To Sleep, Perchance to Vote

One of my dreams Saturday night included a midget doing yoga. I don’t know what it meant, but I suddenly feel inclined to vote for McCain.

Dream: A Muddy Little Christmas With The Zombies

Hold onto your hats for this one—I am going to see this boat my grandmother bought. It's a fairly sizable fishing boat. Me, Melissa, and my family are all going. We get there and the boat resides in this football field–sized swimming pool. We get on and just tool around the pool for an hour or so. The pool is also filthy with leaves and dirt everywhere and is in the middle of nowhere. After that fun, Melissa and I head back to this house we have on the plains. We have to get back before dark to board it up because the "zombies" are coming. They do come, but don't get in. The next day, we go to my parents' house to find that Melissa's mom has left Christmas presents for us in the mud in the back yard, by my old tire swing. Also, our cat is on a leash and is trying to break free. Again, we rush home because the zombies are coming.

Dream: Doppelganger Gets The Mail

So I had this dream the other night in which I move into a new house and creepy things start to happen—objects being moved around, disembodied voices, all of the usual stuff you hear about. But then I look out the window one day and see MYSELF getting the mail!!! In the dream, this is absolutely terrifying, but it seems far less so in waking reality. In fact, once you got past the uncomfortable, possibly demonic nature of it, who wouldn't want another them to get the mail, get the paper, and maybe do a little yard work?

Of course, when I woke up, I almost had a heart attack because the Christmas stocking I had hung the night before looked like someone's arm peeking around the corner of the bedroom door. Maybe my OWN arm, with the mail!

Another Dream? You Know It!

I am in some sort of rogue government medical facility, possibly in some other country. I have been captured for trespassing. My foot is badly wounded, and I am chained to the wall. Across the room, a doctor is sharpening a very long, thin blade. His henchman is smoothing out one of the edges. The doctor begins walking toward me with the sword and breaks off a piece of it from the top. He gets closer and is swinging it at me. I start telling him that I will tell him anything he wants to know, just not to cut me. He stops as he gets right near my face and suddenly drops a large spider out of his hand, onto my wounded foot. He says, "The venom from this spider will heal the wound." I physically feel the "bite" and wake up immediately.

Instead of Liberal Arts...

I dreamt last night that I was back in college. Instead of majoring in Liberal Arts, I decided to do something else for the first 2 years to help me figure out what to focus on...

I sat in my boxers in a big, red, plastic tub full of water and slid around campus in it. Just slid all over the place. Everyone thought I was so cool because nobody else was doing it.

Then I went into a park and started a conversation with another student. He asked "Are those scorpions?" Turns out we were both covered in tiny brown scorpions. I screamed and screamed and woke up drenched in sweat.

So just like that, I go from the coolest guy on campus to being covered in stinging scorpions.

Dream: Book Cloning

So I have a dream in a drunken haze of my friend Brendan's (Dr. Strangehug) birthday. It starts out with science granting us a marvelous new way of copying books. It's a huge vat of clear goo. You submerge the book you have into it, and 20 minutes later, an exact copy of the book is created next to it, except it's on that crappy computer paper from the 1980s and it's stapled together. I say, "Cool!" when I see this happen, but the person teaching me is more skeptical, saying, "Yeah, well, it ain't so great. If you don't let it dry all the way, the ink smears."

Then there is a campaign to stop book piracy using this method. As if kids downloading the new Justin Timberlake song are gonna start running off copies of Moby Dick to screw the evil book industry. At the end, I remember thinking, "What if I put something ELSE in the gel?"

Photo copyright www.central.tafe.wa.edu.au

Dream Fragment

I'm joining Pat's band on rhythm guitar to play for an Elsevier marketing conference. Pat comes to visit me to see if I'm ready because the gig's a week away. I'm nervous as hell, and he's trying to give me a pep talk.

Suddenly, we're standing in a forest and Pat tells me to plug my guitar into a large, nearby boulder because he likes the way it resonates. Then, he rubs dirt and mud all over the boulder and tells me that that'll help open up the sound.

It's in the Way That You Snooze It

Last night's dream:

Some chick was doing a trick pool shot in the gutter of Haddon Avenue. She used the pool cue to gently push a car forward so she could get to the cue ball. The shot included one of the pool balls rolling along an overhanging tree branch about ten feet up and falling into the gutter. Eventually, two of the balls rolled about twenty feet along the curb and dropped into the sewer (although I think only one was supposed to).

The shot wasn't a complete success, but it was impressive nonetheless, and I was the first spectator to applaud.

She was pretty cute. I should've asked for her number.

Yep, Another Dream

I can see this blog quickly becoming a dream-theory blog, but this is a good one involving another contributor to this site. It begins with me going to Boston with Randy and our friend Brendan.

On the way, Randy explains that, for extra money, he has gotten a temp job at the hotel at which we are staying. I nod approvingly but secretly think, "Man, that is a horrible idea." We arrive, and it's in a, should we say, not-so-nice neighborhood. But, we're here and it's time to hit some Irish pubs! Not so fast. Randy is immediately assigned front-desk duty and though he tries to fake his way through it, he double charges us for the room (including himself!) and then doesn't know how to make those keycards for us. So we just sit in the lobby. I say, "I'm going out for a walk." BIG mistake; it is getting dark. On my walk, I encounter a strange group of people who surround me and tell me this bizarre story about being lost and how not to go down to the river (pointing down a shadowy alley that leads to the harbor) because "someone had hurt (them) there; the children ran away screaming."

I am significantly rattled by this and return to the hotel, but Randy and Brendan are gone. A note stating "Drinking" is on the door of my room, which I take to be from them. I go out AGAIN. Now it is pitch black and I am with a larger group of people who look like tourists. A woman (with 5 o'clock shadow) is asking for money through a fence. She starts telling me about people who had approached her and told her not to go near the river. I laugh and say, "Oh, ha, that's a scam! Don't give them any money." Then I fly away. Yes, fly. A recurring "power" of mine in my dreams since childhood is flight. I've figured it out, and no one else has. It's like treading water, where I push off on the air with my legs and stay airborne that way. I really should try this in real life sometime. I think I'll do that now.

EDIT: Just tried. Couldn't fly.

Revolutionary Dream

Just woke up from a doozy:

I was George Washington, including tri-cornered hat. (I played him in our second-grade series of plays for the Bicentennial—what a disaster; perhaps more on that later). I was assembling the Continental Army for a march to Trenton to confront the Redcoats. Now, Trenton is approximately 30 miles from here; in reality, I'd be happy to be able to walk to the nearest Wawa. The odds against our rebel army were long, as evidenced by the fact that as I waited for their elevator to reach the ground floor, I could hear them whooping it up inside—not the sound of minds prepared for battle. I had ordered assembly at 8:00; now many minutes past that, I solemnly muttered, "I said eight o'clock..."—they didn't seem to feel any remorse. (Why was I, Commanding General of the Army, muttering?) Another potential problem with my army was that, when they stepped out of the elevator, they were donning red uniforms—the logistical headaches of which I need not elaborate on.

After the army came to attention (there were only about a dozen soldiers, including women, and although now magically dressed in uniforms other than red coats, they looked anything but soldiers), I brandished my sword and began a short but moving speech concerning the dangers of what we were about to undertake. My voice was not my own. At one point, I declared that if anyone wishes to now back out of this rebellion, "I will not think less of him." Instantly, the heavy-set soldier to the extreme right, next to the wall between the pair of elevator doors, passed out, sliding along the wall to the floor. Strange thing is, his quick demise much resembled that of portly, wheezing "Dr. Swanson," the hypnotherapist who falls over dead in Office Space, but he was dressed just like portly, wheezing "Dr. Philipse" from Sleepy Hollow. (Probably just as well—how would he have made a 30-mile march?) Anway, my baritone speech concluded with, "...then let us tell our enemy to get out of our land," and I began leading my troops through the lobby, at which point, I woke up.

Last night, I brought a bottle of wine to the hosts of a Chanukkah party I attended. I'd acquired the bottle at Crossing Vineyards and Winery, which is located in Washington Crossing, PA, approximately a mile from the spot where Washington led his men across the Delaware, en route to attacking the Hessians at Trenton. So that explains the scenario. At the party, we watched several "YouTube" videos, including a comically redone trailer of Office Space, which included the snippet of Dr. Swanson keeling over. Another video was "Ten Things I Hate About Commandments," a re-edited trailer of The Ten Commandments that combined the two films (from the makers of Must Love Jaws). I believe that was the source of my deep voice and final heroic line, much in the spirit of Charlton Heston's "Let my people go!"

What I can't figure out is, where do all of the latkes I ate last night fit in?

Dream

So, I am in NYC, going to a recording session. I am also supposed to pick up a car I had left there, but I am driving another one, so I am not sure how I am going to get both back. I come out of the session and the car I came with is gone. The scenario with me picking up the old car seems to be abandoned by this point, for some reason. Are you following? I have no car. Anyway, I go down a side street and into a row home, where there are some people I apparently know. They are making me uncomforable, so I decide to leave. As I am leaving, they say, "Oh, you woke up baby Danny!" and I look down into a playpen where there is an old woman crying like a baby and speaking in a little boy's voice. I am horrified but slip out, acting cool about it.