Eccentricity in R.E.M

I've been meaning to get around to this as one of my central blogging purposes-- that is, to record any nonsenscial unconscious thoughts that are normally referred to as "dreams". I don't dream in a linear or continuous pattern, I find instead that any memorable R.E.M mental images come to me in bursts... I am still trying to discover some unknown environmental catalyst that may perhaps inspire or facilitate dreaming. As of right now, I have two fragmented "episodes"...

This first dream happened upon me a few nights ago. It had something to do with my position as the protagonist in what I can only surmise is some sort of intellectual thriller plot. I am trying to catch a serial killer that traps a girl in his van in some faceless suburban area. The girl looks about early 20's in age. However, I am not me-- that is to say, the one that is "I" in my dream is actually another woman who is in her thirties and looks vaguely like Helen Hunt... not sure why. The serial killer's calling card is literally a card from a standard 52 playing deck. As far as I can remember, they were all red cards. I, as the protagonist, was led about various locations in order to catch the serial killer. There also seemed to be an underlying socio-political movement in this imagined society my character was existing within. Somehow, there was a new mutation of homo sapiens living among us... complete with extra appendages of the jaw, lips and ears. This is the only way I can describe this neo-human, besides the fact that they seemed to also be dark-skinned. As well as catching the serial killer, I was also apparently an activist for equal rights to these new mutated humans... there must have been some human rights squirmish happening around me. Anyway, I had at last come to the final location-- the last playing card clue. It was a King of Hearts, fastened securely in the middle of large rocks on the edge of a great and turquoise ocean. The waves seemed to be crashing madly, but the card remained intact... also I remember some feeling of cultural importance attributed to this final location. Apparently, my finding this location both caused the submission of the serial killer, and society's acceptance of the mutant human. Then my dream flashes time forward, maybe 15-20 years, where I am visiting a mutant human friend and his newly-procreated family. The last image of my dream is another van driving slowly in a suburban neighbourhood... its side door opens... and a girl very alike in appearance to the first willingly climbs in. And so ends the almost disturbingly abstract diagetic story that was my dream! I'm tempted to start judging myself... I didn't know I was so deeply sci-fi/B-movie ideal in my imagination.

The other dream I'm too lazy and uncreative to detail in sentences. There was nonsense about going to an airport on the edge of an ocean and a forest... me rescueing a small child from swampwater next to the ocean (I was actually me this time), and then another man, mid-thirties, jumping through the air towards the skyline of a metropolis, and the metropolis rapidly dissolving and shifting away.

I really don't get myself sometimes.