May 6, 2013

garbage from my sleeping brain

I think dreams are rubbish.  Well, ok, I don't know about YOUR dreams.  They could be absolutely amazing and insightful.

You could be one of those people that have other worldly knowledge planted into your brain during your unconscious hours.  Or the kind of who seems to work out all their waking struggles through a good dream sequence.  Who knows, maybe you just dream about math - not exactly earth shattering, but still falling in the spectrum of "intelligence".

My dreams, however, are more like this:

Figuratively speaking, of course. (Spongebob rarely graces my sleeping brain, which is starting to make me wonder - why don't I dream in cartoon?)

The other night I was having one of those dreams where you just bounce around the whole time, and nothing really links together.  Like there I was eating french fries and I couldn't for the life of me get my fry to land in the fry sauce without splattering all over my boobs.  And then, the next thing I know, I'm sitting in a public library where a huge shipment of second-hand shoes shows up.  And then I spent the next fifteen minutes of my dream locating matching pairs of shoes for a homeless boy who likes Converse.

Plus remember that one time that I dreamed that I was dating a Kid Rock look alike straight out of prison?  Or the time that I had to save my kids from a basiliskamander over and over?

So you just go right ahead and keep dreaming about important things, or messages from beyond the veil or whatever.  And I'll keep having the kind of dreams that belong in a trash receptacle, or the mind of a mental patient.

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