Other People’s Dreams

I’ve got yet another sinus infection, and I think the medications have been making me loopy because my dreams have been even more vivid than usual, except they don’t seem to be mine. The dreams make perfect sense as dreams in and of themselves, but why dan would be having them makes no sense at all. For instance:

Sunday Night:
I dreamed that I was producing and starring in a movie called “Aspburglars” where I played the lead in a group of autistic bank robbers. My producer was arguing with me about how the title’s not-so-clever wordplay describing Asperger-Syndrome-afflicted thieves might turn people off. I disagreed and had a diva melt-down on the set, stomping back to my trailer, trying desperately to hide all the inherent insecurity of a stand-up comedian. I can only assume this dream was originally meant for Adam Sandler and delivered to my OTC-drug-fueled brain by mistake. 

Tuesday Night:
Last night I dreamt that Miley Cyrus and I were best friends, and we concocted a plan to distract the crowd at an Easter Candy hunt in order to collect and keep all the chocolate loot for ourselves. Miley would take the stage as Hannah, get the crowd into a raging frenzy, and I would run around collecting all the forgotten and discarded candy by the armfulls. The plan succeeded, and Miley and I giggled with delight at the sight of each-other’s chocolate-smeared faces. I’m a 35-year-old man who has never heard a Miley Cyrus song in his life. This dream was clearly meant for a fawning preteen Hannah Montana fan.

Monday Night:
A couple nights ago, I dreamt I was ginormously overweight and didn’t care about it. I slicked back my hair with egg-yolks and lard. I defecated in public and in front of strangers with glee and my voice was so loud and oppressive even I could barely stand to hear it. Women scowled at me in the street and hid their babies’ faces from my gaze. I bought a Hoverround and decided never to walk again, out of sheer laziness. And yet I remained proudly obnoxious, unfazed by humanity’s disgust with me. It was almost liberating in a way, to exist in utter discord and contention with all people and the planet in its entirety. This dream was clearly meant for Rush Limbaugh. 

I’m hoping tonight will bring me the dream of someone a little more exciting - like George Clooney or either of the Gilmore Girls - because those would be the dreams of gods.

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  1. #1 by Anonymous on March 25, 2010 - 12:46 pm

    I quit smoking this week via nicotine patches. The boxes the patches came in warned me that I may have “vivid dreams,” and noted that the patches could be removed at night if this was bothersome. I decided to leave them on just to see how vivid the dreams were.

    The first night I dreamt that I was in an orphanage with a Kevin James and some guy I played World of Warcraft with. Kevin was smoking a joint and managed to get all three of us high (this didn’t even make sense to dream me, because even dream-me knew there wasn’t enough smoke for a contact high, but high-dream-me didn’t care). Suddenly Kevin remembered that we had to move dozens of shoeboxes from the upstairs storage area into the foyer before the orphans got home… so the three of us started running up and down the stairs moving shoeboxes…

    Shortly thereafter the three of us, still high, were appointed to reconvict some guy who had been put in prison for 10 years for manslaughter. We had apparently found evidence that would up the charges to first-degree murder, and we were supposed to find a way around the whole double jeopardy thing.

    Whose dreams am I having, Dan?

    P.S. This dream and the dreams I have had on the subsequent nights have been so enteretaining that I have yet to remove the patch at bedtime…

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