Friday, September 3, 2010

Allow Me to Relay the Most F*cked-Up Dream EVER

Alright... this post is going to be pretty far outside the norm, even for me. But I can't keep this one to myself. For some reason, over the past few weeks, I've been having some of the most f'd-up dreams since I was a kid (you know, when my dreams were mostly about dinosaurs and, occasionally, about catching massive neon salamanders while saltwater-fishing with my granddad).

But the piece de resistánce came last night. Let's hit the highlights:

Part One: My wife and I are hanging out with just about every friend we've ever made in our entire lives, in a series of giant, interconnected treehouses somewhere in the forest. I'm hanging out with a friend who offers me some weed, to which I respond, "No way man, I don't smoke, and even if I did, I can't be smokin' weed. I have to pass a piss test for my new job!" I leave and head to another treehouse...

Part Two: My wife and I have a huge fight over something I couldn't recall upon waking up. Regardless, it rages to the point where we are on the verge of divorce. She leaves and heads to another treehouse to vent to some of her female friends. I follow her, and am standing below her and her friends, still arguing, and for some reason, throw a plastic bowl that hits her in the neck. One of her friends rips me a new one in front of everyone, and says I should just get lost...

Part Three: My old boss, an Irish priest from my college work-study job, emerges from one of the treehouses, and orders me to drive immediately back to Duquesne University to put gas in one of his four cars, which are in a garage at the college. I jump in my car and head out. However, when I get to Duquesne, all of the buildings are skyscrapers, they're not in the same place they used to be, and I absolutely cannot find my way around...

Part Four: A car screeches up to me, and inside are two "men in black," CIA types... and one of the guys from the original Budweiser "Wazaaaaaaaaah?" commercial. They order me into the car to help them complete some sort of spy mission. I tell them I can't, I'm about to divorce my wife and I have to get back to the forest treehouse complex.

Unfortunately, this is where the dream ended. The only part I can logically explain - believe it or not - is the guy from the Bud commercial, since I was just re-watching it the other day.

Top that. If you can, email or leave a comment.

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