They say everyone dreams. Some say we’re living a waking dream. Whatever real life is, it’s nowhere close to the weirdness I just slept through. Most dreams fade like smoke when you wake, but not this time. This is what I get for having Lucky Me pancit canton and powering through The Walking Dead before bed.
In my first dream, I was in a group of men, women and kids having to fight another group for territory. Or something. I wasn’t clear on the whys and wherefores, but they sent us women out first because we were “expendable.”
I was armed with a pencil. Mongol No. 2, bright yellow and freshly sharpened. I stabbed someone with it and gained pliers, the heavy wrenchy sort. I must’ve brained someone with it because I then gained a gun. Meanwhile, someone was peeling the face off of someone else with a cleaver. (This was not a good dream.) Then my brother, whom I was protecting, got wounded and I woke up.
It’s just one of those scenes that seems so intense it wakes you, and you lie there for a second because you’ve jerked out of REM sleep so fast you need a minute to recalibrate your whereabouts. Anyway, I lay back down and immediately got into the next one, where I was in a theatre. Wasn’t sure if I was with Le Hubs, but I knew I was watching something with Whoopi Goldberg of all people.
As dreams do, the whole theatre scene segued into having really amazing sexy times in a glade straight out of a Midsummer Night’s Dream with the love of my life, who is not Whoopi Goldberg, and the glade turned out to be an island which we eventually left. I could run on water, while he could swim really fast.
And then we were underwater hiding from some psycho young girl who had come into the room to get a doll we had gone there for. I left Le Hubs – who at this point was no longer Le Hubs, he was the vampire guy from Twilight – to hide under the table, while I snatched the doll and trapped psycho girl in some magic net.
It turned out that psycho young girl was a vengeful ghost and the doll was her anchor to this world. How I figured this out, I had no idea but I grabbed the doll, surfaced into some sort of attic (wtf?) and just as she’d escaped my magic net (again, wtf) I smashed the doll, it broke, and she disappeared. Then I woke up again.
Before last night, the weirdest dream I can recall having was treading water someplace that looked very like the Manjuyod sand bar while alligators swam just beneath my feet.
Who needs horror movies, shrooms, or the clown from It? I don’t often recall my dreams, and I can see why – if that’s what’s going on in my subconscious, I’m better off not knowing.
Image from TinyFry.com
Saving for Botox 