DREAMS THAT MAKE YOU GO HMMM…

Maybe it’s the hormones, or lack of them, but I have the most bizarre dreams. And not the prophetic kind you’d find in the Bible, like Jacob’s ladder or Pharaoh’s seven cows and heads of grain on a single sheath, a dream so profound he needed Joseph to interpret them. No, instead, mine are strange and defracted, with no meaningful correlation, sort of the Cirque du Soleil of dreams, and if they were ever interpreted I’d probably be committed.

One morning, in the early stages of writing the first draft of my memoir, I woke up after visiting the land of Nod with a vision that got my creative juices flowing. I dreamt I actually incorporated my nightly dreams onto the pages of my writing—and with brilliant effect.  And so, with pen and paper at the bedside, I recorded my nightly hallucinations upon waking each morning, sure the idea would make my book an instant bestseller.

Monday’s dream: I’m in a living room I don’t recognize that is over-filled with furniture. My daughter is a young child and has a cold. I wipe her runny nose with a tissue from my pocket, but instead of cleaning her face, the snot falls to the floor and instantly turns into scrambled eggs, which I sweep up with a broom I find in the corner of the room.

Tuesday’s dream: I’m in a deserted park, sitting in the passenger seat of an old VW bug, and a man is crying, begging me to marry him. The man is the comedian Tim Allen and he’s wearing a woman’s wig and a floral housecoat, and a shade of lipstick that doesn’t suit his complexion. I say no to the proposal.

Wednesday’s dream: The details are hazy, but it involved me, a bathtub, and a German Shepherd I swear was grinning.

Thursday’s dream: I’m stuck in a deep pit, sort of like that one from The Silence of the Lambs, with the character Eric, from the show Entourage. We take a brief pause from our escape efforts to make-out, before making a rope out of our hair and climbing out.

Friday’s dream: I’m hanging out with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. This is possibly a continuation of a dream I had years ago (that my daughter’s will never let me live down.) In that particular dream I was dating the turtle Raphael. At least I think it was Raphael, all of those Ninja turtles look alike.

Saturday: I throw away the notebook, have two glasses of wine and some Nyquil so I can get a decent night’s sleep, and pray for a normal dream, the kind where someone is chasing me with a pick axe while wearing a mask of Ronald Reagan.

And to think—Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity was inspired by a dream.