In My Brain While Sleeping… Sucking Literally And Figuratively
Freud only knows why we dream about the things we do. And maybe I shouldn’t have invoked Freudian psychoanalysis on this weird subconscious wish fulfillment? (Gah, I hope not.)
Basically, there was a new product on the market for owners of Dyson vacuum cleaners. If you felt your little sucker wasn’t original enough, you could purchase decal kits to spice yours up. For example:
Because sure why not.
Nonetheless, I don’t remember if I invented them or rushed out to purchase a Dyson Decal pack, but I dreamt about ‘em.
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There was another dream I had, and I know it was an enlightening one. Basically, I sent an email to a blog, and the authors behind it emailed me back a response like this:
Dear Sean,
We will post your lazily written letter, but shame on your lazy writing.
Editors
The editors somehow got a hold of my cell phone number and they called to give me advice. The advice they gave me was priceless, and I woke up between my snooze-a-thon fully recalling their nugget of insight.
Damn. I can’t remember it anymore.
Wow, that’s really pathetic!
I don’t remember my dreams. True story.