02 September 2011

If Dreams Are a Wish Your Heart Makes, I Want a New Heart

Last night, I had a dream. Not uncommon since, according to all manner of medical evidences, we all dream multiple times throughout the course of the night. However, I find that it is a rare occasion that I will actually remember a dream. And in typical fashion, the dreams I manage to remember are of the most insanely off-the-wall variety. Today was no exception. So this, in essence and in pictographic form, was my dream.

Ewan McGregor was walking down the street with me. I don't really know where we were going or where we were, it was a post-modern village that appeared to be made of chocolate covered houses. It was sort of like that weird poem about Jesus on the beach except I could see him and we weren't leaving footprints in the pavement.
Suddenly, out of nowhere there was an opening in the street. A voracious manhole had opened itself and was awaiting the arrival of McGregor and myself. Reluctantly, and because there was no way around the gaping hole, we allowed ourselves to fall into the hole. Not knowing where we would end up or if we would be alive by the end of our plummet into darkness.

As Ewan and I plummeted farther and farther, deeper and deeper, losing our sense of direction and time in the ever deepening darkness, we became acutely aware that something was amiss. Of course, there was no way to know in the pitch blackness, but just as we began to think there was no end to our forever free fall there was a soft splashing sound and the sensation of being both cold and warm; like taking a piss in the public pool. We had finally hit the bottom, and had landed in a mud wrestling pit. Across from where we landed, there was a ninja holding a chicken.

Before we could react to the shock of being plunged into the darkness of an underground mud wrestling pit, Michael Buffer began ushering in the improptu bout with his forever classy baritone.
As the match began, we quickly learned that we were outclassed by our nimble ninja opponent. He was agile, strong, and lightning quick, not least of all because I happened to notice that he wasn't slogging through the mud like we were but was walking atop the mucky goo. In a calculated move, I sprinted left as Ewan feigned to the right and I tackled our ninja, knocking his hood to the muddy floor. I was aghast at what my manuever had revealed, we were mud wrestling dear old JC himself.

I felt a little bit bad about wrestling with the son of God, but not really. He started the whole thing, so I was defending myself. And then, once his identity was revealed, something happened that I did not expect. Not unlike a whiny, spoiled tool, JC up and rage quit. He started throwing mud everywhere and cursing, screaming things I had never even thought of before. I shouldn't have but I started laughing.

Eventually, Michael Buffer came into the ring and delcared me and Ewan McGregor the winners and offered us our tasty prize, a delicious cheesy bowl of magical macaroni. I enjoyed it most, I think, which was unfortunate. For unbeknownst to me, the more you ate and enjoyed the macaroni, the more likely it was that you would be transported somewhere else, somewhere unhappy.

And then it happened. Upon taking my last luxurious bite of victory pasta, I closed my eyes and found myself astride a My Little Pony and flying through the air. The air was stiff and hot and full of fire and I was strapped to the back of this stupid pony, flying faster and faster toward a strangely colored rainbow.

Unfortunately for me, this was no mere rainbow. It was the devil's rainbow, a rainbow so sinister and intimidating that the colors were not colors but the souls of different ethnicities collected as payment for unreturned Blockbuster DVDs. And thanks to my unexpected transportation atop the My Little Pony, I was closing in fast. We slammed into the rainbow and it exploded souls into the air.

All the souls melted together in flight, forming a super being. There before me, was a large golden Buddha holding a tennis racket. Buddha took one look at me and began swinging his tennis racket menacingly, laughing hysterically. The My Little Pony carried me nearer the devil spawned Buddha and I soon began to understand what was to happen, but unsure of eactly how it would come about.

With a mighty swing of his racket, held in a Western grip, Buddha smacked me off the top of my pony. I was hurled high into the air and saw fluffy marshmallow fields below me. I began to descend, rapidly picking up speed and preparing to slam to my death when I was hit once again with Buddha's racket. This time I was sent forward, lightning fast, and a soon passed out from the sheer force of gravity and speed I was fighting against. When I awoke, I discovered that I had entered into the Hotel California which I assume is what hell is really like since you can check out anytime you like but never leave.

...and then I woke up, hungry for a fried egg sandwich which I promptly made and devoured before getting ready for work.

1 comment:

  1. Heh, I guess I'm weird since I remember most of my dreams.