Another installment of weird dream theater

{Note: when I told Beau about this dream, he summed up his feelings with the following sentiment: It's just a dream; it doesn't mean anything. Well, duh. So here it is, even though it doesn't mean anything.}

Beau and I went to a psychic, who told him that he and two other guys would die on motorcycles within a week. We were crushed. Beau started getting his ducks in a row and making arrangements.

Then I had an idea: How about just staying off the motorcycle for a week to see what happens?

What's this? Free will?

By golly, it worked! But, unfortunately, the two other dudes died.

So we had a horseshoe party/funeral for them in someone's backyard (of course!). People milled around, drank beer, and mourned. There were two big holes at the back of the yard with two (occupied) open coffins (they were old-timey, wild-west coffins that you had to nail together).

I went inside for a moment and looked out the window just in time to see a huge passenger jet crash down the street. I tried to get outside in time to warn everybody, but I was too late; a huge debris cloud enveloped everything in the backyard.

After the dust settled, I looked to the graves just in time to see one of the dead motorcycle dudes crawl out of the coffin and stroll away.

Those damn zombies always have to make an appearance somewhere. :)

I had the zombie dream again

I have zombie dreams a lot. I don't know why.

And, every time, my brain changes it up so I'll be prepared for anything in the oncoming zombie apocalypse.

Last time, the zombies had Jurassic Park T-rex sensibilities (they could sense movement, but their eyesight wasn't good, so if you stood reeeeeeally still, you could escape a brain chewing).

This time, you could stun them (and maybe change them back; I never got confirmation on that) with a blow dart.

I will pass on the zombie-escape tips as I get them.

You'll thank me.

Another Installment of Weird Dream Theater

Not so much weird as just plain stupid.

I dreamt I won an Oscar. For acting, of all things. I didn't remember doing so, but I had apparently appeared in one of the Twilight movies (in waking life, I read the books to see what all the fuss was about; let me save you hours of your life: don't bother following suit). I played a shapeshifter (which is interesting, because I don't recall shapeshifters in the books, but, you know, artistic license and all that). The shapeshifter spoke in a number of different accents, which apparently impressed The Academy. To be honest, I don't even know what a shapeshifter is.

I was at the Academy Awards (with a front-row seat; I delighted to note that Jennifer Anniston* was waaaaaay back there), presenting with Meryl Streep(!). She opened the envelope, squinted at the paper, and read my name. I was shocked, because I'd forgotten I was in a movie and didn't realize I'd been nominated. I made some stupid speech in which I forgot to thank family/friends/Beau, and I skipped the afterparty because I didn't think I'd know anybody there. Afterward, when I was home in my jammies, my mom called and said Did you see how utterly dumbfounded Meryl Streep looked when she saw that you'd won?? Thanks, Mom.

Fast-forward one year. I was nominated again (likely for another shapeshifter turn in a vampire sequel, but who knows?). But I didn't walk the red carpet (their reasoning was nobody really knows you... or cares who you are). The Beau was irritated because he didn't want to wear a tux. I won again, but it wasn't a big deal, so I just stuck my tongue out at Jennifer Anniston* and left.

The two Oscars ended up in the top of my closet.

*I don't have any beef with Jennifer Anniston, so I'm not entirely sure why she's the target for so much vitriol in this dream.

Yet Another Installment of Weird-Dream Theater

Last night I dreamt that I was sitting in an office (not mine) and I was served a subpoena. I opened it up and found out that I'd been called to testify by the company that makes K-Y Jelly. They wanted me to be a witness for the company and testify that the product really does work.

I was mortified. I don't want to talk about K-Y Jelly in public. Much less in a court of law with a stenographer on hand to record it all.

When I explained that I didn't want to talk about K-Y in public, some generic lawyer told me that I could either give my testimony or go to jail for contempt of court.

Another Installment of Weird Dream Theater

I often have WTF dreams. This one might be a WTF hall-of-famer.

I dreamed I was in someone's house and they had a red pet fish (it looked much like the red fish in One fish two fish red fish blue fish). Only it was the size of a cat. And it didn't live in water. It just kind of walked around the house on its two front flippers like a sea lion would.

I told its owner that their pet fish freaked me out.

Some point later, I looked at the fish only to find out that the fish was now a little Asian girl wearing a red dress.

She ate cinnamon incessantly (straight cinnamon, not cinnamon-flavored products).

When I asked why she ate so much cinnamon, someone said "She has to. Cinnamon is what keeps her batteries working."

WHAT???

Weird Dreams.

Last night, I dreamt that a bunch of folks were together at a party my beau's best friend (since birth) was throwing. It was in New Orleans. And I had one of my cats with me. Suddenly, he got everybody's attention and announced that, rather than a party, we were there for some sort of biker initiation. Then he announced that myself and the first boy I ever kissed (yuck, by the way) were going to duel. To the death. With handguns.

I didn't want to be a part of it, so I ran, cat in hand, through the streets of NOLA, trying to hide. Everybody in the party was after me because there was a price on my head. No matter where I went, it wasn't good enough. The Beau found me a couple of times, and though he didn't hurt me, he wouldn't help me. I wanted to get a hotel room so I could hide out, but all of the hotels had glass fronts and I'd be caught and killed while I was registering. And the cat, (understandably) upset and tired of being carried around, was constantly trying to escape.

It was exhausting. I hate waking up more tired than when I went to bed.