weird dream

In My Brain While Sleeping… What Happens In Vegas, Stays Up In The Air

Posted on by sgottahurt

As it turned out, I could fly.  Normally, in dreams where I can fly, I have to flap my arms like wings.  This was the first dream I can recall where I willed my body into flight.

And I wasn’t alone.  There was a small troop of us that possessed this ability.

It was a little bit of this...

...mixed with the awe of this.

We lived in Las Vegas, and rather than use our abilities for the benefit of humanity, our leader – let’s call him Jimmy – devised a way for us to make some serious cash.

Rather than put on a garish stage production, Jimmy approached the big wigs that were opening a new casino, and he pitched a live interactive event.  He worked up plans that involved installing a pulley system throughout the casino that would be operated in the upper floors.

The concept – angelic beings (he would never call us actual angels) would fly around the casino, serving drinks, performing security, etc.

The big wigs bit, and our troop got the gig.  Millions upon millions of dollars were made, and us “angelic beings” were the talk of the town.

The scam was this – we may have had pulley cords tethered to us, but we pretty much flew around the casino wherever we wanted.  Nobody could understand our maneuverability, but that’s why people would spend big bucks to see us.

One day, as my friend – let’s call her Sapphron – and I were out at an expensive restaurant on the strip, a shiny green suited, big sunglasses wearing, fuzzy striped hat adorned man joined our table with his scantily clad female friend.  He bought us drinks and brought up our operation.

I thought he was really nice, but Sapphron caught on instantly.  He was simply a pimp trying to get his ho’s into our aerial act, as a new form of marketing.

By the point I believed Sapphron (apparently I was very naive), the pimp had already spent tons of money on us for the night, and he was asking to check out our facilities.  Sapphron and I obliged out of guilt for accepting all the food and drinks he bought that night, or out of fear for our lives.

We took him back to the casino to meet Jimmy.  We didn’t know what was going to happen.  As the two met, the tension in the room rose exponentially.  I looked at Sapphron, at the ho, at the pimp, then at Jimmy.  Then I woke up.

Sucks to leave an ending up in the air, eh?

In My Brain While Sleeping… Fictional Character’s Children Don’t Share

Posted on by sgottahurt

30 Rock, oh 30 Rock, how much do I love thee?  Apparently enough to dream about you on more than one occasion.

Or at least this guy:

Tracy Morgan and Tracy Jordan

In this particular brain drain, I was spending Christmas with the Jordan family.  I had bought Tracy Jr. a guitar, and I couldn’t wait for him to open it up so I could play it.

Once dinner was finished, he opened it and I helped put the guitar together (because for some reason, assembly was required).

Somebody 30 Rocked this guitar.

Once I tuned the six-stringer, I readied to strum.  But he wouldn’t let me.  Even after I reminded him that I bought it for him, and that I put it together, he still shook his head, arms outreached.

I handed it over, sort of peeved, and woke up.

DREAM INGREDIENTS: A late night helping of pizza sticks… and an episode of 30 Rock.

In My Brain While Sleeping… A Two-Headed Telepathic Gorilla, For Starters

Posted on by sgottahurt

Ever have the woman you love turned into a cougar jaguar?

Not this kind of jaguar, but I wish.

And on top of that, she couldn’t understand you (and of course, you couldn’t understand her), so then you had to employ this guy:

"A GoGorilla"

A double-noggined telepathic silverback gorilla that could speak English in my brain while sleeping.  He would pluck my thoughts and put them in my lady, and vice versa.

(SIDENOTE: Apparently he could speak jaguar… or he was pulling a fast one on me, because the thing is that no matter what my girlfriend said through Mr. DeBergerac, she still acted an awful lot like a jaguar.  Especially when we were alone together and she’d try to kill and eat me.)

So in honor of my lady-love, here’s a long distance dedication:

No wait, that’s a panther!  I’m sorry honey!  I’ll never look at another black cat!

I mean after her...

In My Brain While Sleeping… Betty White As A Bad Guy

Posted on by sgottahurt

I’ve had a plethora of strange dreams leading up to the new year, but just as the memories of yesteryear have faded, so did those dreams by the time I (finally) woke up.  This one stuck with me.

"Welcome to My 'Ool - Notice There's No... Room"

There was a party going on at a castle, and I was keeping the free drinks coming (of course).  A volleyball game was starting in the pool, but it was packed to the gills (pun!), and my interest in playing was circling down the drain (pun?).

Sure, it was only over-filled to volley for complete pool possession (the winning side got to play), but I’d already made my way indoors.  I found a doorway that lead to a small underground city.  It was kind of like the old game Doom…

With less monsters, and better graphics

…but more medieval, like a Renaissance Festival.

That's about the right amount of monsters

I was creeped out by the panhandlers and the merchants, so I returned upstairs to hit the free bar again (of course).  It was upon reaching the inner sanctum of the castle that I stumbled upon an authentic pub.  Or at least it was like a hotel version of one.

Aaron Eckhart and Anne Hathaway were there... for some reason

All of the sudden, from a hidden door behind the bar, Betty White emerged, looking like a (foreign) assassin.  Or I guess it could have been a foreign assassin disguised to look like Betty White.

"Thank you for being a fiend..."

She grabbed Anne Hathaway and ducked back into the door.  As Aaron Eckhart pursued, I finished my drink and followed.  We were back in the caverns, but they looked more like the tunnel that bridges (pun!) Detroit and Windsor, than the dingy dungeon from before.

This is an old photo.

Except there were copious amounts of bees and rats.

This is a doctored photo.

Aaron was terrified of the bees and rats and was ready to turn back, when a chain of shopping carts started to roll at him.  He held onto a bar above us as long as possible, but then he gave in a rode on top of them.  I ended up doing the same because I wanted to recreate the only good scene my favorite scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

"It's mine cart now!" - dialogue cut from the final film

I caught up with Aaron and we decided to look for Anne.  Then I woke up.

DREAM INGREDIENTS: I’m not sure.  But this is the second dream I’ve recently had involving one of the last surviving Golden Girls…

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… It Has To Be Better Than Crystal Pepsi, Right?

Posted on by sgottahurt

This dream happened to be a spanning, time looping dream à la Timecrimes, an interesting if not perfect Spanish film involving, um, time looping.

I was on a college campus trying to kill my other selves, contemplating the dynamics of it.  Am I the proper incarnation?  Can all the versions coexist?  Am I committing suicide if I exterminate an alternate me?  (Heavy stuff for a sleeping noggin.)

Anyexistentialism, the entire episode finished at the student center bookstore which had a McDonald’s in it.  The banner above the Golden Arches read, “Now serving Subway subs and Pepsi Golden!”

I was excited to order a Pepsi Golden, thinking it was beer.  It was just yellow Pepsi.

And in case you were wondering what it tasted like – carbonated cake batter.

pepsi_golden

DREAM INGREDIENTS: Back-to-back soccer games… and four pints of Guinness

In My Brain While Sleeping… Other People’s Dreams

Posted on by sgottahurt

When I’m sleeping, I don’t particularly enjoy being in my own mind. 

I’ve recently dreamt…

  • my alarm clock was yelling at me
  • I was on trial for drug possession in Jamaica
  • I was in an old Kmart eatery with a bunch of stuffed shirts discussing how fantastic the original British version of The Office was
oldkmart

This has nothing to do with the picture, but I used to think Martinizing was pronounced Martini-Zing!

What I would like to know is why am I having other people’s dreams lately?

client

Not that kind of client. Thank Tron.

It’s been completely from another person’s perspective, and not in the way that “it’s me/not me.”  I’ve been other people I know interacting with me – my family, my friends.  The strangest, by far, was when I was one of my clients.

None of this is particular fascinating, I’ll admit, but it reminded me of the opening scene of Richard Linklater’s Slacker.  He’s actually the guy in the cab explaining his theory on dreams and where they come from.  It’s more in relation to the regular “it’s me/not me” flights of the subconscious, than of the “completely being someone else” variety.  Maybe if he ever gets to Slacker 2: The Awakening, he’ll have my answers then.

slacker

(Click image to jump to video)

In My Brain While Sleeping… I Died?!

Posted on by sgottahurt

blockbuster

Wow! What a difference! (In the people's sizes...)

This dream had me in some seafaring town, like Jaws’ Amity, Lost Boys’ Santa Carla, or Dogma’s New Jersey boardwalk.  I was discussing with some friends the prices that Blockbuster pays for movies.  One that came up:

bones-snoopdogg

A Hallowizzle Classizzle

Late at night, on that very same pier, a creature as silent as the night (or at least quieter than the crashing waves), accosted me.  With its razor-sharp claws and fangs, it dismembered me.  I didn’t fight back.  In fact, I was rather accepting of my fate.

I remember coming back to awareness, but by this point, I was merely bones picked clean of their meat, buried beneath the wood planks.

Still sentient, I was fully aware of the conversations being held above about the Blockbuster store and the amount of rentals they needed to make their money back on each movie.  Nobody seemed to miss me.

I THOUGHT YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO DIE IN YOUR DREAMS!

In retrospect, I’m wondering if my subconscious was really thinking about the plot of this film:

Well, not the whole plot...

Well, not the whole plot...

Or maybe it was about my hidden concerns about the future of Blockbuster itself.  Ha!  Of course it’s not that!

INGREDIENTS: The usze… beer.

(SIDENOTE: Does the usze work as a shortened version of the usual?  Would the ush be better?)

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… 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.