Aardy R. DeVarque (aardy) wrote,
Aardy R. DeVarque

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Why I don't need drugs

Who needs hallucinogens (or even a choice between red & blue pills) when you have dreams like mine?

Two nights ago, I dreamed I was playing Quake 3 (actually in the game, not just playing it), except that all of the opponents were characters from Aqua Teen Hunger Force. And I don't even watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force!

Then last night came a doozy. I don't remember even half of it now (which is perhaps for the better).

Back in dinosaur times--except partially set in a modern-day library--I was faced with being overrun by hungry dinosaurs, mainly a lot of dilophosaurs a la Jurassic Park and a T-rex. Two small dinosaurs that were allied with me transformed into rotating gun turrets and before I knew it, I was surrounded by carcases of dead dilophosaurs. I don't remember exactly what happened to the T-rex, except that that was another whole chapter of the dream in itself, and it ended on a green field, which turned out to be some sort of open-air car rally.

There, I somehow ended up part of the Dukes of Hazzard cast and met up with Daisy Duke, played by Jessica Simpson (except with 3 breasts & almost no butt), who took me to a bar to meet her brothers, played by John Schneider & Top Wopat as they looked 20-some years ago. I somehow managed to avoid a bar-fight the brothers were about to start, and ended up downing some pitchers of beer with them instead.

From there I ended up an actor in the cast of a well-known play (this morning, I could still remember which one, but I don't now), except we were still learning our lines, and then having cast pictures taken.

At least, I think that was the order of events; things are now all blurring into mush. Somewhere around there, I woke up. There were probably 3 or 4 more "chapters" to the dream, and for about a half-hour after I woke up, most of them were still pretty vivid in my memory, but they've since merged back into the ether of my subconscious; I kinda wish I'd made time to journal about this earlier in the day. Oh well. I don't normally remember that many details from my dreams (at least, not for more than a minute or three, tops), but that level of weirdness sounds about par for the course for the lasting impressions that have stuck around of whatever.

(For what it's worth, as far back as I can remember and unlike most people I've heard of, I've never once in my life dreamed that I was flying, nor that I naked in school on the day of a test I didn't study for or any of the other stereotypical "Zo, tell me aboot yur treamz" dreams. On the other hand, I also usually dream at least partially in color, and can clearly and easily read any text that happens to be in my dreams. Make of all that what you will.)

I wish I could be even half that creative (if a bit more focused, directed, and sane) when I want to sit down and write some fiction. -sigh-

Freudalism: Serf & Mom
Tags: dreams

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