In My Brain While Sleeping… You’re Looking At The Creator Of “Ilusión Óptica Mexicana Brillante”

I’ve been on a bit of a drought in regard to dreams lately.  I’ve had a few false starts, such as:

  • A dream about a movie starring The Two Coreys (Haim and Feldman, back in the day in their prime) and they were trying to get their parents to marry each other à la the Parent Trap.
  • A dream where I went on a Muppet hunting safari but didn’t know it.
  • A dream where I realized how funny it is to put “The” in front of various subjects, like The Fonz, The Hamburger, The State, and The Sex.

But last night, I had a vision about a vision like no other… I had inadvertently developed a new art form dubbed:

Ilusión Óptica Mexicana Brillante

Okay, I’ll admit that I don’t know Spanish, and I don’t exactly remember the hack job that went on in my subconscious (although it was kinda close to the above Babel Fish translation), but for you gringos it means:

Shiny Mexican Optical Illusion

Turned out I wasn’t the one that originated the name.  There once was a Mexican artist/philosopher that initially proposed the possibility of what I accomplished.  His theory:

Two images can be created on top of each other.  One will be visible in reflective light, and one will be visible in non-reflective light. – a Mexican artist/philosopher

So in some alcoholic stupor reeking of brilliance, I drew a picture that looked like this in “reflective light” (whatever that means):

yellowcar

And in “non-reflective light” (again, whatever that means), the artwork looked like this:

3dmap

I drew it as a doodle.  A throw away scribble on crinkled scrap paper.  But someone – the right someone – saw it, and heralded me as a mathematical genius for pulling off the Ilusión Óptica Mexicana Brillante manually. 

In fact, it was a forgotten art theory, and I was thrust into the limelight, not unlike Andy Warhol.  My fifteen minutes were beginning after my scribble was purchased  for $500,000 by an unknown collector.  Duplicates of my work were sold in bulk at mall stores built just for my Shiny Mexican Optical Illusion.  The hype was similar to the interest over those pictures you stared at to see sunken treasure ships and sharks.

But I couldn’t live up to the expectations and failed to duplicate my success.  14:58, 14:59, 15:00 minutes hit, and I woke up.

Here’s the thing… I feel I could duplicate the Ilusión Óptica Mexicana Brillante  in real life.  I only need to figure out to create “non-reflective light.”

INGREDIENTS: Two cold pieces of pizza and a couple pitchers of Blue Moon.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Camping Is Not A Good Time For Nightmares

This post could have easily turned into a Drunken Recollection, considering the amount of beers downed over my time camping.  As I explained to my sister, when I was on a cruise, I had documentation of how quickly I could finish a drink: every 15 minutes.  She didn’t believe me, so she checked the clock on her phone and timed me.  I didn’t rush.  I casually chatted and played ladder golf.  11 minutes.  I’m not proud.  Well, maybe a little.

Anylowenbrau, both nights while in my tent, I was awakened with a start.  Was it the booze?  Was it the location?  Who cares knows, but both dealt with unstoppable killers.

The first night’s dream started off okay.  It featured the lovely Julie Bowen.

julie_bowen-edit

I tried. She changed her number.

Sure, she was breaking up with me, but I was keeping calm.  I remember saying, “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t still love me.”  And she couldn’t.  So WIN!

Somebody was trying to interview me about my latest book, and we kept trying to move to quieter areas in the nightclub.  Eventually, we were in the alley, where my car was parked.  The trunk was open, and a sewer portal was running through it.

The interviewer spotted a mining cap and pick axe and reached for it.  I warned him not too, and that’s when this guy appeared:

sewerguy

Pote Snitkin cleans up pretty nice.

At least that’s the closest approximation of the horror that chased me.  And he would not stop.  At one point, I was on a roof top, and as he darted at me, he ran into a wall and fell over the side of the building.

Feeling safe, I proceeded to climb down the ladder not far from his crushed face and distorted body.  As I neared the ground, he smiled and started sitting up.  I woke up immediately.

The next night, my cousin’s stepson was telling me about this video showing the ghost of Michael Jackson.  People that know me and/or keep up on this site know how I feel about ghosts.  But I was determined not to let a ten year old see my eyes well up.  Luckily, upon returning home, I discovered this explanation of the “phenomenon”:

But it still didn’t help the fact that the second night, I had a dream I was driving around at night and saw a bunch of people running in the streets.  Cars were hitting people and they were flying everywhere.  I saw the UPS guy that brings PC deliveries to our office get struck, so I stopped my car to check on him.  As I did, a big zombie burly guy in a jump suit appeared behind me and shanked me – another one of my greatest fears.

This dream woke me in the middle of the night.  I had to pee, but I had no flashlight.  I went anyway.  It proves I’m a big boy.  I can handle anything.

Except MJ’s ghost…

Not good timing, at all...

Not good timing, at all...

In My Brain While Sleeping… A Trio Of Deliriums

I don’t even know if there’s an interest in the strange things I dream about, but it’s my blog and I can cry write about it if I want to.  I look at it mostly as the catalog I always meant to keep, but um, now do.

Over all the years, and even the months of this site, I know many odd and wondrous things have slipped through the cracks.  I collect here those that made it past the brain fade into oblivion, or the ones I care to share, which honestly are almost all… For example, I exclude those that are merely half ideas or lack narratives, like the dream where I had a motorcycle again (whoo hoo) or owned a gun that was combined with a bullhorn (a loudener, if you will).

For the sake of avoiding specifics on these dreams, I simply made montages.  In one case, it’s a Montag.

DELIRIUM 1

elephantdream

INGREDIENTS: Penn & Teller, two elephants (one pictured), a giant spatula, and buckets of fake blood.  It was one of their acts.  It was initially horrifying, then not so much so.

DELIRIUM 2

ocarinadream2

 

INGREDIENTS: Well, more of an explanation is needed here… there was this baby that had oily (pre-acne) skin, and depending upon how you touched the infant’s back, the child would make musical note sounds like an ocarina.  So as you held the baby in your arms, instead of crying, you heard elevator music, or the stylings of Kenny G.

DELIRIUM 3

speididream

INGREDIENTS: Spencer and Heidi Pratt and the cast of Kappa Mikey.  Man, those two don’t know the meaning of the word overexposure… and yes, they were in this cartoon.

OVERALL INGREDIENTS FOR DELIRIUMS (OR DELERIA, IF YOU PREFER): Velveeta cheese after beer and Pizza Rolls before beer.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Kermit The Frog Escapes From Rosie O’Donnell!

For some reason, the world was all aflutter in this dream.  National news, tabloid shows, late night talk fests… everyone was going crazy about how Rosie O’Donnell ate the Muppets.

(Now let me state this here: I have no problem with Rosie-O whatsoever.  I like women in the media like her and Roseanne that speak their minds, even if people don’t really want to hear it.  Don’t know why this is so, but I just thought I had to give this disclaimer.)

Anywhatnot, the media jumped all over the story.  Word was that she had already devoured Miss Piggy and Gonzo, and that she was well on her way to swallowing Kermit.

Dramatization of my psychosis

Dramatization of my psychosis

 But then, against all odds, Kermit showed up at a Hollywood premier.  Interviewers pressed him for a what, and a why, and a how, and all he said was that he climbed out of Rosie’s gullet.  Overnight, this poster was found in offices everywhere:

On Sale Now! (...nowhere...)

On Sale Now! (...nowhere...)

 INGREDIENTS: Booze and a patty melt (minus onions) plus garlic mashed potatoes.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Loud Noises, Where-Wolves, And A Bounty Hunter Makes A Correction Regarding His Name

Since this blog is an open book to all my weaknesses, it’s sorta turned into my (NERD ALERT!) Xavier Protocols.  Of my weaknesses (vanilla-scented anything falls high on that list), loud noises while I sleep smacks near the top.  On the night of these particular dreams, I fell asleep with the television on only to be awakened by a loud lawyer commercial.

Okay, it wasn’t that one, but imagine if the explosions were audible, then you’d get the picture.

hulkblonsky

Anyambulancechaser, in the first dream, I encountered a new breed of night creatures… the WHERE-WOLVES.  How were they different than werewolves?  Let me explain with a (NERD ALERT!) toy from the remake reboot whatever second Hulk movie:

You see, in the flick, which I have not seen, the dude on the right mutates into the monster on the left.  This toy, called the Hulk Deluxe Mutating Abomination, does not mutate at all.  Instead of either really mutating by adding water, or by simply imagining that it happens, the little guy fits into a compartment on the back of the big guy.  Dumb?  You bet.

Well that’s pretty much how where-wolves worked.  Wolves merged with their host humans so both could exist.  To recombine, humans hovered over the wolves.  Now that you’ve pictured it, moving on…

My other dream involved a (NERD ALERT!) Star Wars character.  Growing up, I knew this bounty hunter…

4lom

…as Zuckuss and this guy…

zuckuss

…as 4-LOM.  But as it turned out, the original Kenner toy line had it wrong in the 80’s, and with the re-releases of the toys in the 90’s, they rectified the problem and named each of them correctly.  To me though, Zuckuss will always be 4-LOM and 4-LOM will be Zuckuss.  Until I was corrected in a dream.  This guy…

4lom

…showed up to tell me his name really was Allen.

INGREDIENTS: Turkey and provolone on a bagel and a Mountain Dew.  And beer.

In My Brain While Sleeping… So Long, Tiny Zebra And Tiny Cougar, I Will Miss You

I don’t know of any better way to convey this oddity of a dream that stuck with me.  So here it is chronologically.  Now with 100% more pictures!

cruisecopter

I started off on a cruise ship that went to an island (of course), and I took a helicopter out to sea.

 

 

Dramatization (not an actual plier-mouthed porpoise)

Dramatization (not an actual plier-mouthed porpoise)

And because I was afraid of heights (from being in the helicopter), I jumped into ocean, hitched on ride on tandem jet ski, and saw huge porpoises with wrench-like teeth and giant dolphins leaping  over row boats and other jet skis.

 

 

 

 

simplemathOnce I reached dry land found, I found a tiny zebra and a tiny cougar (both were pocket-sized).

 

deepimpactI carried them around we me (in my pockets, natch) until I witnessed a tsunami coming ashore from opposite directions.

 

bedpanThen it suddenly turned into “real life” and I was at one of my company’s clients that sells medical equipment.  I gave my tiny zebra and my tiny cougar to their employees, so they could be cared for.

 

 

hamburgerdressI ended up finding out that the medical supplier had started manufacturing meat products out of zebras and cougars in general, so I narc’d reported them to the authorities.  

 

 

 

roadkillI thought they were marketing the meat as ‘hamburger,’ but in fact, they were selling it as ‘wild game’ to a restaurant near my office.

 

 

INGREDIENTS: Jellybean Nerds and Mountain Dew

In My Brain While Sleeping… Smoking Weed Where The Sun Don’t Shine

Sometimes I wish I could remember every dream I had, because the ones that I do… whew boy!  Where do they come from?

Last night was no exception.

If there was going to be a visual mash-up of ideas, it’d be best represented by this:

Something something America!

Something something America! AKA Freudians have fun!

Using the above graphic you should be able to ascertain the elements involved… so here’s the gist of the dream.

There was a grouping of triplets (is that how you’d refer to them?), and they were preparing to set a new Guinness World Record.  Grant it, the triplets in the dream were burnout dudes, but I figured why not put the Dahm sisters up because of their, um, patriotism.

The new record they were setting to create?  Who could stay the longest at the bottom of an active volcano.  The location they chose was Hawaii.  The seat of choice was their old green sofa.  The method they chose to pass the time was getting high.

The world was watching, they set the record, and became overnight celebrities.  They even ended up releasing an album with Kid Rock.

I wish I could tell you how long they stayed in the volcano, or that I could regale you with an anecdote of how the brothers lit their joints on molten lava, but I remember none of that.

What I do remember was the commemorative license plate they offered in the fine state of Hawaii:

(Fairly) Artisitic Representation... I'm getting better at this stuff if I do say so myself

(Fairly) Artistic Representation... I'm getting better at this stuff if I do say so myself

 INGREDIENTS: Four pints of $2 Guinness.  And water.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Baby Pac-Man All Grown Up!

Remember this iconic offspring? 

baby_pac_man

Born in 1982, Baby Pac-Man was the third game in a series that didn’t have much life left in it.  Not because of the slow advancements in processing technology or because the games themselves were repetitive (well maybe that’s exactly why video games died back in the day), but just as quickly as arcades burst on the scene, the movement was deemed a fad in 1983 and they went away.  (There were other reasons, too.  Check ’em out here.)

SIDENOTE: That’s why Nintendo dubbed their new console an Entertainment System in 1985.  “Video games” left a sour taste in many people’s mouths.

But that’s neither here nor there.  This is about a dream I had, and it’s about as odd as they get.  According to the Wikipedia entry, Baby Pac-Man was a he.  And he was born to Pac-Man and Mrs. Pac-Man.  But there is no Mrs. Pac-Man, only a Ms.  So for all intents and purposes (or is it intensive purposes?), in my subconscious state, the baby’s a she.  Pink bonnet anyone?

Well, basically, the dream happened to become the foundation for a feminist diatribe.  Baby Pac-Man had grown into a lovely Pac-Woman, but she could not get any respect in the workplace.  People kept calling her Ms. and Miss and that didn’t bother her as much as the fact they wouldn’t call her Pac-Woman rather than Pac-Man.  People also thought she got the job because of who her father was and not on her own merits.  Also, people kept offering her fruits and pretzels.

I don’t remember much else, but I’m sure it all ended swell.  But I do wish there was something about mazes or ghosts, though… 

"Why do I keep getting spam for power pellets?"

"Why do I keep getting spam for power pellets?"

 INGREDIENTS: Two different kinds of Powerade, a late night viewing of Saturday Night Live, and Little Debbie chocolate chip muffins.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Animal Fights – GO!

I must confess.  That header probably indicates way more excitement than my actual dream entailed.  What made this dream stay with me was the fact that it was so unbelievably dumb, it awakened me giggling.  It wasn’t laughing, it wasn’t chortling… it was merely tee-hee.

The fight in question: Blowfish vs. Starfish.

(Sort of) Artistic Representation

(Sort of) Artistic Representation

Now where could this dream have originated in my subconscious?  It could have been from watching this preview:

Not only is Renegade the star, but Deborah/Debbie Gibson is Acting! in this CGI monstrosity as well?  Sign me up!  (You see, Debbie Gibson is my first concert experience and an early crush… *blush*)

How about some other animal fight options?

INGREDIENTS: A sole chicken finger from the bar and lotsa agua.

In My Brain While Sleeping… A Movie About Young Lesbians In Love And Kurt Russell And Goldie Hawn

Hawn-Russell is not a character from Star Wars, Pete! I told you so!

Hawn-Russell is not a character from Star Wars, Pete! I told you so!

With a post title like that, you might start to wonder why my lead picture is Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell.  Allow me to explain…

Last night, I had a dream about a movie starring these two entitled The Organization of L.  What the title referred to, I can only assume, is some subconscious reference to The L Word, due to the story of the “movie.”

SIDENOTE: I was contemplating not posting this as not to give anyone any ideas, but then I realized, “Hey, I don’t have anything else to post today.  Plus, I just thought of a funny way to end it.”

The “story” was this: Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn lived in neighboring brownstones in some major city.  Goldie was a progressive-thinking mother.  For example, she let her son – nay, encouraged him – to play with Barbie dolls as well as well as his G.I. Joe’s.  Her college age daughter was a philosopher and a dreamer… and she has been dating Kurt’s college age daughter through most of the past school year.  

Kurt, on the other hand (yet in a similar way), raised his daughter as major league sports enthusiast and a tomboy, having no other children since his wife passed away.  They’re best friends, and he doesn’t want any boy to ever take her away.

Flash forward to summer break.  Both daughters are back home for the summer, and one night, while  Goldie’s daughter stays the night at Kurt’s house, Kurt’s daughter proposes.

Goldie’s delighted; Kurt’s confused.  Hilarity, sentimentality, and maturity ensue!

I mean, it’s not like the subject of gay marriage is timely or anything?  (Miss California’s scandalous topless pic here.)

A real boob (job)

A real boob (job)

And it’s not like anyone’s interested in the heartaches and heart warmings between two college-age lesbians, right?

All right Pete... I'll give you that.  SamRo and LiLo sound like characters' names in Star Wars.

All right Pete... I'll give you that. SamRo and LiLo sound like characters' names in Star Wars.

INGREDIENTS: Two glasses of organic milk, which after drinking, made me feel oddly drunk.