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.

Dreams and Nightmares

DREAM
Last week, Tuesday night

Apparently Zac Efron and I are in a movie together. Since it was literally in my dream, if Zac and I ever become the next Hollywood power couple, I can say “my dream has come true!” and it’s a totally legitimate statement. Anyway, I am the up-and-coming unknown actress and he is the superstar, so we went on a series of mall tours throughout America to promote our movie and get my face recognized. For reasons unknown, my sister has tagged along on this tour. Me, her, and a few random friends are in a mall on a raised platform surrounded by hundreds of screaming girls—and Zac is nowhere to be found. I’m calling him, panicked, leaving him voicemail after voicemail, texting him. “Zac! Where are you? Pick up!”

The girls are getting PISSED. Eventually a lot of them leave, and there’s only about twelve of them left. Zac runs around the corner in workout gear (looking, not surprisingly, like he does in 17 Again in his basketball uniform – a.k.a. BEAUTIFUL – like he just got done working out.)

“Hey, sorry, the volcanic ash from Iceland delayed my trip from London,” he says, like it takes only a few minutes to get from there to here.

Suddenly, the girls attack. The twelve start running after us, and soon the whole 400+ mob of girls are chasing us through a random mall. Zac grabs my hand and pulls me along, and finally we manage to jump down this weird escape shaft thing in the wall, kind of like a dumbwaiter but smarter. We land on a big pile of insulation which naturally freaks me the fuck out, since I’m terrified of it in real life and, apparently, dream life, so Zac heroically pulls me up onto a ledge.

We glance at each other shyly, and he puts his arm around me, and then . . .
My alarm goes off. /endfairytaleromance


NIGHTMARE
last night

I’m in the hospital. No idea why, I’m not in a gown. There’s all these babies sitting in the waiting room chairs like adults, in three-piece suits and bowler hats, with newspapers, crossed legs, talking on a cell phone, knitting, like those creepy posters that show babies playing the saxophone and shit. I look down and I’m in scrubs, I’m apparently a doctor. I look back up at the babies and they have all started to walk toward me, now with just diapers on.

With a look of sheer horror I realize that THEY ALL HAVE NEWBORN BELLY BUTTON, a.k.a. that glob of leftover amorphous blobby umbilical cord. I turn around and scream and run down the hallway.

Girls: DON’T PUT PICTURES OF YOUR NEWBORNS ON FACEBOOK. You give me nightmares. And please warn me before I accidentally click on one of your “look-at-my-pregnant-belly” photos so I can close my eyes and click through them really fast. Kthanksbye.