Dreams

There’s a reason you only dream when you’re asleep; dreams are fucking boring. Nobody wants to hear about your dreams. People always assume that their dreams are deeply meaningful, and that they contain some profound truth that the rest of the world needs to hear. But the thing is, when you tell us about your dreams, you sound like this:

“I was washing my car, and there was this leprechaun driving it, and then Doc yelled ‘We’ve got to get back to the future!’ So I roller skated over to the drive through window and the pharmacist told me I needed more iron, and he pulled out a broadsword, and then my unicorn ate it and said ‘Phlizbaggle tee jibbet’ and it made me sad even though I don’t speak unicorn cause I knew he was telling me my mom had died. Then I got in the roller coaster and David Hasselhoff was stroking my hair and telling me the moon would be back tomorrow, and I woke up crying.”

You’re a fucking idiot. Don’t speak to me any more. If some ultimate truth to the universe is revealed through that, I’ll risk missing out. Chances are, if you have dreams like that, I’m going to see you on the 6 o’clock news some night firing from a clock tower. I don’t need reporters at my house asking if I ever saw it coming. I’ll just tell them one of those crazy dreams and they’ll nod knowingly... and then I’ll get arrested because apparently I should have known this person was crazy.

In that vain, let me tell you about a dream I had. Yes, I know it makes me a hypocrite, but unlike you, my dreams are interesting. I dreamt that a fortune teller looked at my hand, told me I was about to die, then looked me dead in the eye and said “and the fortune is eerily accurate.” I woke up screaming. I’m sick of people in my dream predicting my death. That dream made my drive to work extra fun that morning. I ended up arriving two hours late. My boss wanted to know why I was so late, and I said “a fortune teller in my dream predicted my death so I didn’t get the car above 5 mph on my commute.” Don’t worry, I didn’t like that job anyway. I didn’t get fired for that, though; I got fired because I kept having wet daydreams. Apparently that’s distracting during meetings. Who knew?