weird dream

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… 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.

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

Posted on by sgottahurt

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

Posted on by sgottahurt

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… Animal Fights – GO!

Posted on by sgottahurt

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

Posted on by sgottahurt

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.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Housecleaning Pucks And Hamburger Docs

Posted on by sgottahurt

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… Shoe Car Shoo!

Posted on by sgottahurt

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

Posted on by sgottahurt

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

Posted on by sgottahurt

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.