Dream Journal [2-24-09]

By Jake, Glenn and Katy

Dreams: images while you are going through the REM state of sleep. Martin Luther King had one. We all have them. Sometimes we write them down, like King did. And much like King, we sometimes share them in a oration or, the 21st century oration, the blog.

I was on a hot air balloon with a court jester. He kept telling me jokes about babies with guns. I didn't understand them. He just kept going on. His flop sweat weighed down the balloon, but we just dropped some sandbags. We landed in Rome and ate pizza. The pizza was like Pizza Hut's Bigfoot pizza.

I was having what can only be described as a date with Barack Obama. We were in an apartment together in Chicago. It wasn't like a real date, but there was just something intimate to it. I got really mad at him for something so he appointed Martha Stewart Secretary of the Interior to get back at me, which in my dream mind might have had something to do with interior decorating.

I was watching House Party. Then I got sucked into the TV and was hanging out with Kid and Play. Play was really nice, he kept offering me sardines and pretzels. Kid was a total asshole, though. He kept calling me a scrote. What does that even mean?

I heard crying from somewhere in my apartment complex. I got out of bed and took off my shoes and followed the wailing to my neighbors apartment. When I walked in Yul Brynner was sitting on the couch kicking a small dog. I tried to yell at him for abusing the dog but when I opened my mouth I vomited up most of the Old Testament. I felt bad so I asked Yul to help me re-write Genesis through Lamentations. We composed a sad story about a girl lost at the mall.

I was in the garden behind my mom's house eating a tomato. I hate tomatoes, but this tomato tasted like an apple. Halfway through the tomato I threw it towards my neighbors house, but it hit a force field and lodged back at me. I ducked and heard an "oof" from behind me. When I turned around David the Gnome was rubbing his head, then he climbed up on a giant deer and rode away. I picked up the rest of the tomato and ate it.

I was in a corn maze (you know, a maze made out of corn stalks). At first I was sure I knew where I was going, but I progressively realized that I had no idea. I put on moon shoes and jumped as high as I could, but that didn't do shit. I slit my wrists, but candy corn came out. It was delicious, but I didn't die. It was a lose/win situation.

I was in a horrible car crash. My spine was severely injured and I could no longer walk. I could move my arms, but mobility was very limited. I went through rehabilitation until I was able to feed myself. Then I got married to a ghost. That ghost was Paris Hilton, but more intellectual. She went on and on about Kierkegaard. I would have rather married Paris.

My hands were purple and fingernails where green, but everything else was white. Off white. Caucasian, actually. The color Caucasian. Is that a color? Anyway... I drove to see Glenn, still at his old house. I walk in and see the house has reverted back to a funeral parlor. I walk around trying to find him and instead find Bub and Glenn's dad holding each other and crying. Bub points to a KISS casket and I walk over to find Glenn smiling, resting peacefully wearing three salmon button-up shirts. As I begin to cry, he hops up and yells "J/K!" I ball up a purple fist and punch him in the face.

I was wearing The Crow make-up and you were wearing a tight green sweater. I felt like we had a lot of chemistry, even though we didn't talk to each other and I don't think you even looked at me. I thought you looked like a really nice person that would possibly want to watch The Crow and movies like that with me. If you are please meet me at Neuman's Circle Friday at 9pm, I'll be wearing a black trenchcoat and The Crow make-up

A syringe full of heroin, I think it was heroin, was being injected into my by a chimp. I was tied up and very fearful that I'd have a stroke because the chimp wasn't being very careful. Then a dump truck broke through the wall and Steve Martin was driving it. He beat the chimp up with the aid of brass knuckles, then untied me. We kissed. Does that make me gay?


  1. I think one of those belongs in the Missed Connections article.

  2. That does make you gay, whoever wrote that about Steve Martin.

  3. Not me, I don't even believe in Steve Martin.

  4. I was just covering up for Glenn, who is obviously gay and a Steve Martin fan.

  5. I remember that joke with the KISS casket, it was so funny when after you punched him in the face, he actually died!


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