So, I know how boring it can be to hear people describe their dreams. They don't make any sense when people retell them because they didn't make any sense to begin with. "And then we went to my room, but it wasn't really my room, but it WAS! And then that guy put my shoes on his hands, and we ended world hunger, and it was BEAUTIFUL!"
But dude, I had some weird dreams last night. Before I went to bed I was thinking of putting a post together about why I blog, but that will have to wait, because duuuuuude:
(I'll try to be brief)
I was walking quickly through a neighborhood on my way home. There were dangerous people around, on my 6, but I couldn't see them, and I was only ever a step or two ahead. I crossed someone's lawn. That someone had a ridiculously beautiful dog who looked a lot like my childhood dog (Sarge! We miss you!) but was as soft as velour on ecstasy. I petted him, despite the murderous monsters chasing me. Then the owner of the house came out, grabbed me and dragged me inside. It was Nora Dunn. Like from Saturday Night Live. Um, yeah. She told me that most of the people that I thought I knew, were really spies working against me. No one could be trusted. No one was who I thought they were. Animals were robots. UP IS DOWN! BLACK IS WHITE! Anyway, she said I had to deliver her (supersoft) dog to another spy. I took the dog and followed her directions and they lead me to... wait for it... Melanie Griffith's house. Ugh! I HATE her! What the hell? When she opened the door I handed her the dog's leash and stepped on her foot. The end. AND THE WORLD WAS SAVED BECAUSE I DELIVERED THE ROBOT-DOG TO DON JOHNSON'S EX-WIFE.
I immediately regret forcing you through that. Please don't hold it against me.
Wonderland: I got M a cashmere sweater, dress shirt, bamboo socks, an awesome old-timey book called: The Boy's Book: How to be the Best at Everything, and some cedar blocks to keep his clothes protected. Not that he has to worry about protection, what with the dog being delivered and all...
2 comments:
Ding ding ding went the beeeell....
I also had strange dreams! It involved me having a long conversation with Richard Pryor and at one point in the dream I thought vaguely, "Isn't he dead? What does that mean for ME?" and then I woke up.
WV: "bediving"
We are NOT all spies working against you. We LOVE you and are working FOR you. Do not let your subconscious tell you those things, cause it's just mean and UNTRUE. So there.
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