Over the years, I have had friends tell me about their crazy dreams and I am starved to hear their tales. One time, a friend told me that he dreamt that he was playing keyboards for Prince, only to end up in a bitter argument with the diminutive man, because my friend decided to eat a ham sandwich, while playing the keyboard during a massive concert. Another friend recently told me how she and her Boston Terrier, Obie, were having to escape and fight an evil duck...an evil duck...an EVIL FUCKING DUCK. Now, please tell me that the idea of a woman and her small dog escaping from and ultimately forced to take down a "evil duck" is boring. Holy shit, that got me frothing at the mouth. When exactly did the duck turn evil, or was it just born that way, as is common with all water fowl? Did the duck talk? Why did it have it in for her and Obie? I could have gone off on this one for ages, but unfortunately I was laughing way too hard to ask any other questions.
My own dreams, when I remember them, tend to be on the insane side as well. When I am not having anxiety-filled work dreams--such as being forced to return to KFC after 20+ years and attempting to remember the combination of the floor safe--my dreams lean towards random acts of heroism that I have never come close to performing in actual real life situations. If I am not storming up a rain-soaked hillside to combat an alien infestation, I could be found running through a nearly abandoned Santa Barbara saving people from the zombies that have overrun the city.
One of my all time favorites has to be the one from about fifteen years ago. In the dream, I possessed the super powers of flight, strength and invulnerability, and I had a major beef with an evil multinational corporation that was set to destroy the American way of life and only I stood in its path; the company happened to be the very music store chain that I was currently working for. Now, I am nearly certain that the music store was nowhere near a multinational level, and although some of their pathetic employee codes of conduct were ridiculous and their mission statement was surely a joke and a half, I doubt that it was a threat to my country and the only way of life at risk there was the one in my own dumb-ass possession.
That said, in the dream, I had come across information that the corporation had recently created a space station that possessed a weapon of terrible importance, but of a nature unknown. It was up to me to determine the exact nature of this weapon and either take it or destroy it. Either way, the space station had to be destroyed and I was the only one who could do it. The general populace had no idea what the music company was up to, or what they were capable of and it was probably better that way...it was best not to spread undue panic.
With that thought and the full realization of just how high of stakes I was playing with, I gazed to the heavens, made sure that no one was around and launched myself into the sky, and on my way into outer space with my course set to the evil music store corporation's orbiting space station. It took me a while to escape earth's atmosphere, and the cold of space was harsh, but to one like me it was refreshing. I hovered there for a moment, taking in the full beauty of the planet that I loved, grim determination setting in. There to my left it was, the space station. I flew over it surveying the metal monstrosity. It was shaped like a giant "X" with row upon row of what looked like washing machines covering its surface. I knew not what nefarious purpose the machines served, I only knew that they spelled E-V-I-L and had to be destroyed, but not quite yet. I had another job to do.
I found a hatch that allowed me entry, and discovered that the station was serviced entirely by robots, none of whom paid me any notice, as the thought of an intruder was nonexistent. A quick search of the oddly beautiful and silent vessel, lead me to the weapon. It was a very small ship with seating for two, but a ship none the less, and it was now mine. I considered launching an energy blast at the station to wipe it from existence, but instead decided to see what my new toy could do and climbed in. I reached what I judged to be a safe distance and launched a pulse bomb, completely incinerating the station and destroying the threat to the good old U.S. of A...for the time being.
The dream continued with me flying around outer space in the ship that was much faster than I could ever fly on my own and I knew that I would be forced to take on the evil music corporation and their evil machinations that spread out to other galaxies, but that was for another day. I then flew back to earth, hid the ship in my secret hideout and arrived at Acapulco's restaurant in time for Margarita Monday Madness with my girlfriend and brother.
Now, wife-of-mine, tell me that shit is boring. That dream ruled so much that I wished I could have slept for hours more, just to see how far the music corporation's tendrils spread. If anything, the dream told me what I already suspected of my employer.
Here's another dream for you. I walked into a completely black room, void of all light, but oddly enough, there was a very large and modern looking couch, a downy-soft rug in front of it, a couple of tall plants, a couple of candles and two incredibly beautiful brunette women with the look of 1940's film noir goddesses. They looked my direction, smirked, and began to kiss one another passionately, every so often making sure that I was watching. They stood as I approached and I saw the shapes of elaborate tattoos beneath the lace of one of the women's robes, but not enough to tell what the tattoos actually were. They each kissed me in turn, and I lifted one to sit at the top of the couch, while the other woman's blood-red finger nails began to trace along....
Sorry, never mind. That one was probably a bit boring, too.
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