I’m a dreamer.
Not a person who has grand aspirations and fantastic life plans- I just have lots of adventurous dreams that I remember with sometimes unsettling clarity in the morning. I think this may be a sign of genius. Well, maybe not, but (as I like to tell everyone) Robert Louis Stevenson got most of his stories from dreams. Imagine dreaming Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?
Since most of my dreams are strange, and I like being strange, I like to tell people all the details of my dreams. They may just think I’m weird, but I’m hoping that one day someone will finally realize that I’m just trying to open up and bond with them. Gosh people. Tune to my frequency already.
My dream last was particularly vivid. Everyone was exactly like real life, and all the places were true to life as well. The only thing different was the giant pink monster that stole my friend. This dream seems to be also part of a unintentional series. This “friend” is someone whose company I don’t particularly enjoy. But for some reason, every month or so I have a dream in which I’m in love with him. For the rest of the day, I have to separate dream from reality. It’s unfortunate, but I’m sure it’s good mental exercise. Anyway, here’s the dream:
I’m going for a run at night with another woman and The Man (the aformentioned “friend” who I will just refer hereafter to as “The Man”). We’re running down your average tree-lined, upper middle class suburban street (that closely resembled the neighborhood next to mine, where I like to go running). For some reason, the woman has to stop to rest, so The Man and I keep running and talking. We seem to be good friends in my dream. We head off the street onto a path in the woods. It’s a nice night and the moon is bright, but all of a sudden, he moves out of my sight. I assume a tree is blocking my view, but when I call to him, there’s no answer. I think he’s just playing a trick, but after a moment or two of frantic searching, I see him. I see him being dragged away by dozens of small, fleshy, pink octopus like creatures with slighly barbed tentacles. The weirdest thing about them is that as they cover him, they are morphing together into one giant self-enlarging blob (like the clasic horror movie “The Blob” featuring a young Steve McQueen…maybe I should take that vintage movie poster off my fridge).
After The Man is dragged away, I frantically run back to my apartment and hide in my room because I’m not going to try and be a hero or anything stupid like that. I realize then (in my dream not in real life) that I’m in love with The Man. Pretty soon, I see the tentacles of the Blob pushing their way under my door. Taking a screwdriver from my toolbox (which I actually have in my bedroom …guess real life preparation carries over into the dream world), I start stabbing the moster (which is now about as large as an average sized rhinoceros) until is retracts it tentacles. Then I push open my door and continue to hack away at this distugusting creature until it’s dead. Then Sean Connery and I (this is the one part of my dream that had that was as logic free as most dreams) cut open its main body to try and find The Man. The belly of the beast is made out of a strange dark pink canvas like material. Luckily my roommate isn’t home because she probably wouldn’t like me having a monster in the house. Sean and I don’t find The Man in the disemboweled fuchsia Blob. We assume he was in another one of the creatures or has already been digested. We decide to look for him, but I think that’s when I woke up. Sorry, The Man. All that Blob business must have reminded me so much of the beautiful Steve McQueen that I replaced The Man with McQueen as the main romantic interest of the story. C’est la vie.