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Please don’t skydive or fire weapons while asleep

From 10pm to 6am last night, I was asleep. Giving me 8 hours of completely restless sleep marked with weird dreams.

I’m not sure why, but in my first dream of the night I was aboard a commercial jet. Eventually, myself and another person were sucked out of the open door of the aircraft and tossed out into a free-fall above an ocean. We must have been pretty high up because I fell for a long time. Through the whole fall, I remember thinking how painful the impact with the waters of the ocean was going to be. Re calling conversations about how water is as soft as concrete a fast speeds.  As the waters came closer and closer, I was already beginning to wince as hard as I could. Then the impact came.

It had the sound of a quick step into a puddle and I was left floating on the ocean. Eventually I ended up in a room with Jess, where she was completely thankful that I was alive and did not do my part to become little bits of food for plankton.

Which brought me into the second half of my dream. As Jess and I were sitting there conversing over how not dead I was, I saw a three pairs of headlights pull up outside of the building we were in. My cellphone rang and it was my father-in-law telling me that people were coming by the house and that their intentions were not good.

So Jess, her brother Danny (I’m not sure when he came into the room) and I gathered up our weapons to defend ourselves. Jess and Danny had shotguns and rifles, I had a single shot old-time pistol, something you’d see a pirate carrying around. It was hand carved and rusty.

As the attackers came up the stairs to we were, the gunfire ensued and we had ourselves a gun battle. Shortly after the bullets started flying, I was able to wrestle one of the attackers to the floor in a ‘half-nelson’.

Eventually, because of my perfect use of a wrestling move I’ve never tried, the other attackers wither gave up or were equally beaten without any bloodshed. Because we are decent people or because we felt bad for them, we ended up having dinner together. They were loosely handcuffed as they spooned soup into their mouths. After that, we walked them off to be incarcerated.

I have two ideas about the origins of these dreams:

Origin #1: I’ve been playing too close of attention to the recently resolved Somalian Pirate news story and replicated it into my dreams. (see: Navy SEALS parachute out to see to save captain, snipers, etc.)

Origin #2: My subconscious is telling me that no matter how bad things may seem like they could be, they’ll turn out better than I expected.

Ok, maybe there’s a third option: It’s my subconscious telling me that no matter how bad things get, I’m invincible.

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Obamas, transformers & a guitar

I’m not sure if it is something I’ve been eating or the stress over the economy, but my dreams have been strange.

Two nights ago, Jess and I were neighbors of the Obamas. In my dream, I was feeling very secure having all of the secret service next door. The thing about living next to the Obamas was that not only were there many Obamas, but any time we left the house or returned to it, they came out to greet us.

That was the status quo for the dream until i noticed that the president had a huge growth on the back of his head. For some reason, I kept on thinking it was a brain slug.

Tonight’s dreams weren’t so congruent. First, I was helping construct Transformer (more than meets the eye) in a giant lab. Then, I guess I became a transformer, but nothing cool like a jet or a tank. I was just a metallic cube.

As a Transformer (more than meets the eye), my transforming compatriots and I were having a very frank and heated discussion on the words to use to initiate one’s transformation. We were about to agree on my suggestion of “Energize!” when all of the other Transformers (more than meets the eye) suddenly took of flying and driving out the door. Me, in my cubeness, could only watch… because cubes aren’t meant to move, apparently.

After being ditched in my own dream, it suddenly switched over to me being at a party, no longer a cube nor metallic. I was sitting there playing a guitar, effectively going through every Nirvana song ever written. All of a sudden a woman came up, grabbed the guitar by the neck and yanked it away from me. Had she been John Belushi, she would have smashed it against the wall and then apologize, but she just walked off with it.

House Fire… the musical

Am I wrong in assuming that most people, at least most of the time, have semi-normal dreams?  I’m not sure if it was because I had a relaxing day or what, but I had a freaky and ridiculous dream last night.

For some reason, my unconscious brain decided to reward me with a dream about having our house on fire.  Not just one house fire, but four separate house fires all in the same house.  Each time, the fire department would come, put the fire out… but lo’ and behold, I would find another spot that was still on fire.  Then repeat that action three more times.  On the final house fire, I went to push down a while (isn’t that what you’re supposed to do if your house is on fire?) and as it’s falling down, I am either transported or my reality shifts and I’m in a musical.

This isn’t your run-of-the-mill musical, like Rent or Cats, no… this is a musical at a on skates.  Not ice skates, roller skates.  That’s how classy I am.  I don’t even give myself the cool inline skates, these are the circa 1980 big wheels and even bigger rubber front brake.  So now, after stressing over my house being on fire, I am now in a horrible, cheesy skating-musical with a touch of can-can where everyone is pushing down walls.  In the finale of the musical, the diva can-can musical girl tries to push down the last remaining wall, which instead of falling, turns into giant rotating technicolor dice that shine and spin as we skate down a ramp.

Luckily, my alarm went off and I had to wake up, I’m not sure I would like to where this dream would have led me next.

You know…

You know it’s not going to be a good day when you dream all night about calling in sick to work. 

 Plus, I think the dog was sleep walking.

custom made for a daydreaming boy

I don’t think that I was ever meant to sleep. I seem to have my weirdest experiences when I’m out cold. The last two nights have given me some weird dreams.

The other night, I dreamed that mom, Meagan, my friend from freshman year Monica, and myself were driving into Newfoundland. What I mostly remember from the drive is a lot of ocean and the moon, I’m not even sure if we were driving on the ground. We got to a house and I was talking to Meagan about how I was going to buy the house from mom and dad.

The dream I had early this morning was mostly the pope begging me to believe that he was an alright guy. We sat in his pope apartment as he pleaded with me saying, “I’m alright. I’m alright. Come on. I’m alright.”

I think I need to go to bed earlier or not go to bed at all.

You’ve got bills to feed and mouths to pay

What a horrible night of sleep. I am starting to believe the no one has creepier dreams than myself. The night started off with a dream infested (literally) with millions of bugs. These bugs looked like blood laden ticks and they were swarming every where. My least favorite was when I was drinking my milk and I noticed that it was tasting funny, so I looked in the milk and at the bottom of the cup were about ten of these bugs. I think the dream eventually became ridiculous when they crawled into the head of one of my friends–his then went *pop*. I think that woke me up the first time.

Then came the next dream which didn’t involve any bugs, milk, or exploding heads. I was dreaming that I was teaching and some of the class were being real jerks. Many of the people in the class were people I had not seen in years. Anyway, the class was being rowdy and I was getting unusually ticked off. It is always a weird sensation when you wake up from a dream extremely mad and then you realized that it was just a dream, and that a grown-up Pakistani student (this was in high school) didn’t just release your class a half hour after the morning bell.

I think I need a psychologist. or a drink.

close the door it’s much too scary

So I have a problem. I’ll admit, that to a degree, I am fairly a normal guy. But, there is weirdness that lurks in the heart of men. My problem is that when ever I am at my parents’, I wake up early in the morning (2ish – 3ish) and the faint glow of the street lamp on the lawn always makes me think it has snowed. Regardless of the current season, for those first couple blissful moments, I think that I could go for some snowman making or at least a snowball fight. This happens almost every time.

I’m weird. consistently so.