In My Brain While Sleeping… Housecleaning Pucks And Hamburger Docs

I had to verify what my subconscious created in this doozy of a dream, because in another one, my subconscious got it completely all wrong.  It works in the second dream because it makes it kinda funny.  But the fact that I knew a certain fact in the first one so matter-of-, um, -factly kinda impresses me (humility is soooo overrated).

DREAM SCENARIO ONE

I was playing hockey.  It wasn’t a professional game, but professionals were there.  (This entire dream happened out of guilt for skipping pick-up hockey last night.  In my defense, two friends were not going… I just hope they had enough people… curse you guilt!)  Anyhattrick, one of the pros approached me at the end and said, “I heard your house could use a good spring cleaning.”  I told him, “Yeah, it could,” and then wondered who he’d been talking to.  That’s when he dropped this deal, “I’d do it.  For five bucks.”  How could I resist?  So I handed him five bucks and made arrangements, not even thinking he could be scamming me for five bucks.  And he showed up!  To clean!  The player in question:

"Pretend the puck is dust, and the stick is a broom... that's how I'm gonna sweep, eh."

"Pretend the puck is dust, and the stick is a broom... that's how I'm gonna sweep, eh."

Martin Brodeur, goalkeeper for the New Jersey Devils.  I didn’t know I knew him, or his position, or that he was Canadian, yet my subconscious did (I’m not 100% on whether I knew he was a Devil, but I want to say he was wearing their color scheme).  In double-checking my brain, some tidbits I learned about him:

  • He’s played for the New Jersey Devils his entire NHL career. (I like franchise guys, and the NHL is full of them.)
  • He’s three shutouts short of breaking Detroit Red Wing Terry Sawchuck’s record of 103 games. (FYI – Sawchuck’s mask was the basis for Jason’s mask in Friday the 13th.)
  • He holds the second place record (behind Patrick Roy) for the most wins, which he’ll inevitably pass provided he stays healthy.
  • He holds the record for the most wins in a regular season (48, in 2006-7).
  • He’s the only NHL goalie to score a game winning goal.

There are many more.  And I might have to add that I could be a fan now.  What?  Don’t look at me like that.  I’m not saying I like him better than my beloved Red Wings… well, maybe Chris Osgood if he doesn’t start picking up.

DREAM SCENARIO TWO

I was eating at a McDonald’s (like I often do?) when a commotion started at the register.  The friends with me initially ignored it, but when the buzz of excitement started spreading, people were rushing to the front counter.  I overheard a girl say, “The stars of Top Gun are here doing a promotion!”  So the group I was with got mixed up in the glee and followed.  I distinctly remember not even thinking Tom Cruise would be there.  I knew it would be Iceman (Val Kilmer) and Goose (Anthony Edwards).  Turned out the rumors were wrong.  Instead of getting this duo:

I could have cropped out the beer, but I enjoyed the beer being there. Existentialism for today.

I could have cropped out the beer, but I enjoyed the beer being there. Existentialism for today.

I got this duo:

Dr. Ross and Dr. Green inda house! (But not on "House.")

Dr. Ross and Dr. Green inda house! (But not on "House.")

 Except they looked like this:

Uh... yeah...

Uh... yeah...

 Of course, everyone was excited to see George Clooney, and under normal circumstances I would have been, too.  But Anthony Edwards?  How often is he out in public?  This was my chance to pitch a script in which he would have the starring role.  The script entitled “Continuum” was based on a dream I once had that featured Anthony Edwards (how meta).  I told it to him while Clooney took orders from dining room patrons, but I figured he was listening to our conversation and would possibly produce/direct the film.  The only catch – the script wasn’t written.  Edwards would be in town for two more days, so I’d have to write it in that time.  That’s when Clooney chimed in, “It could be the greatest script of all time… or the crappiest.”  (I knew he was eavesdropping!)

And that was that.  To sum up: Martin Brodeur cleaned my house for five bucks, and I had two days to write a script for Anthony Edwards to star in.  I have no idea what any of that means.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Three Kinds Of Dream Chases

Last night was one of those “I can’t wait to get to bed” nights.  I was out past 3am, which according to daylight savings time was really 4am.  The dreams I had in store for me all had to do with chasing, and well… they were good, bad, and ugly.

THE GOOD CHASE (CAREER)

Google him sometime.  Tons of funny pics.

Google him sometime. Tons of funny pics.

Somehow I managed to get backstage at the Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien.  There I met his four writers.  That was all he had.  That was all he could trust.  After the show, he came back to meet me.  One of the writer’s had suggested that he’d take me on board as a writer, based on this very blog you’re reading (there’s no humility in dreams, I guess).  He said he’d take a chance on me, but first I’d have to pass a test.  What happened next primarily included the four writers, Conan, and myself playing all kinds of picnic games in the park.  I passed (whatever the test was… maybe to have fun?) and was acknowledged as a staff writer.  I was nervous at first about creating new ideas, but once I started mixing it up by ad-libbing with the others, I knew I had found home.

THE BAD CHASE (GOSSIP STORY)

Google Paramore. Not as many funny pics as Conan.

Google Paramore. Not as many funny pics as Conan.

I don’t know if it was while I was working on the show or not, but there was a rumor going around that a musician did something bad.  No one would say what the musician did, or who it was.  After much deliberation (was I a gossip site reporter?), I found out it was Hayley Williams, lead singer of the rock band Paramore.  I never found out what she did, though.

THE UGLY CHASE (DON’T LET HIM GET ME!)

Can I stop dreaming about this please?

BONUS: DOUCHEBAG CHACE

I don't know for sure if Chace Crawford is a DB, but... yeah, he probably is.

I don't know for sure if Chace Crawford is a DB, but... yeah, he probably is.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Shoe Car Shoo!

My busy week has lead to restless nights.  Last night was no exception.  I could not get comfortable (until I was supposed to waking up, ‘natch), and any dream of computer work instantly brought me back to reality.  I even scared myself in the mirror when I was up hitting snooze (in case you either forgot or didn’t know – I keep my alarm clock in my bathroom far away from my button-happy trigger fingers).

Aside from the IT nightmares, I kept having dreams about these:

Wonderful for convering unsightly cankles.

Wonderful for covering unsightly cankles.

Except they were giant-sized.  And they had wheels.  Because they were cars.  Between every twist and turn in my pursuit for some decent rest included a dream about the return of the Shoe Cars.

Does it have a shoe horn?

Does it come with a shoe horn?

It was as if they had existed once before, like when the new Volkswagen Beetle was released.  My uncles and I were kicking back beers on my grandma’s porch (who knows why this scenario), and talking about how you never see Shoe Cars anymore.  Sure, you’d see this all the time (yeah, right):

Also available in the OsCar compact.

Also available in the OsCar compact.

But the Shoe Car?  As soon as we mentioned it, a new one, colored blue, passed right by.  We clanked beer bottles, proud of witnessing the return, or for the sheer luck of catching sight of one.  Throughout the rest of the night, that stupid Shoe Car wouldn’t stay away.  I might have even seen one outside the window in one of my computer repair visions.

Undreamed of... until now.

Undreamed of... until now.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Gash Monsters, Flying Pucks, And Robert Redford

I had a series of strange dream flashes recently.  Here’s the gist of them:

1) The Gash Monster.  This one is a little messed up.  The opening of the dream started like a pinhole fade-in… except the pinhole was a square.  As the blackness pulled away, it revealed a creature comprised of eyes that looked just like this one below: 

(Kinda) Artistic Representation

(Kinda) Artistic Representation

It was covered in gashes (take that word choice however you may), and in every slit (same goes for that word choice) rested a beady, blinking eye.  The beast was the size of a couch and shaped like a boar.  Its snorting (and endless staring) woke me up immediately.

2) The Floating Puck.  In this dream, there was a ten foot cushioned, hockey puck-looking thing in a play area.  Some kids were floating above it, but I thought they were flying by jet packs like we’re used to seeing (even though I saw none):

In case you couldn't put "jet" and "pack" together in your mind.

In case you couldn't put "jet" and "pack" together in your mind.

When they started doing flips, it freaked me out.  I was worried they’d crash and smash their heads.  As it turned out, this puck-thing blasted air which made everyone virtually weightless.  At the point I finally stood on it, I had to jump to get started.  I lifted a bit higher with each jump, but I was too heavy for it and slowly descended back to the ground.  For whatever reason, this made me wake up, laughing out loud.

3) The Giveaway.  This is maybe even stranger than the other two dreams.  I was in my basement doing laundry, and Robert Redford was also there, going through all of his old awards.  He was pulling out all kinds of trophies and throwing them in the trash – even his Oscars.  The only one he wanted to keep was from Butch Cassidey and the Sundance Kid (for which he wasn’t even nominated).  He told me he’d give me his Academy Award from The Sting (he didn’t win, but at least he was nominated).  When he reached into the box, he pulled out a toy of the Gash Monster.

Like this Star Wars creature, but not at all.

Like this Star Wars creature, but not at all.

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.

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.

________________________________________________________

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.

In My Brain While Waking Up… Sweet Jehovah! A Demon Dog Is In My Hallway!

I’m not sure exactly why I do this, but I think it had something to do with me staying up too late and not waking up for work to get money so I could stay out too late or something, but I keep my alarm clock in the bathroom.

Now the only reason I’m mentioning this is because this morning, on my stumbling walk from my bedroom to the bathroom to hit snooze (as per my snooze addiction – the only reason I set my alarm for a Saturday morning), my t-shirt scared the piss out of me.

As I bumped the doorway at an angle I usually don’t (I often bump walls and doorways because I don’t open my eyes much), I spotted the corner of my black tee from last night in the hallway and thought it was a Demon Dog from Ghostbusters.  Woke me up instantly.

37am between snoozes - yes.

At 9:37am between snoozes - yes.

Although it actually got my heart racing, I still hit the snooze bar on my alarm clock and laid back down, making sure to change the location and placement of the image-inducing cotton product.

What finally fully awakened me was my doorbell.  And the door knocking.  And the doorbell again.  Oh yeah, there it is – interior door knocking now.

It must have snowed last night, was my first thought, and the incessant attention seeking noise was my neighbor kid wanting to shovel the walk, because sure-as-shit, the area Jehovah’s just ain’t that persistent.  They politely knock, stick a pamphlet in the door handle, and move along, proselytizing.  And if it was anyone I knew, they would have called in tandem with the racket, and my cellular remained silent.  I checked out the window, and yup – two inches of snow on the ground.

Sure I could shovel it, I thought.  But it’s going to melt anyway.

Bonus Saturday morning cartoon:

Extra bonus weekday syndicated cartoon:

(via Worst Cartoons Ever)

In My Brain While Sleeping… The Future Is Fast And Its Music Is Questionable

The dream took place in a future world where time moved even faster than now.  People spoke in short two phrase/syllable sentences to communicate.

I was asking a girl to go to a concert with me, and it went something like this:

Me – “You me?”

Her – “Am gone.”

Me – “Hear muse?”

Her – “Who?”

Me – “Wi-Phi.”

Her – (she paused, but not for long) “O.K.”

Now, you may be wondering who is Wi-Phi in this future world.  Answer:

wilson_phillips

"Hold on for one more century..."

But they looked a little more like this:

girlsaloud

I never remember... should I take the red pill or blue?

In My Brain While Sleeping… Drugs, YouTube, Annoying Hosts, And Soup

Okay… I wasn’t going to post this dream, but it hasn’t stopped me before.  You may wish that I’d stuck to my guns, but I misfired.

The bulk of the dream consisted of the introduction of a new drug called something like Avilify.  Basically, by taking this pill daily, your body maintained a homeostatic temperature that kept you comfortable whether you were in 110° F or -10° F (sorry, but I don’t know Celsius).  Another feature of the product was you only needed six hours of sleep per day.  You couldn’t sleep more and you couldn’t sleep less.

avilify-copy1

Ask your doctor all about it! Because we sure won't tell you what it does in the commercials!

While this is all fine and dandy as far as dreams go, the part I’m leary to bring up is… well, Ryan Seacrest and I became friends.

How that came to be was I was the head of marketing for Avility, and he was to be the spokesman.  We ended up making YouTube videos of him mocking celebrity advertisements, like the film Crazy People did.

Example: 

ryancampbell-copy

What my Grandma used to make me eat.

In effect, his popularity soared even more, and I made crap loads of money.  Avilify changed my life!

In My Brain While Sleeping… Friday The 13th Reboot (My Version)

Hello.  Sean here.  (So am I.)

Oh yeah, that’s my brain.  Say hi.  (Hi.)

In the midst of my many snoozes, it occurred to me that the new Friday the 13th remake isn’t sticking to its source material.  (How’s that?) 

In the original film, Jason Voorhees was not the killer.  His mother was.  (Should you have put a spoiler alert?  Someone may not have wanted to know this.)  She avenged his alleged drowning while in the hands of irresponsible, sex-crazed teens.  Starting withthe second film, he avenged the death of his mother.  In the third film, he starts wearing the hockey goalie mask (it’s based on one from the 50’s Detroit Red Wings).

If this film is a sequel, it’s ignoring the last few films in the series, whereas if it’s a remake, it’s ignoring the first film.  If it’s a reboot, then how does Jason come to be?  Well my dreams may have found the answer.

He's such a cut up.

He's such a cut up.

  • The first dream between snoozes involved a golf cart on a log raft that tipped over and sunk into Crystal Lake.
  • The second dream involved a girl crossing the lake with a boy, and then boy jumped out and swam to shore.  More ridiculous versions of this continued until my conscious (and subconscious) met…
  • (NOTE: I was going to reference as many versions of the dream as there were sequels, but quite frankly, they were pretty repetitive… just like the films!)
  • In the final dream that woke me up, Jason Voorhees came to be like this:

On one side of Crystal Lake was a fat camp, and on the other side was a sports camp.  A chubbier girl would meet with one of the guys and they would get it on in the sports camp.  The guy was a real dick and he’d laugh to all his friends about how she keeps coming back for more.  Through the summer, she loses no weight, and in fact puts on more… because she’s pregnant.  When she reveals this to the boy, he breaks up with her.  All his friends sabotage her boat while they argue.  She asks him for a keepsake and he gives her one.  At the center of Crystal Lake, her boat becomes waterlogged.  As she sinks, welcoming her death, she clings to her keepsake – the boy’s goalie mask.  Jason is the supernatural son she never had (?) and he seeks revenge against anyone who visits his lake, while wearing his daddy’s face mask.  The end.  (Or is it the beginning?)

Tah dah!  (Tah dah!)

What a weird dream, btw.  (Any time!)

In My Brain While Sleeping… Sex Dream Fail

I’m not that lucky in life when it comes to the ladies, so you’d think my subconscious would make up for it at night, right?

I was living in L.A. again, working at a super-sized version of Best Buy that felt a little more like a Costco, so maybe it was at a Costco that had a Best Buy-styled electronics department.  Anywarehouse… it was before the holidays, and I was helping a woman locate a copy of “Little Miss Sunshine.”

As I rounded the discount bins, I spotted her:

Gosh, golly, gee, she sure is purdy

Gosh, golly, gee, she sure is purdy

I made some comment that the woman I was helping was looking for one of Amanda Bynes’ movies (she wasn’t in “Little Miss Sunshine,” but see my previous posts about my failing mental functions), and she perked up and walked right up to me.  Well, she sort stumbled toward me.

She smiled that winning grin: “You’re hot.”

I was taken aback by her candor.  “Well, so are you.”

The shopper reminded me that she needed to find that DVD for a Christmas present.

Amanda stepped stumbled closer to me.  It became clear to me she was more than a little tipsy, and since she’s seems like such a sweet girl in real-life, I’ll sugar coat her speak from here on out: “I wanna fudge you.”

The woman’s jaw dropped.  Who knows what my face looked like.  She sidled up to me and slipped her arm around my waist, resting her head on my shoulder.  “Will you take me home?”

The woman rushed off to complain to my manager, and my manager being the awesome manager he must have been (or maybe he was a complete apple), assessed the situation and sent me home.  So I resided to the fact of driving Ms. Bynes back to her place.  As we made our way to my vehicle, she announced that her mother and brother were with her, and I’d also have to drive them.

En route to her abode, she stared at me from the passenger seat, hazy and wobbling.  Her mother and brother argued in the back seat.  Upon arriving at their apartment building, we ascended a wide spiraling staircase to find that they had no furniture – only matresses spread out all over like some heroin den.  She invited me inside.

At this point, I already began the betrayal of myself, and sought out to only get her cell phone number as she lead me to her Serta perfect sleeper.  “Yeah, I’ll have to get your number so we can hang out sometime.”

As she rested on her springed laurels, she started saying a string of numbers.

“That’s too many for a phone number.”

“I’d put good money on it that your better than Justin.”

“Justin?”

“Timberlake.  I bet you fudge better.”  (NOTE: That sounds grosser than it should.)

“How about I give you my number, and then you can call my cell and I’ll have your number.”  I fiddled with my mobile and started reciting my ten digits.

She stood up and leaned her back against the wall.  She slipped the strap off one of her shoulders revealing her right muffin.

“I should really get going.”

And I woke up.  Brain, why do you forsake me even when I’m sleeping!?

INGREDIENTS: Four tall Coors Lights and half of a three-day old cajun crust pizza.