Dream Sequence

Thinking about a dream I had where a fast food girl asked me if I had read the Harry Hole detective novels, and then I told her that they sounded dumb. I thought it was something my subconscious made up, but apparently they’re real. It makes me wonder how much stuff I actually know about without being aware of it.

I’m not sure if I move my mouth when I talk in my dreams. In the dream, I mean. I wonder if the dream people just see a guy standing there silently thinking stuff. Because I watched a movie while dreaming where Roy Schieder had blonde hair and was driving around on a motorcycle and dodging laser beams which were coming out of a sentient flying meteorite. While I was I watching that I was definitely thinking how crazy it was, but I can’t be sure if there was really a body of mine there in that imaginary movie theater that could be observed, or if it’s like in old single-player FPS games where only the arms and hands are actually loaded, just floating there without a body.

The Cabazon Dinosaurs have always made me extremely uncomfortable, and I don’t think it’s just because Cabazon is a complete shithole. It might be because they’re one man’s magnum opus. Two concrete creatures that are the pinnacle of a creative life, yet completely lifeless. Visiting them in person is less impressive than looking at a photograph. They feel like a park that no child has ever played in, despite the fact that kids play there every day. Like a Disneyland attraction in the middle of a desert. Like a mirage made into matter. They’re a dream without the dreamer. They’re what all the world’s books, paintings, songs, and secrets will be like once the life has gone out. They’re a preview of death. I bring this up because I had a dream about them once.

All I wanna do is go back two and a half years to that night where I had a dream that I was part of a time traveling hippie cult trying to bring peace and love to all dimensions, in which I then got enslaved in colonial India by a version of the British Empire made up entirely of elephant men. It was a really good dream because it had original girls in it that were in love with me. These were never before seen girls.

I can’t sleep with my body laid out straight. Until I contort the arms, legs, and spine into different directions, the eyes refuse to stay closed. Even dreaming about parallel limbs is enough to stop my slumber. I mention that because dreams are my only avenue of escape, and even then, they often show me things I’d rather not see.

Once I had a dream in which I was trying to sleep, but people kept waking me up. Finally woke from the dream feeling like I hadn’t slept at all, despite being out for eight whole hours. If my subconscious was trying to tell me something, all I heard was, “Fuck you.”

Another time I had a really radical dream about being an orangutan, then woke up to an overpowering smell coming from a plate of rotting bananas that was on my desk. Tried leaving them there another day to see if I could get another go at being one of those long-limbed apes, but it didn’t work

I think I’m going to become a dream addict. I’ve managed to sleep for 21 hours out of 24 at previous times in my life, only getting up to drink or pee. Is there a name for this sort of thing? Like couch potato? Bed potato? Hopefully my dreams will give me a good word for it.

The only shows worth watching are the ones that air while I’m dreaming. Like the hit game show Stop! That! Noise! where contestants are thrown into a maze-like obstacle course with six extremely loud bells that they must disable, each one located in a different section. The tricky part is that there are also bells attached to their ankles, so in order to hear the main bells they have to stop moving. They might also accidentally end up chasing the other contestants, while those contestants are also chasing them, causing the game to last indefinitely. So far the series has caused at least three suicides. Not counting those by the audience, like when my anthropomorphic shark roommate stuck his head in the oven after he watched an eight hour game.

Sometimes I pretend I’m a wizard and that I can influence the world through my dreams. Would really suck if there were real wizards and they viewed that as stolen valor. I bet that’s why I’m depressed, wizards are messing with my mind.

Other people’s dreams, other people’s thoughts, other people’s words. On our screens, in our heads, and upon the tips of our tongues. It can be a real drag, man.

Going back to sleep, next dream better be cool.

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