Best of MySpace blogs part 2: Dreams

Originally posted December 11, 2007

No, this isn't some fancy-pants quasi-inspirational "what I want to be when I grow up" kind of blog, this is about dream-dreams. The shit that happens in your brain when you're asleep.

Ordinarily my dreams are surreal. To give you an idea of what a typical dream of mine is like:

I dream that my nose is dry and I need nasal spray, but the bottle I have is empty. I see this big white bucket of clear fluid and fill up the bottle...then I look at that bucket to make sure it's okay. The label is a drawing of a man's head, but it's "see-through," showing only his eyes, nerves, veins, and his brain. The instructions say to make sure the spray reaches all the way up to the brain. Then beneath that it says that this spray is the 1 spray for getting over addiction to meth and cocaine.

I drop the bottle, saying "what the hell? I'm not on drugs! I shouldn't use this!" I put the lid back on the bucket, then put the bucket in its "box": a large wooden frame with glass sides, then I decide to get rid of the box. I see out the window a cop driving by on a motorcycle..but this cop (CHiP, actually) isn't human. He's cartoon duck. A mallard, to be exact. The duck CHP officer has his sirens blaring and is directing an erratically-driven pickup to pull over. In the driver's seat of this pickup is a cartoon turtle waving a luger.

"Why do I always get the weird ones?" the duck-cop asks himself.

The luger-wielding turtle pulls over, or tries to, but he's such a piss-poor driver that the car skids to a halt and does a 180-degree turn before lightly bumping into a light pole. Officer duck sighs and asks the turtle, who I now notice has black scales and an orange shell, exactly like this Battle Beasts toy I had as a kid. I notice that the back of the turtle's pickup has lots of boxes in it, and it has two signs in the rearview mirror:

The first sign says "Like Me? Then you thief!"

The second says "Haters? I kill you!"

The duck asks the turtle about the gun, to which the turtle replies, "is only water gun. Is not for killing!" in a thick Russian accent. The duck-cop shrugs and gets back on his motorcycle and drives away. The turtle then mumbles something in Russian that sounds unpleasant and gets back in his truck so he can park it properly. He then crosses the street and sets up a table right next to a bus stop. At the table he opens up the boxes from the back of his truck. They're filled with candy bars: Twix, Almond Joy, Baby Ruth, etc. and then starts trying to sell them to people.

A dishevelled man approaches him. His clothing is dirty and torn. His skin is also dirty, hair scraggly and unwashed. But it's the look in his eyes that scares me. He just looks...off. I'm actually afraid for the luger-wielding turtle. The crazy homeless guy takes a candy bar from the table.

"What are you going to do about it, huh?!" he yells at the reptile. Just then my alarm goes off and I wake up.

This sort of weirdness is pretty standard for my dreams. I always hear about people having ultra-realistic dreams and I can't relate. Until I finally had one myself.

I'm not going to describe this dream in detail, but it was about someone I actually know. Don't get me wrong, it was a good dream while I was having it. Too good. And very, very real. Everything, from sound to sight to touch to smell to taste was extremely realistic. I actually believed it was all happening and I was elated. It was like everything I had ever wanted had happened...then I woke up and I realized it was only a dream. I think I actually got depressed from that realization, that's how real the dream was...I miss my fucked up dreams. At least then I know it doesn't matter what happens in them when I wake up.

My subconscious is a dick. If it were a person, I'd punch him right in the gut.