31 May 2005

Over the course of the last few weeks, more specifically and memorably the last few days, I have had some extraordinary, bizarre, vivid dreams. For everyone's reading pleasure, the next few sentences will briefly describe a dream that I had Saturday night. Whether or not the 4 pints of beer and two glasses of Bailey's induced these dreams is debatable.

The whole thing started, and I was working as a roving reporter during the Academy Awards. One of my best friends from high school was actually the emcee of the ceremony, which, for some reason, was occuring not in Hollywood, but on the corner of some random street. During a commerical break, I suddenly realized that I needed to go home. On my way out of town, I stopped at the McDonald's drive-thru and was ordering when the voice from the box asked me to come inside. When I went in, I found that the person taking the order was the head trainer for Walt Disney World Guest Relations Global Training. He asked me I were going to go home to see my son, which I answered promptly, "yes." Odd.

Of course, most dreams are not continuous; that is to say that we wake up and have several dreams throughout the night. And I am certain this is the case with this dream, although it made its way back to the Academy Awards. First, however, I arrived home and decided I wanted to visit my grandparents. At this point, however, I was drunk, so I started driving to my grandparents' house on a Vespa when I was picked up by a police officer who happened to be Lily Tomlin. She told me that she would let me go this one time, but warned me that perhaps my grandparents were the nice, sweet old people I thought they were--perhaps they were involved in some sort of crime ring. As I drove down the street, I found myself back at the Oscars and decided to take over the job of emcee, but I couldn't find the next category. At some point after that, I was outside of the house from which we were broadcasting, and I saw a girl who looked a lot like Kirsten Dunst, but was not Kirsten Dunst, and somehow I knew her quite well. Shortly thereafter, I woke up. Eh. That's it.

25 May 2005

My punk rock name is "The Benevolent Spirograph." That's it. This is all I have. My creativity has been eaten by my job.