Did You All Get the Special Edition Jennifer Dream Decoder Ring on Black Friday?

‘Cause I didn’t. I didn’t even leave the house. But I had a pretty interesting dream last night and was hoping maybe one of you had gotten in on that deal.

So, I was an agent with some clandestine super secret squirrel organization. I was assigned to the night shift protecting some guy that lived way off the grid. The client was a paranoid nut job, but he was important to my employer. He was supposed to be some kind of genius and knew something no one else knew. He’d reported a stalking/threat type situation and so I was assigned babysitting duty.

He lived in a cabin deep in the woods with a giant black dog. Think mastiff sized. The client suffered from chronic insomnia brought on by his fear of this stalker, and so rather than sleep at night, he would sit in the front room of the cabin and talk to me. This went on for several nights. I would patiently listen while scratching behind the giant dog’s ears. Sometimes I’d bring the dog treats.

The client described his stalked as a man in sunglasses, a black hat, and pointy toed boots. The client still saw the man outside the cabin on many nights. I never did, but the dog would often growl in the direction the client said the man had been. Nothing ever triggered the motion lights I had set up on the perimeter, but the client assured me that the man was purest evil and was coming for him one day.

He didn’t only tell me about his stalker though. Some nights he would regale me with stories of his own secret spy days and his research. We developed quite the rapport. I thought of him less like a client and more like a distant uncle with nuggets of wisdom that would slip out in between the rambling of a dementia addled mind. I rather enjoyed his company. The dog would often snuggle up beside me on the sofa.

Having nothing better to do, I picked up some scraps from the butcher shop and headed out to the man’s shack early one night. Only to find that the normally well-behaved pooch had attacked the day shift agent. I couldn’t just call an ambulance because the man’s location was top-secret. But the man assured me that he would be fine while I rushed the other agent to help just as long as I returned before dark.

I returned at dusk to find the cabin burned to ground and the giant black dog was dead. Standing in the ashes was my client, wearing dark sunglasses, a black hat, and pointy toed boots. He was the stalker. The evil was inside him and had taken him over while I was gone.

And scene…

That’s it. All I got.

A Double Header!

In the weird dreams department.

First:

Michael and I finally got the time and money to go on a real vacation. We picked a grand hotel with an unusual attraction. From the top floor of the hotel, you could hop on a zip line that would take you through a portal to Brazil.

Wheee! Once in Brazil, you had to find the special train that could take you back to the basement of the hotel. It was not just some normal subway train either, oh no! To board the train, you had to stand on a special platform which dropped you down into the train.

The people in Brazil wore only t-shirts and roller skates. Yes, that was all. Yes, they were very well groomed, of course*.

So I woke from that, as one would and settled back down.

There was a casual dining restaurant built into a cliff face overlooking the water. The restaurant was long and narrow to allow for all patrons to enjoy the view. I was meeting some friends for lunch and was walking through looking for their table. Something caught my attention and I spun around to see what was behind me. It was me. With a short pixie haircut and dressed like a fairy (The glitter and wishes kind, not the flamboyant gay kind). She (I?) raised her (my?) bow and aimed an arrow at me (erm?). Just then, some kind of sprite materialized and threw something at the fairy causing her to miss her shot. She gasped and collapsed onto the floor.

I ran to her aid. (Why I would attempt to help someone that was trying to shoot me, I have no idea.) She confirmed that she had indeed been sent to shoot me for reasons** and to save her I would have to catch the sprite. I would have to catch him in an enchanted butterfly net and pour him into a jar.

So off I ran through the restaurant toppling tables and upsetting guests on my way. I caught him just outside the restaurant headed down the rocks towards the water. Unfortunately, I had broken the jar when I stumbled on said rocks. I decided to improvise and shove him into a discarded beer bottle that I found on the beach.

With bottled sprite*** in hand, I returned to the restaurant to hand him over to the fairy me. She took the bottle, shook it up, and drank the sprite. And then she shot me with an arrow.

The End

*Apparently even my subconscious can’t resist a terrible joke.

**It’s always for reasons

***I know, visual puns are bad, m’kay

Now Where Did THAT Come From

Oh the subconscious adventures of sleeping Jennifer!

I was in school and living in the campus dormitory. The way these rooms were set up, there was a common area (kitchen, living room, bathroom) with two bedrooms attached. My roommate was a flamboyant male-to-female transgender with an affinity for short skirts and white go-go boots. I have no idea when she ever got to her studies as it seemed she was always up to some kind of crazy shenanigans which I invariably got reluctantly roped into.

In the latest scheme, she had devised a wildly popular intoxicating beverage that she was selling around campus. I refused to partake in this concoction since I knew how it was made, a process that took place in a crock-pot utilizing a giant hamburger named Bernard. He was huge and greasy and his buns were stale. I found Bernard to be repulsive and evicted him and his crock-pot from the common kitchen.

This led to several arguments with my roommate as I kept finding Bernard in various locations around the apartment. ‘No, you cannot keep Bernard in the bathroom. I brush my teeth in there.’ And a rather heated discussion when I arrived home to find that my roommate had company and so had stashed Bernard in my room so as to not reveal her secret ingredient to her guests/customers.

As entropy demands, eventually Bernard went bad (worse?). And again, I was reluctantly roped into some madcap hijinx aimed at finding a replacement for Bernard. Which culminated into us throwing a giant party complete with DJ, a light show, and multiple disco balls, because reasons.

Yeah, I don’t know either. I woke up just as confused as you are right now. Probably more so. I do find it hilarious that I cannot recall whether or not my roommate had a name, but the hamburger most certainly did.

Blargh

Sick for the last couple of days. I believe I am on the mend. Sorry for the lack of content.

Why is it that fighting off a bug causes such oddball dreams?

I dreamed that for some reason we were staying with my parents for a few days. I had left my laptop out in the living room over-night. My laptop has a couple of cracks in the case, and in my dream, my dad took it upon himself to “fix” it.

Now I should point out that my dad does meddle and mess with things that are none of his business, but he is actually pretty handy with things in real life. When I was a kid I believed he could fix anything. Including a tissue that I shredded just to challenge his skills. He was Mr. Fix-it to little Jenni. Remember Mr. Fix-it from the Richard Scarry books?

Picture via Scratchpad

Picture via Scratchpad

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anyway

If he knew my actual laptop had cracks in the case, it would annoy him to no end, but I doubt that he would actually do anything about it. He certainly wouldn’t pull out the guts and build my laptop into some lucite box of his own creation like he did in my dream.

And it didn’t work. I mean, it would boot up, but it wouldn’t connect to WiFi. I was mad. Spitting, seeing red, angry. Teenaged yelling in the front yard, angry.

So I did what any completely rational adult would do and barged into their bedroom.

And there were my parents. Just hanging out in their comically giant bed…

with Snoop Dogg. Who was dressed in a red track suit and seemingly quite entertained by my tirade.

Yeah. I don’t know.

What The?

So I dreamed that Ann Coulter was stalking me. Early on, we were friends, but then it just got weird.

She started following me around and showing up in unusual places. And she was drinking my blood. With a straw.

I finally had to call her out in front of an audience. Told her she needed and intervention. She said we could work it out. I told her she had gone too far.

Yes, I can see what my brain was getting at. Ann was clearly the symbol of the GOP. First we were friends and then she became a parasite that just wanted more and more. I just wish my brain could be a little less graphic sometimes.

What Was In That Drink

More strange adventures of sleeping Jen

We were in Japan this time and Ambulance Driver had discovered the single cajun restaurant in the country and insisted we check it out. OldNFO rolled his eyes saying, “You don’t eat cajun food in Japan.” AD was not to be dissuaded, so off we went.

Taking the advice of OldNFO, we stuck to the drink menu. I’m not really sure what it was that Nancy ordered, but what she got was a giant platter of fried eggs. I think there were at least a dozen over-easy eggs. AD’s bucket of crawfish turned out to be one large crustacean with three tails and still moving. Other dishes were similarly adventurous. We helped Nancy eat the eggs.

On the way back to the hotel, we somehow got separated from the group. Which didn’t seem like a big deal because we figured we could find the place since it looked like an old railway station. We were traveling on foot. Every so often we’d approach an entrance to some raised tunnels. Cute little Japanese girls would stand up on their tippy toes and pull down a telescoping ramp and invite us to ride the ‘slider man.’ Having no idea what a ‘slider man’ was, where it would go, and what it would cost, we declined.

Somewhere along the way, my phone got stolen. LawDog appeared out of nowhere to chase down the thief. He caught him, but the thief dropped my phone in the process where it was run over by a ladder truck.

OldNFO laughed about our adventures when we finally made our way back to the hotel and explained that the ‘slider man’ was an elevated moving sidewalk that would have delivered us right to the front door of our hotel and was provided free of charge to all tourists. That was probably how we’d gotten separated because they had all gotten on.

And then all was right with the world.

The end.

It Is Strange In Jennifer’s Head

I dreamed several of us* were all at Weird Al’s birthday party. He had a meadow out back. Like a straight out of a Disney movie meadow. He would walk out and rub the squirrels’ bellies. A bird landed on his head, and he fed marshmallows to the deer.

Sean Sorrentino was there, but Weird Al just kept referring to him as the guy in the blue shirt. And he didn’t arrive with the other party guests, he was already outside hiding behind a rock when we got there. He popped up from behind the rock and all the little animals ran away. He bumped into a shelf which knocked a squirrel and a chipmunk into the pond, which annoyed the beaver.

We ate brisket with chips and salsa, no birthday cake. Michael insisted on carefully arranging the chips on our plates for “maximum salsa infiltration.” He then applied the salsa with a ladle.

At no point did Weird Al wish me a happy birthday, which is awful rude considering that if it was his birthday then it was my birthday too, yeah.

*And you were there…

Weird

In my dreams last night, there was some major news story about infidelity.  It started out fairly reasonable with advice and things to watch out for, that kind of thing.  And then the talking heads whipped it all up into some kind of frenzy, enraging housewives across the nation.  Seriously, they were storming offices.

So there I was standing in the parking lot trying to explain to five soccer moms that one: I don’t even have a male subordinate and my male boss isn’t married; two: I don’t know their husbands; and three: even if I did, I wouldn’t be sleeping with them as I am quite happily married myself, when one of the harpies hauls off and punches me in the gut.

I actually cried out in my sleep. I knew I was dreaming at the time, but the reaction was a ‘holy crap that actually hurt!’ It woke me up.  It woke my husband up and caused some concern.  I explained that I was fine and went back to sleep.

The weird part: my abs hurt like hell this morning.  Like some psycho harpy punched me in the gut or something.

Mr. Sandman,

When you bring me a dream,stick with the cutest that I’ve ever seen. Please leave out the violent harpies.Mr. Sandman, take back this dream.