Rock the Casbah by Myself

I woke up this morning with an awkward medley of Rock the Casbah and All By Myself stuck in my head. A hilarious creation of my nocturnal subconscious and lingering evidence that something weird went down in dreamland last night.

I've always had incredibly vivid and strange dreams, but these days they escape my memory minutes after I've opened my eyes. This makes me sad because I love the amused look on Jean's face when I tell him the latest.

As I was walking to the office this morning, I saw a man in a suit on his knees in the mall, picking up a dozen Timbits in different flavours scattered all over the ground, the empty Tim Hortons box he'd dropped lying on it's side not too far away. It's really insignificant on the scale of bad things that can happen to someone, but it damn near made me cry. I'm such a sucker for these kinds of "sad" situations, I don't know why the hell I'm such a jellyfish for this type of thing, but I always have been and forever will be.

Dream Post #3

I dreamt the other night that my dog was being skinned and chopped up and prepared for a big pot of curry.

I don't know, man. I wasn't too happy when I woke up.

Dream Post #2

I know... no one wants to read about dreams.

I'm going to post about mine anyway for the sake of posterity. I'm pretty sure they're absolutely devoid of symbolism and meaning.

And this is my blog, so neener.

Just a short list in point form this time, because these are old and not fresh in my memory.

• The one where my friend's brother hooked me up with a job interview, and I spent the entire dream hemming and hawing about whether or not I would accept the job because the daily interplanetary commute to Jupiter sounded really tiring.
• The one where I was accused of breaking some kind of American cross-border grocery shopping law about bringing groceries back into Canada without a permit. The security guard took us to see the CEO of the grocery store at the headquarters (which were at this terrifying compound 15 miles away in the middle of a wooded area) where we were executed upon arrival. I thought people weren't supposed to die in their own dreams?
• The one where, over a nice steak dinner, my parents told me that they thought that Nelly was a freeloader and that I should no longer allow her to live under my roof without making some kind of financial contribution. To which I responded incredulously, "Nelly can't get a job. She's a dog!!!"

Dream Post #1

The night before last, I fell asleep on the couch while watching documentaries with Jean.

I dreamt I had a new coffee machine. Oh, and a glass eye. In order to make a coffee, I had to remove my glass eye and screw a container into my eye socket and then the brewing would happen in my skull.

I woke up with a fuzzy right eye and a mild sensation of panic. I realized that not only had I fallen asleep with my contacts in, giving me mucous-eye, but I had been sleeping in a way that squished my eyeball against Jean's chest.

After I regained clear vision in the pancake eye, I got up and went to bed.