I had the following dream last night, which was unusually long and I somehow managed to recall in vivid detail:
It started off with a recurring nightmare with my mother and I in that scene from the original Jurassic Park where a rainstorm knocks out the power to the electric fence that keeps the T. Rex fenced in. We are in the Jeep like those two kids when the dinosaur comes out and tries to attack us.
Figure 1: My dreams fucking suck
My nightmare is, however, different than the movie in three ways:
- I am armed with a sword for some reason
- I try to fight the dinosaur
- I kill the dinosaur by stabbing it in the brain through the eye, but then it falls on me and kills me
Usually I wake up at this point, but last night was different. Last night the dream continued past my crushing, as my soul exited my body…and went straight to Hell.
In Hell, I found out that my brother is Satan. Seriously. My soul was taken to the throne room of Hell and none other than my older brother came out from behind a curtain and sat down on the throne. My brother did not look like the devil. He had neither horns, nor pitchfork, nor hooves, nor was he even wearing red. He was, in fact, wearing the same brown Gucci suit he wore to my cousin Ramon’s wedding. Oddly enough, I don’t recall being surprised by any of this in the dream.
Figure 2: The awful truth about my brother
I don’t remember what my Satanic brother said to me; all I know is that my punishment involved me being reincarnated as 6th grade teacher at my old elementary school. Here are the highlights from my stint as an educator:
1.) Somehow, the kids already know that I’m Native American. When I walk through the doors of the school, they have built a bonfire in the lobby and are dancing around it like Kevin Costner in ‘Dances with Wolves.’ The principal is participating.
2.) I introduce myself as ‘Mr. Johnson’ for some reason (this is not my real last name), but the kids refuse to address me by any name other than ‘Chief Runny Colon’.
3.) I have two teaching assistants. I have to go upstairs for a meeting with the vice principal, and I leave my students in the charge of the TAs for ten minutes. When I return to the classroom, my teaching assistants are holding a poker tournament with the students, and they are using real money. Most of the female students are being used as cocktail waitresses and are serving booze. EVERYONE is drunk. It’s at this point that I realize my TAs are Michael and Dwight from ‘The Office’.
4.) For whatever reason, I’m supposed to teach Calculus to 6th graders. The poker tourney inexplicably vanishes and the kids are all in their seats. I’m in the middle of explaining derivatives when some kid behind me yells “YO TEACH! MATH IS FOR NIGGERS!” The kid is Vietnamese. He is also wearing a Rayden hat. The black students jump out of their seats and beat the living shit out of him. I do nothing to stop it. I am subsequently fired.
Figure 3: Did I mention this asshole was the principal?
I woke up at 4:30am laughing my ass off.
You may be wondering why I would hate dreams if this one made me wake up laughing. I’ll tell you why. Because there’s something in my subconscious that’s telling me:
- I’m going to Hell even if I die fighting a 7 metric-ton prehistoric apex predator to save my mother’s life
- 11 year old girls can be cocktail waitresses (I suppose this explains the whole ‘Hell’ thing)
- I associate Asians with Rayden
I’ve had the regular dreams, sex dreams, and superhero dreams that anyone could consider normal and aren’t too difficult to explain. I cannot, however, explain the dream where I’m in a Kay Bee Toy store beating ninjas to death with a fire extinguisher. I cannot explain the dream where my father and are are Achilles and Hector dueling like Brad Pitt and Eric Bana in ‘Troy’. I cannot explain the dream where I walk into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, shoot Willy in the head, then turn around only to be shot in my own head by none other than Katie Couric.
Just take a moment to imagine some of the sick shit you’re encountered in your dreams. Now, try to come to the understanding that it’s all coming from within your own mind, and that your dreams are only as fucked up as you are. Disturbing isn’t it?