In My Brain While Sleeping

In My Brain While Sleeping… Was It CostCo Or Sam’s Club? No, It Was Even Better

Posted on by sgottahurt

Where do dreams come from?  Are they subconscious remnants of the days events?  Are they connections to alternate realities?  Are are they just dreams of things you wish that could be?  Oh how I wish this place existed.

Rides, a food warehouse, Rue McClanahan, and a bear ice sculpture... that about sums it up!

It was the largest indoor extravaganza I’ve ever seen dreamed.  The group that I visited the establishment with immediately split into pairs or off on their own as soon as the doors opened.  As I traversed the expansive main aisle, shelves that would have towered over buildings.  Imagine being inside of a Christmas tree.  Imagine Las Vegas in a warehouse.  That was this place.  Anything and everything you could want to buy was within (or just out of) your reach.

As I ambled about, I stumbled into a live trivia game show in the style of Who Wants To Be a Millionaire hosted by none other than the last living Golden Girl, Blanche Devereaux herself, Rue McClanahan.  I participated for a while, until the sound of striking pins was audible in the distance.

In search of the growing cacophony of mechanical wonders and games, I passed a giant ice sculpture of a polar bear.  There was a nameplate, but I didn’t bother reading it at that point.

I headed toward the festival atmosphere, where a rollercoaster, a disco dance floor, a pool hall, a bowling alley, a roller rink, and an arcade all intertwined without any walls or ceilings but those of the warehouse.  I got lost in the glory for so long, that as the day broke through the high windows, I made my way back to the ice sculpture.  The night hold taken its toll, and most of what remained was an icy lump and a fountain puddle.

It was then I finally read the plaque:

INGREDIENTS: Cottage cheese and Mountain Dew… gross.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Battling Princesses

Posted on by sgottahurt

A Princess I Can Get Behind

A Princess I Can Get Behind

Apparently, I’m a thirteen year old girl.  Why else would I have a dream about princesses?  Well, I could understand why I’d have a dream about princesses, but this dream… well, here it goes:

  • There were two Disney-esque princesses – Pink Dress and Light Blue Dress.
  • They were best friends since the were children, and they somehow lived in the same kingdom.  So maybe they weren’t both princesses, but I digress.
  • In their teen years, a rift grew betwixt them (like that verbiage?), and Pink was banished.  Light Blue ruled alone.
  • Pink went away and learned the art of telekinesis*.
  • When she returned to reclaim her position in the kingdom, she used her new power to easily make her way to Light Blue.
  • In the time Pink was gone, Light Blue had built up an army – an army of heavily armed soldiers.  I’m talking like SWAT team style.
  • Pink stood before Light Blue, ready to make peace or make pieces (you see, she had a sword… I should have mentioned that).
  • The soldiers surrounded Pink, ready to fire.
  • Light Blue mocked Pink, stating the futility of her efforts.  She wondered aloud if Pink could stop an onslaught of bullets…
  • Without hesitation, Pink used her telekinesis* to spin the soldiers to face each other and fire.  They dropped like flies.

And I woke up.  At least the princesses were bad asses…

*(What’s the difference between telekinesis and telepathy?  Oh!  Thanks Wikipedia!)

INGREDIENTS: A Tigers win (sniff), a Lions loss (eh), lotsa beer, a couple of burnt hot dogs, and 12 hours sleep.

princess-peach

If you happen to Google Image Search "Princess Peach" or "Princess Toadstool," please enable SafeSearch. You've been warned.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Tweaking Existing Toylines

Posted on by sgottahurt

Those that claim to know me might say that I’m a child at heart.  Those that really know me would call me an overgrown child.  According to my subconscious, I have the mind of a child.  I prefer to say I’m living the 13 year-old me’s dream…

This set of dreams involved a pair of toy collections that I’ve previously mentioned on this post, but were sort of blended together.  It was the Lego Batman video game, and though I haven’t played it in a while, that did not prevent me from dreaming that there was a Batman toy collection that was kind of like a model train town set (Exhibit A) and a bit like Playmobil (Exhibit B).

Tiny figurines representing each of the characters could be purchased, as well as scenery components, and you could assemble a miniature Gotham City similar to Exhibit C.  I guess there’s a toy line called Imaginext that’s kind of like what I envisioned (Exhibit D), but I still imagine(xt) something much darker…

Where the other half of the Lego Batman connection ends up has nothing to do with a Lego town (Exhibit E).  It’s more like the Marvel Legends action figure collection (Exhibit F).  Every Lego set you purchased could be put together (or should I say combined because of course Lego sets are put together) with other Lego sets to make bigger predisposed items.  Again, not like Exhibit E, but like how Galactus is assembled in Exhibit F.

You see, Galactus’ head comes with Professor X, and other pieces of him are packaged along with five other figures in that series.  So if you buy all six figures, you can make Galactus.  That’s how the Lego sets worked…

Never mind.

You’re adults… you don’t understand.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Dating Advice From Brody Jenner

Posted on by sgottahurt

Real Caption: “Don’t tase me, Bro… dy!”  I imagine he said, whilst getting tased.

Another Caption: I am to electric bolts what Perez Hilton is to penis drawings.

(Not So) Artistic Representation

(Not So) Artistic Representation

For whatever reason, prior to his reappearance in the news, I had a dream that was hanging out with Brody Jenner (do I credit him as the son of Bruce Jenner, the step-brother of Kim Kardashian, or a cast member of The Hills?), but not in a Bromance sort of way, though. 

As a self-described ladies’ man (I have no proof he claims this, but I have no doubt he claims this), he was acting as my dating guru.  His advice:

Repeat what you do every hour.

Apparently, when you take a girl on a date, just perform a variation of your actions every hour.  It was like a Philip K. Dick theory about time loops sort of thing.  Believe me, the suggestion made sense in the dream, and it still carries a resonance in my noggin that’s difficult to convey.

Maybe it’s like true knowledge, in the sense that it must be learned and not taught.

Or maybe Brody Jenner can visit you in your dreams, in whatever capacity you prefer…

INGREDIENTS: Leftover Parmesan garlic boneless Buffalo Wild Wings.  Yum.

In My Brain While Sleeping… The Life And Times Of Admiral Ackbar

Posted on by sgottahurt

"I'm your host, Admiral Ollie Ackbar, and this is my sidekick, Ed McMonCalamari."

"I'm your host, Admiral Ollie Ackbar, and this is my sidekick, Ed McMonCalamari."

This was one messed up dream, and it requires a bit of back story.  I don’t know if the back story occurred in the dream, or if my subconscious naturally knew it, but here we go:

Apropos of nothing, including Star Wars, Leno, Letterman, Conan, Kimmel, and Fallon, everyone’s favorite token Mon Calamarian, Admiral Ackbar, hosted the highest-rated late night show in America (think Krusty the Clown).  He was on top of the world, until one night when a prank went bad.

Apparently, a woman was invited on stage for a skit that involved ham, bacon, and other various pork products, such as, um, pork.  She was eight months pregnant, and against the producers wishes, Ackbar went ahead with the bit.  Something about the segment startled her and caused her water to break.  Live.  On national TV.

This lead to him getting banned from everything and everywhere, and he eventually went into the witness protection program when threats on his life seemed credible.  Now back to the present day… dream.

While living under his new identity, he eventually started butting heads with his handlers.  Unable to blend in, he put on an elaborate show which exposed his location.  Soon enough, the credible threat found him.  It ended up being a mechanical pig that looked a bit like this:

(Not So) Artistic Representation

(Not So) Artistic Representation

The roboswine wasn’t the only surprise… 

All along, the reason the government thought Ackbar’s life was in danger was incorrect.  They believed it was because the public was outraged that he caused his audience member to go into early labor.  The real reason?  The pigdroid was upset about the wasted pork products, bitter of the fact that he no longer consisted of pork products.

And the meatless metal meanie never intended to kill Ackbar – he only wanted an apology.  The consummate host obliged and soon was back on top of the world.

INGREDIENTS: A late night helping of regular Oreo’s and a glass of chocolate milk.

In My Brain While Sleeping… A Fair Amount Of Skin, A Little Bit Of Aliens, And A Whole Lot Of Rapture

Posted on by sgottahurt

I’ve never read the book, Left Behind, nor saw the movie starring Kirk Cameron, but I currently would like to think it went something like this dream.  The references are many, so I’ll place them in parentheses to help you keep up.

Our pilots are Goofy.

Our pilots are Goofy.

While travelling back to her home in Australia aboard Mickey Mouse Airlines, the beautiful star of the hit television show Claire Voyant suddenly finds many of the passengers on her plane have disappeared.  Even the pilots!  Luckily, someone with experience playing flight simulators is present and successfully lands the aircraft.

(NOTES: The Australian actress was Carissa Walford, pictured below.  This past week she’s co-hosted G4TV’s Attack of the Show in Olivia Munn’s place, and she stole my heart, although not Olivia’s place in my heart.  Don’t fight ladies… there’s room.)

(BONUS FACT: I’ve loved Aussie accents since the days of Olivia Newton-John in Grease, so that’s two Aussie’s and two Olivia’s.)

(EXTRA REFERENCE: Claire on LOST is Australian, and the TV show in my dream shares her first name.  Weeyud.  <–Australian for Weird.)

Sugar and Spice, but not in that order

Sugar and Spice, but not in that order

Anywalfordiftheylooklikecarissa, the unnamed actress presented in my subconscious by, um, Carissa Walford, finds out that the Rapture has happened, and she’s one of those left behind (full circle).

(NOTES: The Rapture as portrayed in fiction in the Bible usually means good people are sucked up into heaven.  Here’s Wikipedia’s breakdown, a snorefest.  The Rapture as portrayed by Blondie is here.)

Basically, as it turns out, all the good people didn’t get sucked up to heaven.  It was aliens that did the sucking up, and they sucked up all the idiots to give our planet another chance.  They were big fans of Claire Voyant and decided that she should run the world.  Ever the go-getter, she obliges, and the world’s mantra becomes

The geeks shall inherit the Earth!

INGREDIENTS: Three mini-burgers and fries from Applebee’s, plus numerous pourings of brew.

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

Posted on by sgottahurt

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

Posted on by sgottahurt

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

Posted on by sgottahurt

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!

Posted on by sgottahurt

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.