“I had the weirdest dream last night…”
22 Jun
by noahvail
You’re at your aunt’s house, except she doesn’t really look like your aunt; she looks like your seventh-grade math teacher. She’s tying to tell you something really important but her words come out all underwater-sounding like the parents in Charlie Brown. Suddenly you’re outside. You don’t know how you got there and the trees are swaying crazily. You feel a warm breeze. Then this guy walks up and…
Oh my god I am so fucking bored.
Unless your dreams involve lots of acrobatic sex with monsters and pirates , no one cares about them.
Your dreams, for the most part, are just clutter filling up the dustbin of your mind. And on those rare occasions when they are meaningful, they are still not interesting. So unless you are a child (or, again, monsters and pirates), shut up about your dreams.
And get off my lawn.
So in my dream last night, a whole bunch of poetry-quoting lobsters decided to have a poetry slam at my house. I don’t remember much about the poetry, but I was hosting the deal, walking around serving drinks and little shrimp appetizers (to lobsters, RIGHT?) and then the cops showed up because the neighbors were complaining about the free verse. The lobsters didn’t want to leave, so then Samuel Jackson showed up with his eye patch, except he was quoting lines from Pulp Fiction…..