January 10, 2007

Pink. Twisted. Convoluted.

The mind is a funny thing. Since I haven’t been sleeping (not ‘having trouble sleeping,’ just the time spent doing it is not nearly long enough), every second of my unconscousness is filled with the nuttiest dreams I have had in my life. I generally have no dreams at all, or rarely remember them; this week has been like a Telemundo soap marathon.

Saturday: The Adventures of Beemanulle – I am a lesbian space adventurer seeking males for her crew; whether for noble purposes (reproduction, diversity), or exploitative (sex slaves, jar tops, fetching things “up high”) remains unclear, but the mood suggests we’re just sick of each other and are looking for ways to spice up our love lives (apparently, being alien lesbians just isn’t scintillating enough). The hot girl-on-girl antics remain locked in my hindbrain, however, because the only thing I clearly remember is my sister telling me I was driving the ship wrong. [And, before you start speculating why my sister was aboard my Sapphic pleasure-cruiser, let me say that it’s because we had a conversation about lesbians an hour before I fell asleep and that is all there is to it. In real life, she wouldn’t even guest star.]

Sunday: Stop, Thief! – My wallet has been stolen. After I frantically call Visa to cancel my credit cards (when each call is cut off, or I have to redial, or I’m put on hold for so long the dream sequence has changed) I decide to take the law into my own hands. I track down the perps myself, only to find three former classmates, comically dressed as Dick Tracy gangsters. The largest of the three is the culprit, and I manage to somehow beat the shit out of him, despite the fact that he’s got about two feet and at least a hundred pounds on me. It is only after I retrieve my wallet from inside his bright yellow jacket (my driver’s license within proof that I am not crazy and will not be the one going to jail when the cops arrive) that I realize he not a man at all, but that really tall chick that was on varsity volleyball in high school. I feel bad for kicking her ass, and wonder if she’s going to come after me when she stops crying.

Monday: Eat It - I’m behind the counter at Starbucks, and I accidentally break a chocolate chip cookie in the pastry case. I decide to eat it. It’s delicious. I grab four more and bite into them as a five-tier cookiewich. When it is gone, I grab four more, eating them in such obscene detail as to border on the pornographic. This continues until I have eaten all the cookies in the pastry case, and I do not feel one bit sorry. I wake up and realize I cannot gain a single pound from all the dreamcookies I ate in the last six hours; this gives me the strength to get out of bed. [Variations: Sometimes it’s a banana muffin.]

Tuesday: No Room – I’m trying to have uninterrupted sex with Stanley Tucci (I don’t know, so don’t ask), but we’re in my grandmother’s house and every room has someone sleeping in it. One room is filled with my brothers and sisters (who are still toddlers; again, don’t ask how old I’m supposed to be); others are filled with my aunts and uncles. Stanley and I finally find a closet in my Aunt Mary’s room, but she wakes up and tells me to go back to bed. Stanley gives up and goes back to wherever he came from; I go back to the room with my family in it, wondering if I’m in trouble and ruminating on how Aunt Mary ruins everything.

Wednesday: Meta – In this dream, I’m trying to go to sleep, but nobody will let me. I’m so tired I feel drugged; I can feel my body’s heaviness as I walk around, begging people to let me take a nap—but they all need something done right now. At the end of the dream, I fall asleep but can still hear them walking around me, asking me to spell something or sew their jeans. [Variations: I fall asleep in my car, while driving. I don’t die because the car calmly drives me to work and, in a William Daniels voice, delivers gentle remonstrations about my poor sleeping habits. It’s so nice to actually sleep I don’t care that he calls me ‘Michael.’]

Tonight: I’m hoping for a hotter male lead. And an anime sequence.*

*Update 1/11: No dice. Snakes in my boathouse.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

"You'd better get some rest, Mr. Matthews."


--Alex