In Dreams

I had a dream last night that I was just chilling by myself, sitting on a stoop somewhere.  A woman and her young daughter came along, and the little girl just up and sat on my lap.  The first thing I noticed was that she had a cat nose and patches of blue fur on her face.  Oh, and whiskers.  I was nice to her and asked her what her name was (I don't remember) and how old she was.  She said she was seven, and I commented on her fur.  She seemed a little embarrassed at first, and her mother said it's something they don't really like to talk about.  I told the girl that I thought her fur was really cute, and I wish I had some.  She giggled, and then I woke up.  I have a general rule about kids:  I hate them.  They annoy me to no end when I encounter them in the wild.  I run away from them like a level 5 mage stumbling across a full grown Adamantoise.  I avoid them like the plague if I see them in public.  Now I think perhaps I make such a fuss because I'm scared I'll never have any kids.  I'll certainly never be knocking any broads up; and right about now, there's no prospect of a partner with whom to rear a child.  I have a friend who in pre-dating stages, found out that the guy in interest wants a kid by the time he's 30, whether he's with someone or not.  Is it just me, or do you not tell people that?  I imagine a woman telling a man (she's never even met yet) that she wants a baby within three years, and I see him heading for the hills.  And with us it's different.  We can't just trick a guy into getting us pregnant if we're desperate.  We have to go through lengthy adoption processes (if you're even allowed to, depending on what state you're in) or deal with surrogacy.  Buying a bitch's baby is EXPENSIVE.  And then she can always back out until the little bastard is born.  I have friends who already have small children.  I can't imagine caring for a child at this stage of my life.  I admit that I really want to, but not for another ten years or so.  Until I feel like I'm in a better place in my life (and hopefully with a man who has Oprah money), I'll continue the charade that I abhor children.  Nasty little things.  Twat vomit and crotch fruit, the lot of them.

Living Nightmares

Well, I know what will be haunting my dreams tonight:

I Dream of Vaginie

What is that other opening to the right? Oh wait, my friend Keisha knows:



I had an interesting dream this morning. I'm grateful that I remembered it, since I have been having difficulty remembering my dreams lately. A nurse coworker was teaching me how to do a pap smear. Yep. I practice on a dummy vagina first. Rather, I should say dummy genitalia since the actual vagina is only the canal portion of a woman's ladyparts. I remember swabbing for cells on the cervix and swishing the brush around in the vial liquid. I was about to do the real thing. I remember being excited, and I said "alright, I'm about to insert the speculum" which I had already lubed up. Then just as I put it in, I woke up. Mercifully.

Boo, You Whore

Even though today was destined to be shitty day (and it did not disappoint in that respect), it started off great. I had a dream that I was a vampire and was sort of dating Vampire Bill from True Blood. I'm not particularly attracted to him, but in the dream he was HOT. There were no fangs, and there was no blood. Just lots of dry humping. We were in bed in our underwear, and I remember that he frightened the Black Baby Jesus our of me. Anyway, he was grinding himself on me and begging me to bone him. Mmm. Of course I woke up just before anything happened :(

So lady was singing the blues today, and I started getting frustrated at the littlest things. I was waiting forever to cross the street to my building, and it took so long I almost started to cry. Now I'm grumpy, starving, and I don't know what the fuck to make for dinner. I just want to eat fatty food, listen to sad songs, shoot things in a Wii game, and use several Bioré pore unclogging strips.

Sweet Dreams

I had a dream last night that I was taking part in one of those Food Network sugar competitions. I just remember pulling a packed sugar figurine out of a mold along with my co-chef (a sassy black woman of course). It was a little less than a foot tall, and it was our prototype. We knew if it went well, we would be making many more. It was a sugar statuette of Bea Arthur, complete with shoulderpads, gown shape, and what would eventually be a sequins clutch purse. This bitch was ready for the big charity ball! Sidenote: damn, those old bitches were always going to charity balls. Imagine how many jersey sequins super-scoop-neck-to-the-knee tops and floor-length skirts those twats had. !!! I know, right? I remember thinking that it was shaped so well and all we had to do was airbrush it. The interesting part was that it must have been brown sugar. I guess we were making Black Bea Arthur. You know that exclamation (well, you nerds might) "Merlin's beard?" Well, I want to start saying "Bea Arthur's beard!" It's not "fetch," I'm going to make this happen.

Sweet Dreams

I keep forgetting to share a strange dream I had two nights ago. I was in some sort of small cafeteria with tons of people. There was a shady group on the opposite side of the room from me consisting of Nick Cannon, Random Generic White Guy, and super cute blond guy. I could tell the blond was the leader of their little cohort, he just looked all evil. He motioned me over, and I didn't mind a closer look at him. When I got over there he had Nick Cannon use some power on me to choke me and make it so no one paid any attention to me. Imagine that! Nick Cannon with the power to be ignored. Surprising. Anyway, I broke free of that somehow, then I figured out that I needed to attack Jennifer Coolidge. Yes, Stiffler's mom. I don't know what that was about, but she was there and I approached her with the handle end a butter knife. I slowly stabbed it through her titty three times, passing between ribs in an attempt to get her cold, black heart. "Hey! Watch it!" is all she had to say in her funny voice before she slumped, and I woke up. How random is that?? I love Jennifer Coolidge. I don't know why I'd want to take her out. But I recognized that she was a threat, and I wouldn't let me love of her big ass and silly ways get in my way. Maybe that's the message.

Sidenote: She's one of those people I just can't picture young. What could she have looked like at my age? It's like that video of Rue McClanahan I saw a few weeks ago in which she's young and performing some sort of (hopefully ironic) burlesque dance. She just looks....exactly the same, but not wrinkly. It's not really sexy, it's actually rather disturbing. I don't remember if I posted it already, so if not, you have that shit to look forward to.

Sweet Dreams

Damn I had a crazy dream during my nap. First I was Samantha from Sex and The City. I was still dating Smith, and he came home to our balcony where I was waiting. I was wearing some kind of sexy white lingerie and looked about 26, not the old hag she is now. Smith came out to the balcony of our luxury apartment where I was waiting. I think we were doing some sexy roleyplaying game. He pulled out a gun, and aimed it at me, saying "it was a mistake to come unarmed." I knew it was part of the game, but that he was secretly serious and was going to kill me to get my money. He didn't think I knew the gun was loaded, and I pulled a tiny gun out of somewhere. Seriously, I think I had it in my snatch. He cocked his gun, but the bullet that was in it flew out of his and into mine, which transformed into a large silver and gold handgun. I cocked mine and shot at him, and then everything happened in slow motion. The bullet popped out little fins like on a missile and zoomed toward Smith, but it missed him and hit a wall, leaving a giant hole. The next thing I knew, I was myself and watching something happening on my front lawn. It was a platypus in a Greenman suit (you know, from It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia) dancing on his hind legs. All the while, during both dreams, the soundtrack was Ladytron's "Another Breakfast With You." fucking Bizarre.

Oh Sheesh, Ya'll; 'Twas A Dream

I had a dream last night that I had a very good elderly friend who was wealthy. In my dream he had the physical appearance of John Waters. He was dying, and he told me that his last wish was to become. . . intimate with me. I agreed seeing as he was dying and all. In the middle of it, he let me know that he was putting me in his will. Cha-ching!

In Dreams

I had a dream that my friend Brady and I were vampires, and we were searching for a companion to turn and spend our lives with. We could go in the sun and everything, but thankfully we were not sparkly. It was fun, I was jumping off buildings and such.

Then the dream shifted to my family throwing me a surprise wedding to Robert Pattinson, whom I had been dating. Only, on the invitations they referrred to him as "Mr. Edward 'Ice' Cullen," and I was pissed that they put the wrong name. Note that I never once saw him in the dreams.

In Dreams

I had a dream I was in a dark alley and three guys were harassing another man. The other man was asking me to help him, but I had the feeling he was actually one of them and trying to lure me over, so I said I couldn't help him. Then he got scared, pulled out money and offered it to me to help. I ran away. Then the guys started chasing me, and I was convinced they were going to try to rape me. Then I found myself at some crazy event that I guess was a gay pride gathering. There were innumerable tents covered with colorful cloths, and I was flying among them talking to people. I stole purple glitter tic-tacs from some girl. Then I ended up in the kids' section, and there was a little boy dressed as Velma from Scooby Doo. There was also a boy smurf there in drag. He was dressed in a red sequins jumpsuit with matching pumps.

Thank You For Being A Twat

I woke up this morning at 4:30 and luckily had the sense to write down the crazy shit I was dreaming. Let's begin. In the first one I was fighting against evil cylons. Caprica Six was on my side, but it was intense. They were throwing all sorts of bombs at us. Grenades, flashbombs and some kind of electrical blasts were going off all around us. Then we somehow figured out that their weakness was the blood of one of our comrades, George, the werewolf from Being Human. So naturally I bit his ear to the point it almost came off, and we used the blood to win the battle. Then I remember being at some party and seeing Madonna flirt with someone I knew to be the coach of the University of Michigan's football team. Who he actually is, I have no idea, but apparently he was there. Then I found myself in a dorm room with a bunch of old ladies, including Betty White. Betty was selling them drugs. I procured a glass ampule of something called tachycandia from her. Yeah, what the fuck? At some point, I realized I had a sewing needle in my hand, so of course I placed it in my tongue. Ages ago I had my tongue pierced, and I have a dream every now and then that it is that way again. It's usually a regular barbell though, not a sharp, tiny needle in my mouth. The last thing I remember is that I was playing with a bunch of kittens, but they were scratching the hell out of my hands. I think the cat dream was maybe due to the Laser Cat sketch on SNL last night. Fun fact: Betty White turns 88 today. Happy birthday, you lovely old bitch!

. . .

Two days ago I had another strange dream. I was living in an orphanage with my mother. She looked just like my real mother, but in this case she was a little person and my adoptive mother. All the other kids were also little people, but I was my regular size. For some reason, everyone was dressed in brilliant shades of indigo and cerulean. The kids were all singing an unfamiliar song in a language I couldn't understand, and there were subtitles in my dream which I couldn't read. My mother was in a rocking chair, holding me in her lap. I was sobbing and telling her how much I loved her and how grateful I was that she had adopted me. I think it's a guilt dream. My brother and I keep having to postpone visiting our mother, and it's been a while since I've seen her. Well technically she visited me in June, but I was knocked the fuck out from leg surgery and so loopy that I don't remember any of it. We've been talking a lot more recently, which pleases me. I always worry that I won't have anything to say or report to her, but I've found a fool-proof topic: cooking. I have her to thank for my interest in cooking, and I've realized there's always bonding to be done over variations on hollandaise sauce.

But Was It Rape-Rape?

I had another strange dream this morning. It was about rape, and it was kind of funny--stay with me here. I was in some woman's bedroom with a few other people. The woman was alternating between appearing to be Kathleen Turner and Morgan Fairchild (which was pretty fierce). Her look went as follows:

She wore a shimmering burnt orange wrap gown with gold accents and a high emperess collar: totally something Oprah would wear to the Legends Ball. Now that you've got the imagery down, I'll tell you that she was showing off her closet full of other fantastic dresses to us. She'd hold up an ensemble and let us know what it cost her.

The first--"Forty-thousand dollars."

The second--"Forty-thousand and a handjob."

The third--"Rape."

The fouth--"Rape-adjacent."

The Bends

Most mornings I wake up with a song playing in my head, even if I forget what it is right away. I awoke at 4:10 a.m. with the Lady Gaga song "Monster" running through my mind.




It proved to be an appropriate theme song. I was having such a bizarre dream that I mentally reviewed it and wrote it down immediately so I wouldn't forget. I've been having trouble remembering dreams lately, so I'm glad I got this one down.

In the dream I traveled with some friends, two girls and a guy, to visit another friend of ours who was working and living at a remote sub glacial station in Alaska. This friend, Jason, was based on a guy I knew in high school. It wasn't actually him, it just looked like him. He's a shorter, adorable fellow. I always thought his real life counterpart was "cooler" than me, but I felt flattered how he deferred to me in Spanish class because I was the know-it-all who never scored below an A+. Anyway, it was immediately apparent that Jason was not right in the head. His coworkers/stationmates were nowhere to be seen, and he didn't have any answers that made sense as to where they were.

We noticed that he had a jagged, fresh scar that wrapped around his right abdomen, but didn't say anything to him about it since it was clear we wouldn't get a coherent response. We also noticed the strange meals that were prepared around the station. They were big lumpy bundles of some kind of meat. Each was sewn together like a pouch with the same poor craftsmanship as Jason's wound. While he was in the bathroom, I opened one, and inside was the head of one of his coworkers. He had been baking their heads wrapped in a sheet of flesh sewn together at the top, like the boned duck in Julie & Julia. I also peeked in on him in the bathroom and saw him stuff a liver (somehow I knew it was a liver) from one of his dead friends into his side, then sew it back up. I figured out he was suffering from severe decompression sickness, like that guy in The Abyss, and part of his delusion was that he would gain strength from eating his comrades and annexing their organs.

My friends and I planned to get the fuck out of there ASAP while he was in the bathroom before he decided to go all Hannibal Lecter on us. Then out of nowhere, Chucky from Child's Play showed up and started chasing us, except he had black and red eyes and shark teeth. WTF?

Sugarplums and Serial Killers

I had a dream last night that a friend of mine had someone she really wanted me to meet. She said I would be excited to see her. When she moved aside to reveal an Asian girl, I did indeed get excited and blurted, "Utada Hikaru!" I thought I was meeting the pop icon songstress of whom I am a great fan, but apparently it wasn't her. They all acted offended that I would just see an Asian girl and assume it was Hikki because, you know, they all look alike. I tried to explain that it wasn't latent racism but that they really did look similar, but it only made me sound more guilty.





I guess it was better than a dream, well nightmare, I had a few nights ago. I was watching some version of Halloween with Ms. Jamie Lee Curtis, and the movie was just about over. The final scene was of a girl who looked just like Amanda Seyfried of Mean Girls and Big Love fame. In a sunny, wooded area there was a log with her head poking upright through a hole in the log. Another girl who could have been her twin leaned into frame and started kissing her. As the new girl left, I could see red marks on the first's face as if she had been lightly sunburned where the two touched. An instant later, her entire face was covered in Freddy Kreuger burns and she turned to look at me, terrified. That's when I realized Michael Myers was in the room with me now, and Jamie Lee Curtis was nowhere to be found. He didn't have his mask on, but he had a large razor blade in his hand. He started slicing the top of my left hand with quick strokes. It stung and left marks, but the blood wasn't flowing. He kept taunting me that I didn't know if this was real or fake, and it scared the hell out of me. Out of nowhere I was gripping over sized scalpel, which I then used to stab him a few times in the chest with no effect. He pulled out a snub-nosed revolver and pointed it at my face. I crumpled to the ground, crying now, knowing that he was about to kill me. That's when I woke up sobbing hysterically. Do I need therapy?

Nightmares and Dreamscapes

I had this fucked up dream last night. People were presenting building proposal models to me for some reason. One of the guys who made a little model was Chuy from Chelsea Lately, and he made a hole in the model through which he stuck his junk. And it was impressive junk. I wonder what Freud would think? He'd probably do a bump of coke then tell me I want to fuck little nuggets. Seems pretty accurate.