Don't Watch The Dark Knight and Play The Sims Before You Go To Bed

I had the absolute weirdest dream I've ever had last night.

Have you ever seen Inception? Well, I swear I had a dream-within-a-dream. It started with me and a bunch of people at "school" -- it seemed like a school for the arts, and there were random people from my past and current life in it. These people changed a lot -- at one point I was walking around with my former best friend Nadia, another time I was with Alex Waner from Harlaxton, and another time I was with Scott and Tommy from work. There was a big renovation project going on at the school, so we were having a class in a big empty room with hardwood floors, and the walls were in the process of being painted gray.

Someone starts talking about how the Joker was on the loose again. Apparently we were living in Gotham City, and this wasn't completely shocking to us. It was nighttime, and our class was letting out for the day. Suddenly, someone notices that the ceiling was covered with drawings of little stick figures, each with a name written under it. Everyone in the class had their name under a stick figure. Waner gets up on the desk and pushes in the ceiling tile where his name was, and pulls down a beaker of blue liquid. Everyone does the same, except me. I'm really nervous about this, but all of the other people pull down their blue beaker of liquid and drink it. Immediately, it's evident that they've all been drugged. They start going crazy, like they're on LSD. I start yelling at everyone, saying that the Joker probably put them there, but they're all drugged. Suddenly, I'm all alone, and I'm faced with the possibility of walking home alone in Gotham City with the Joker on the loose. I know that he'll be back at some point, so I'm very creeped out, thinking that he could still be in the building. The whole building, which is being renovated, is dark, and I grab my backpack and manage to make it out unscathed, although I was certain that he was in the building following me (the building looked a lot like Harlaxton at night when you're not supposed to be in the state rooms but you are anyway because of the fire escape that's open in the basement . . . whoops.) And it was terrifying.

As soon as I make it to my apartment building, guilt sets in. All those drugged people are in that building, probably ready to be employed as the Joker's minions against their will. Also, I had forgotten my purse, with all of my ID's -- so the Joker, who would know that I hadn't taken the drugs and therefore knew that I knew what he'd done, could come to my apartment and kill me at any time. I decide I have to go back.

When I get back to the classroom, my beaker of blue liquid had been taken down from the ceiling and placed on a table in the middle of the room with a card with my name written on it. I am immensely creeped out, and then I see that he had laid out all of my cards on the table next to it, so he knew where I lived. Grabbing all of my stuff and turning around, I see him standing there.

He says, "Why did they all leave you alone?"
I say, "I don't know."
He says, "Well, go home, I'm not ready to play with you yet."

Then I wake up.

But I'm still dreaming. I'm in a luxury high-rise flat, which is apparently my house. I walk out into the amazingly bright, modern kitchen, and Scott and Tommy are eating cereal and each reading the paper at the island. I tell them my dream (I literally retold the entire thing in my dream.) (Also, we built a house on the Sims for me, Scott, and Tommy, and I played it before I went to bed.)

Scott says, "Stop doing drugs."
Tommy says, "I think the whole point of the dream was that she doesn't do drugs."
Scott says, "But dreams are just subconscious, so she probably really wants to do drugs, but doesn't want to be out of control."
Tommy says, "This isn't Inception."
Scott says, "How do you know?"


Then I woke up.

I THINK I REALLY AM ON DRUGS.

Sucktasticism

I'm very sorry, loyal readers. But I have been exploring a new creative endeavor: the Sucktasticism movement.

Sucktasticism (n.): The artistic movement in which one cannot get his or her shit together long enough to honor commitments and/or vague promises. Symptoms include watching large amount of television, dicking around on the internet, not blogging, playing The Sims, and not getting out of pajamas.

Basically, everything about you is garbage, and you sit around thinking up awesome ideas that never come to anything because you feel very lazy and don't want to do anything.

I'm trying to not completely submerge myself into Sucktasticism, but sometimes it's really hard--like when you come home every day and your parents have dinner ready. Or when you wake up at 11:30am and watch the Price is Right and then take a nap. Or when you just re-read all 7 Harry Potter books in one week.

I can give you life updates on my Sims (Mortimer Goth is boning Bella Bachelor, but she and his mom hate each other. Mortimer's dad quit his job as a CEO and became the Mayor of Sunset Valley.) That's art.

Take a voyage into Sucktasticism. But please, don't stay too long -- you might miss the season premiere of Dancing with the Stars.