Ok.
I am
not even dressed right now. I’m still in my jammies. Which is kind of funny
because I don’t actually wear shorts to bed but I felt awkward blogging in my boxers so…
Hi.
The reason I’m not dressed is because I something important that I want to talk about today. It’s so important and I didn’t want to forget any of the details that I didn’t get dressed yet. I haven’t been on Neopets today and I haven’t played around with my Macbook’s new operating system. Ok that’s a lie. I played around on it a little bit when I opened up Photo Booth (Apple’s webcam application) and found out that I can have
Little hearts dance around my head now. Or
A halo of twitter logos.
I was hoping that if I pretended to hit them they would scatter.
Over two-hundred and fifty new features are currently unexplored on my Macbook and I’m swatting at imaginary birds. I have pirorities.
Ok but for real. The real reason I’m anxious to get writing today is because I had the absolute strangest dream last night. I don’t remember my dreams very often. In fact for a while now I’ve seemed to practically stop remembering all of the images I had in my dreams and only could faintly recall bits of dialouge. Like I would be having a conversation with someone or I was describing something and as soon as I woke up I would have very little recollection of anything I thought about.
But last night my brain took me on a subconscious rollar-coaster of a life time. I know that dreams are essentially composed of things that your brain is trying to work out laced with bits of fantasy and memory. So initally when you wake up from a dream, you’ere like “JESUS CHRIST. WHAT IN THE HELL WAS THAT ABOUT?” but if you break your dreams down and ask youself why your brain chose to show you certain things and think back to parts of the past few days you can figure out where the dream stemmed from. At least,
that’s my experiance.
I’m not going to reveal to you why I had any part of this dream last night because for one thing it would take way to long to analyze every single detail and if you’re a smart cookie who reads this blog often enough you can probably figure it out on your own. But I would reccommend taking this at face value. This is just one messed up journey.
PART ONE: Helping The Homeless.
So this who thing begins with me walking through the Village in New York City with Niko, Seth and another transguy named Sam (who was never actually seen in the dream but I heard him laugh a few times and knew it was him) on our way to Elevation Burgers which is where we head off to for food after the Gender-Drop in support group is over and we’re talking about one of our friend’s who just picked his new name (which is Reese by the way) and it’s funny because I don’t think Reese and Sam know each other but Sam was really excited to hear about Reese’s name change nonetheless.
Anyway, as we’re walking down the street I saw a homeless Asian woman in her early twenties sitting on these steps in the sidewalk under the awning of a plain building. Ok pause.
Two things.
One: I have no idea why the homeless woman in my dream is Asian but alledgely we only remember like ten percent of our dreams within like the first five minutes of being awake or something. But I’m not sure how reliable those numbers are because I can’t find an even remotely credible source to back those numbers up. Wikipedia doesn’t even say anything about it. Nevertheless, I know that humans don’t remember a good portion of their dreams particularly well so I think it should be noted that one of the details I remembered from this dream is that the homeless women on the steps just happened to be an Asian woman in her twenties.
Two: Where the hell are there steps on a public sidewalk in New York City?
Ok back to the dream.
This homeless woman had a ten gallon bucket with a black, plastic garbage bag in it and I assumed she wanted people to put money in the bucket (even though she was not using the plastic tub as a musical instrument or had a cardboard sign that said something like:
that are usually used by homeless people to get a bit of cash.)
So I fished around in my pockets but the only loose change I had on me was a solitary penny but I figured it was better than nothing so I walked up to this woman and offered it to her and all of a sudden she was like sixty years old and wearing different clothing (but was still Asian) she got really offended and waved a fan at me and started yelling at me in a language that was not English. So I scared and ran away back to the comfort of my friends and complained to Niko and Seth (Sam was gone) about how ungrateful that homeless asian lady was.
Part Two: UR DOIN’ IT WRONG.
The next thing I know I’m back in the bedroom of my apartment. And I am briefly engaging in some sort of sexual relations with a young woman (race and ethnicity is not specified this time, although she has shoulder length black hair) but we stop and wind up in a Jersey Diner looking at menus and it is implied that the reason we stopped getting it on was because we had not gone on a proper date before hand.
Alas our date was interupted by the Rupert Murdock phone tapping scandal and our involvement in a bank robbery or something.
I don’t know. I’m not sure if that’s the order of events even. IT ALL HAPPENED SO FAST.
Part Three: Bed Bugs.
I guess the date is over because I wake up (in my dream, not in real life which will become very apparent as this segment continues on.) in my bed in my room at my parents house to find Rosie walking into the room and in her mouth is a pair of two bras and Rosie lays down next to my bed and rests her head on them. And I’m like “GREAT SHE’S GOING TO BE GUARDING THEM WHEN I WAKE UP” (Rosie used to have aggression problems [in real life] where she would insist that your shoe was her shoe AND YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE IT. But for the most part she’s too old and tired to care) and I lay back down for a few seconds before getting back up and I look down at the floor and the bras are gone and what’s even stranger (although in my dream it was totally normal) I realize that Rosie is now Blake.
And Blake is crawling on my floor (he’s trying to be quiet so he doesn’t wake me) in order to get to a fuzzy pair of jammie pants (that are orange and have neon colored leopard print on them [I do not own these in real life BUT I WISH I DID.]) in my closet that he can use as a pillow while he sleeps on my floor. This is when it occurs to me that Blake is sleeping over my house. So I say, “Blake… You don’t have to sleep on the floor you can just sleep in this other bed.” Which Blake couldn’t have possibly known about because before I pointed in the direction of the other bed, it wasn’t there. So…
Sorry Blake, for not telling you that I can magically make furniture appear while you sleep on my floor cold and alone using the ugliest pair of jammie pants I’ve ever seen to rest your head on as I sleep mere inches away in my nice comfy bed. But in my defense the last time I checked you were Rosie who is now too old to successfully jump on my bed.
So now I feel guilty for ignoring Blake and I try to make it up to him by making up the extra magically-appearing bed and as I’m doing so Blake informs me that I have bed bugs. But reassures me that it’s ok because he has a solution! He tells me that he doesn’t know how to exterminate the bed bugs but he has a way to make sure that they don’t bite me.
PART FOUR: A Court Order To Smoke Meth
I never find out Blake’s bed bug remedy because I’m now in the lounge of a dorm at ESU that, even in my dream I know doesn’t really exsist at ESU. And sitting next to me is an obese, lesbian Resident Director.
I’m not sure why I know for a fact that this woman is a lesbian but she absolutely is a lesbian. There is no down in my dream-mind and she’s not denying it. This Resident Director is taking down my statement because I’m trying to get another student kicked out of this dorm for smoking meth even though in my dream I’m still an alummnus of ESU and have no business butting into dorm life. And the guy on meth is yelling at me from down the hallway but every time he says something I instantly have a witty and degrading comment about him.
But before I can formally pressing charges against some guy I’ve never met before for smoking meth in the dorm that I don’t live in because I’ve already graduated from college, we are transported back to my bedroom in my parents house. The large lesbian resident director is gone. And the guy is smoking meth and he hand me the pipe and as he does this my bedroom door open and you’ll never guess who walks in.
No. Seriously. You’re really not going to guess who walks into my bedroom.
It’s judge who is overseeing my name change walks in. And he’s dressed like a really fancy, judge from like the 1700′s with a powdered wig like this:
and he sees me holding this water bong full of meth. So I start freaking out a little bit because obviously he’s not going to approve my name change because I’m a meth addict.
Quite the contrary.
He insists that I take a hit of this meth even though I really would prefer not to. But I decide to do it because he’s really egging me on and I’m afraid that if I don’t he won’t approve my name change and I feel really guilty about it because I don’t want to insult him. But I end up feeling really paranoid about smoking meth because I’m terriffied that I’ll become a drug addict now and I’ll get arrested and sent to jail. But then I’m overcome with a feeling of relief because I suddenly realize that I simply can’t get in trouble for smoking the meth because I’m smoking it with a really important judge who doesn’t care at all because he is extremely high on meth.
And then I woke up for real.
SO YEAH.
I’ll see you tomorrow.
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Well then. That’s…. interesting. I could vouch for the diner bit, minus the date part, presumably, and who knows, maybe so could other people you know, but my hair is down to my shoulder blades and it’s not black.
Fascinating.
And I’m the weird one for constantly dreaming that you’re not so nice? Which, btw, I’m pretty sure is my subconscious working out my fear about you HATING me if/when we meet IRL. I’ve thought about it a lot and that’s the best I can come up with. I just make you into a jerk so I can be like “it doesn’t matter if he likes me because he’s not even nice.” I’m sure you’re a very nice meth user IRL tho.
I’ve got to lay off watching so much intervention….
Uh. Amazing. Also huge day for me: made your dream AND your post
I like the shirt.
I think Blake The Dog is the funniest mental image I’ll get to conjure all DAY.
I COMPLETELY CONCUR.