it’s more like “keep coming across in bizarre fashions all fucking day”
C.E.: WHAT DOES THE FURRED TROUT MEAN
Jecca V: and instead of “animal” it is “a trout in a fur co– yes
Jecca V: (not the urban dictionary version I already checked there)
Jecca V: (I also checked a dream dictionary but all it said was that dreaming about a trout means you’ll be rich but dreaming about fur coats means you’ll marry a rich guy and he’ll be an asshole so idk)
First, it happened when C.E. mentioned furry trout when we were bingeing on sites about bad taxidermy.
Then, during Brotherhood of the Wolf.
Then again during some Etsy windowshopping for something completely different.
By the time it popped up for the fourth time while reading totally unrelated things on the SCP wiki, we were beginning to wonder if we weren’t being sent some kind of desperately important message.
A desperately important message in the form of a gross-ass hairy fish.
Fur bearing trout, via Wikipedia. Image by Samantha Marx.
Is it a freakishly repetitive random occurrence? An omen of some kind? A taxidermied harbinger of doom? Are we cursed to be haunted by this fur-bearing piscine oracle until we can unlock its mysteries? After consulting folklore and dream dictionaries (I know it’s not a dream, but it isn’t like they really have one of these for bizarrely symbolic shit that happens while you’re awake, you know?)… I’ve got nothing.
C.E. thinks I’m reading to far into this, but I pointed out that I was probably reading exactly far enough into this (which is not at all yet, since I haven’t found anything that can tell me what it means when a pretend trout in a coat crosses your path a bunch of times) and they should worry more about possibly missing the vital warnings the universe might be attempting to communicate via dead hair-fish on the internet.
Even though I like exploring dead buildings and areas purported to be haunted, these are generally not selling points when it’s time for me to find a place to try camping out for a day or two.
As it turns out, finding any kind of campground late at night requires an almost Herculean effort. Finding one that doesn’t look like it’ll get you murdered in your sleep by forest monsters is even trickier.
With luck, after giving up and car camping for a night or so, we happened upon a pretty nice and very reasonably priced campground– Mirabel RV Park and Campground in Forestville, CA. Tent camping for a night was only about $27 (roughly half of some of the other campgrounds we’d looked at), and the site we managed to snag was right on the riverside. Sites also have access to water, electricity, and their own firepits, which was hugely helpful, and there are shower and bathroom areas located here and there throughout the park.
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As some of you might have noticed, I decided to abscond for a bit again. I have a good excuse, though!
For a given value of “good” and “excuse”.
If you’re the kind of person who considers ogling dead buildings and hiking through Slenderman’s compost pile a good time (I am).
I live nearish the Sacramento area, in a tiny community. One neat thing about Sacramento is that it has scads of old architecture, and a lot of it is very pretty. Areas under the old part of the city are full of a warren of tunnels (since bricked off and turned into basements for the businesses atop them), and there’s even an old PG&E building that still sits abandoned near a park (despite long-term plans to turn it into a museum). Unfortunately, many of the coolest looking areas aren’t exactly easy to access. That’s okay, though. We took a bit of a drive and found some others.
An abandoned building on Mare Island in Vallejo, CA.
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Google has forsaken me.
And you know it’s going to be an interesting day when you have to spend the first several hours of it image searching for things like “unidentified eyeball spiders” and “how to prevent eye spiders.” Or basically anything combining the words “spider” and “eyeball.”
Teal deer version, I woke up with a spider in my eye.
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I always thought crows, ravens, and other carrion birds were cool (as did any teenager with too much black eyeliner and a copy of The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe). It wasn’t until I moved to Delaware, though, that I fully realized how awesome they could be.
Picture traffic, backed up for blocks, because of what appears to be a black plastic bag perched on a dead skunk. People honk, inch forward like they’re prepared to grind this strange tableau into gritty street pizza, but it doesn’t move. Then, the bag turns out to be this:
Turkey buzzard, photo by Kevin Cole from Pacific Coast, USA. Click image for source.
“I invite you to count the number of fucks that I give, sir. This will not take long.”
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