Craven

Z wakes me up - she needs to go out.  I get out of bed, pull on some jeans, and walk to the door to get her leash.  I see that my front door is open by about a foot, and I am aghast at myself for leaving it that way all night.  I go over to close it, and notice that in the front of the door is a sheet of paper held in place with a huge, military looking dart.  The sheet of paper has one word on it, "CRAVEN."

Weebles DO fall down.

Last night. I've taken the shape of a Russian nesting doll, but my bottom end is rounded, like a Weeble Wobble. I'm lying on my back.

My head, or rather, the upper part of my body, is generating religions. All the religions that have ever been, and brand new ones as well. They come out of my body like multi-colored bubbles, some little, some almost as big as me. I do not understand any of the religions that I'm spawning, but I feel like I should, since they're coming out of me.

The lower half of my body is giving birth (without the benefit of a birth canal or any sort of vaginal opening) to hundreds of multi-cultural babies. Babies of all colors, all creeds. They are all speaking in different tongues. I cannot understand anything they're saying.

The fact that I cannot fathom the complex belief systems nor interpret the words of the infants I'm begetting causes me great consternation. I grow more and more anxious with each religion and baby that pops out of me. They come faster and faster, and my bewilderment and fear builds.

Am I elmer Fudd???

Elmer Fudd dies a violent death. But...is Elmer actually me?

Twofer Tuesday

First.
Kirk convenes a tribunal to judge my sins against humanity. I ride up, up, up in an elevator in an incredibly tall building. I get out at the right floor and turn to a set of closed, oversized double doors. They swing slowly outwards as I approach, revealing the Justice League Unlimited standing behind them. They glower.

Second.
Typical anxiety dream. I'm driving to work, about halfway there, when I realize that I forgot to get dressed. I'm completely naked. Do I go home and get some clothes on? If so, I'll be very late. Or do I continue on as is, and hope that nobody notices? My alarm went off, so I didn't find out.

Felix

I'm standing on a balcony. Outside are hordes - millions, billions, maybe - of people. They all chant, "Felix, Felix, Felix..."

The Ranch

I lived on a ranch. A small ranch, but still most of the people chose to wear overalls. The ranchhouse only had one bathroom, and it was large. On one side of the large bathroom was an old-fashioned jailcell. Don't ask me why - it just came with the house. On the other side of the bathroom was a toilet and sink. No tub. So what with the jailcell (large enough for 4-5 people), the toilet and the sink, the large bathroom felt kind of cramped.

Anyway. That's not my dream. My dream is this.

I lived on this small ranch with my family. One day, the ranch was visited by a couple of international criminals (disguised as normal people in overalls), and black ops agents with no insignia on their very expensive black kevlar coated outfits. They may have been government agents, but could just have easily been on the other side. And Tea Leoni was there too. Somehow, the kevlar-coated agents backed the two international criminals into the jailcell in the bathroom without the rest of my family knowing. I sent Tea Leoni in there, because I needed her to distract the main bad guy long enough for me to kill him. After all, if I didn't kill him, he could hurt my family, or escape, or...I dunno, something. She distracted him by going down on him. I was surprised - I thought she was more cleancut than that, and she's married to David Duchovny and everything. But I shook off my surprise, and shot the main bad guy. And then the other bad guy. And then there was a lot of shooting, and it turned out that I had shot and killed everyone in the room. I had shot them so much, and so violently, that their body parts were in bloody chunks (mostly in the jail cell, but some had oozed past the bars.) Some of the smaller chunks had disintegrated into piles of dirt.

I looked around and realized that I had to get it all cleaned up, and get rid of the evidence before anyone found out what happened. I started to clean up, but it was all just so overwhelming. Then my brother (or was it my sister?) started pounding on the bathroom door. We only had the one bathroom, and they had to go. Bad. I looked around. There was absolutely no way I would be able to clean up the remains before the rest of my family needed to use the bathroom. I had to think fast. I realized, with relief, that I didn't have to clean up all the bodies. I could just tell everybody the truth, that there were two criminals that had come to the house, and some guys in kevlar, and Tea Leoni, and I had shot the main baddie out of self-defense and good old American vigilantism. Then bullets started flying, and everybody else wound up dead. I was just about ready to open the door when I realized that ballistics would prove that all the bullets had come from my gun. I was trapped after all.

But I'm not a jogger.

I left school and decided to walk home, becuase it was such a beautiful day. I walked along the freeway, and broke into a jog. I was wearing jeans and the wrong kind of shoes, but it was such a gorgeous day that the jog felt really good. I took the turn by the offramp, pretty sure that I was supposed to veer left. I kept running, and the view started to seem more and more wrong. No problem - I stll had plenty of time. I turned around and started running back to where I had taken the wrong turn. There was now a small (maybe 10 inches across) stream of water to my left, but the water in it was rushing very fast. There were a lot more shadows than before, and I started to get nervous. All of a sudden, I saw a huge gar in the water, much bigger than could fit into that kind of stream - maybe 8 feet long and 18 inches in diameter. It was alive, and snapping, trying to get little drops of water in its mouth as it was swept forward by the current. I tried to run faster. As I passed a tree, I realized there was a huge (read King Kong size) boa constrictor coiled behind a tree. It sprang.

Chili is pretty gross when it's cold.

rapidly cooling chili with congealed cheese, an abandoned castle, kidnapping, murder, Andrew McCarthy, Ren Fest and stunted children. I don't know what all these things have in common anymore, but I do remember that they were all in the same dream.

The Raven

Someone gave me a live raven for Christmas. You know, to use as a messenger pigeon, or rather, a messenger raven. Only nobody that I know uses birds to communicate - they all use phones, or email, or text messages. So the bird just kind of hung out in my apartment. And pooped on the floor, because it didn't come with a cage - just a wooden perch so that it could swoop out the window at a moment's notice when ever I had a message for it to deliver. Which I never did.

wild dogs and crackhouses

It's twilight, and some friends and I are walking past a long row of crackhouses by the bayou. The crackhouses aren't your usual broken down, boarded-up-window shacks though. They're really nice 1930's houses, big, well-maintained, clean. They just have huge heaps of trash around them, and lots of glassy-eyed people cowering in corners and on the lawns. I say lawns, but there is really just a bunch of concrete.

A bunch of trembling, dirty wild dogs walk tentatively up to us. We pet them, even though we know they're about to attack. We then slip inside the door of the nearest crackhouse and lock it behind us. The people inside are NOT happy to have us there. They glare at us. I watch through the window for the dogs to go away. Outside, a really fat man is choking on his own vomit. An equally fat police officer is hugging him from behind and laughing. The choking man bends forward into a convulsion, and dies. The cop laughs louder.

A Sassy Belt

I wake up to Kirk gently flagellating me with his member. Only it's longer than usual - long enough for him to wrap around his waist and tie as a belt.

Groovy

Tony was so impressed with the way that What You've Done was staged that he decided to do the same thing with Full Circle. Only, our cast was way too big to fit into a little Project Rowhouse. So he found a low-ceilinged ranch house out in the suburbs. He asked Kirk to come up with a new design, something to fit the architecture. Kirk covered the floors in thick shag carpetting, the walls in dark wood panelling and shiny silver, blue and brown wallpaper, and threw lots of low Noguchi coffee tables and groovy floor pillows everywhere. There was also a creek, with large river stones. All the women actors now wore the Pamela suit, unbottoned, with a cigarette dangling from one hand and a rocks glass in the other. The baby disappeared from the play. People started making out in corners and behind doors, so you could just see their bare feet peeking out.