Milk and Cookies Inspiration

So, I should be doing other things... such as sleeping, maybe, but I'm not really tired, mostly bored. I shall write instead, and then perhaps do some reading, in bed.

But first, I want to expand on my series of crazy dreams that occurred in the post midnight hours between the days of May 8th and 9th, 2008.

First dream, of four. I was in a park, perhaps Lincoln Park, over by the geese pond, gazing into the water, searching for lost thoughts - let's say. And I guess there's some playwriting contest festival-y thing going on that day. The theme behind the contest is writing a play that is concept driven rather than focusing on characters. Maybe something to do with an epiphany? [Mind you I wrote these notes after the last 3 of 4 dreams, and the first dream had many things that slipped away before my pen hit the page, kind of like Jerry writing out the world's best joke but it turned out to be undecipherable scribbles the next morning] Then, there was a beautiful boy there, and he fell in love with me, but too fast. He was making too many plans, so many that I couldn't keep up. Then his father was there, as we were walking across a bridge. His father was only in town for a night, and they were going to dinner. The boy invited me along, but I said no, that was ridiculous, I don't know you. The father told the son not to rush things, and handed me his business card. I don't remember what was on it, it's not important, or is it? Was it blank? I don't know. A bird shat on me, as we were crossing the bridge. I was disturbed, especially when the boy wiped it off without thinking. Really? Okay... There was some really witty dialogue, so witty in fact that I remembered it when I first awoke and was so proud and impressed with myself for having dreamt it, but then, alas I thought I would remember it. I repeated it to myself and I told myself to remember it. Yeah, let's just say that didn't really work.

Dream 2, of 4 - I wasn't participating, but watching the events unfold, helpless to the outcome. There was a family; husband, wife, 2 small daughters. This family was very important. They were trying to cross borders, a very dangerous thing to do. There was a succession of checkpoints. They had been briefed on the fact that there should be 2 guards at every post, each post was an ancient stucco archway, beautifully ornate. With hurried walks and darting eyes, they passed through the first three, no problem. Then, at the fourth, and final checkpoint, there was only one guard. It was useless to turn back after coming that far, the father thought they must press on, for what was their other option? Before they had time to consider alternatives, a man wielding a machine gun shot them all to the ground. As the family lay bloodied and dying, a thief robbed them of all their precious possessions. The littlest daughter cried out, using the last of her strength, "Why father!? Why!!" as the father lay choking on his blood. Off to the side of the archway I saw a cloaked woman with bright blue Tammy Faye-esque eyes.

Dream 3, of 4. This one was a bit weirder, and harder to explain because the scenes changed so rapidly and it was obscenely abstract. I'm standing in what I believe is "my" garage. It's the middle of the night, I'm with Smash McDash, and the police are there. There was an incident of drunk driving, on Smash's part. Apparently she crashed my family's gold mini-van (which we haven't owned for 10 years, classy mid-to-late 90s) and then perfectly parked it in the garage. Then, I guess she went out again and the cops pulled her over for weaving on her bicycle. She was able to get away because Paris Hilton outside, sitting in an empty bathtub, on a roof, with the curtain drawn. What? There was something about Dr. Pepper cans littered everywhere in the car, but really they reeked of booze. The cops caught Smash again, and she blamed everything on Dena. There was more to that dream, the places we had been, but they, too, floated away into the gray space of my subconscious.

Last of the 4. After witnessing the checkpoint massacre, I was walking past a fated flight - I knew this because the same Tammy Faye eyes lady was serving as the head flight attendant, so you know it isn't going to turn out good for anybody. As I'm walking through a parking lot, a flock of seagulls flies out of my shirt. Feathers and quills are everywhere, stuck in my shirt, teeth, and hair. I pull them out frantically, worrying about the diseases they carry... Not worrying about the fact that I have sea-faring birds flying out of me, but what strain of avian flu I might catch. Possibly a valid worry.

So, lesson learned. No more milk and cookies before bedtime. It's no wonder Santa Claus thinks his "reindeer" can fly, he's a crazy dreamer, too.