Friday, March 22, 2013

Dreams are Weird Man

Lately I've been having some incredibly strange dreams and not sleeping well. I've since rearranged our room to hopefully help me sleep and not to have such a creepy subconscious.

Like last week, I had a dream that I wrote the Wallflowers' 1997 hit "One Headlight."

I was pissed because I knew as a band, if this song was released, I would never have another hit again. I kept trying to convince the record label to scrap it and even tried to destroy the masters.

Or what about last night. I had a dream I was still living in North County on Comet Dr. and we had a small skating rink in our back yard. The Anaheim Ducks rented our backyard for their new practice facility and paid me to bring them drinks and make them sandwiches.

One reoccurring dream is of Sallie in an alternate time line where we didn't meet. Sallie and I talk about this sometimes, like, how would you be living if we never met?

I would probably be living in my mom's basement because I couldn't afford student loans on my own and have a place of my own. Or, maybe I would've forced myself into what I was originally planning, grad school in Ireland. You know, really rack up that debt something fierce.

Sallie would most likely be living in a small apartment, cluttered with her messes everywhere, takeout boxes stacked to the ceiling, working for a paper in Colorado making $12.50 an hour.

But I have these dreams where Sallie is sort of in a 1990s sitcom (a la Friends) and going on dates with these other dudes. And in my dream, I'm stuck as a spectator and I'm constantly screaming, "He's not the right type for you! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" And then I wake up feeling jealous and tired.

Dreams are weird man.