Dream-o-nomicon

I’ve had plen­ty of weird-ass dreams late­ly and I fig­ure pos­ter­i­ty will deter­mine my con­tri­bu­tion to the world through the exam­i­na­tion of this blog, per­haps an account of my dreams will pro­vide insights to that which is Adam.

I’ve been hav­ing dreams about the Demo­c­ra­t­ic can­di­date for Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca. John Ker­ry was dri­ving up a moun­tain and got a flat tire and I helped him change it. Mean­while, in the sky, Pres­i­dent George W. Bush made Pbbbtt! faces at us and then hid behind clouds. I also had anoth­er dream about Ker­ry where I was back­stage with him [back­stage in any of my dreams is always back­stage at the audi­to­ri­um at St. Gabriel’s] and we were shoot­ing the shit about a video game I’ve been play­ing called Bal­dur’s Gate.

Last night I dreamed about a cer­tain girl. This is the first time I can recall dream­ing about her. She was an FBI agent assigned to me [I was a thief a la Bal­dur’s Gate] and we were falling in luu­ur­rve as we rode bikes through Tremont.

I also had a dream where a bunch of kids in a field were play­ing stick­ball. This field was on a moun­tain­side, but was lev­el. While you were con­cen­trat­ing on the moun­tain, the field had bound­aries, while you were con­cen­trat­ing on the field, it seemed bound­less [but still on the moun­tain, always on the moun­tain]. A drag­on approx­i­mate­ly the size of a a short bus appeared and scared the crap out of the kids. Then I show up, a knight on horse­back with my sword and fight the drag­on, wound­ing it in the soft part behind the jaw. It fled into the woods and cursed me. So I roamed around errant style and even­tu­al­ly end­ed up back in the moun­tain mead­ow. Then, con­cen­trat­ing on the field, I went into the false-woods to find out where the drag­on end­ed up. As a trav­eled into the woods, I aged dras­ti­cal­ly until, when I found the drag­on, I was real­ly freak­ing old. The drag­on was just as old as I was and was­n’t par­tic­u­lar­ly dis­traught at my pres­ence. I sat down, leaned against his warm side and we both died.

The final dream I had, I was an ogre out on the heath. The wind is brisk and con­stant­ly mak­ing the sound wind does as it whis­tles over a heath. I enjoy liv­ing out here in the wilder­ness with the oth­er ogres and grif­fons and hob­gob­lins and wild ani­mals. Since I’m an ogre, I live alone and rarely see oth­er crit­ters unless I’m get­ting water from the small cold riv­er that flows down from a moun­tain. One day some crit­ter tells me that a knight is loose on the heath and is killing things left and right. I am exas­per­at­ed because we crit­ters out here on the heath just mind out own busi­ness but every once in a while some knight gets it into his head that we ter­ror­ize vil­lagers and need destroyed. So I set out to fight the knight, since that seems to be what he has in mind. The nature of the heath is such that the longer I trav­el in search of my goal, the less like­ly I am to find it. So goes the same with the knight. Even­tu­al­ly we run into each oth­er, com­plete­ly by acci­dent, and I smush him.

I need to play less Bal­dur’s Gate.