Dreamsong

Friends,

I don't usually have vivid dreams. In fact, it happens very rarely, maybe once a month if I'm lucky. But last night gave me a weird one.

I was with a group of people, not sure now many, but we were in a bus. This bus was then being robbed by an old man. A pretty old guy actually, so we all had to get out of the bus. We file out, no problem, and then the old man singles me out by pointing his gun at me.

The gun is a 9MM, but it is a really dark maroon color and sounded cheap when he waved it around, like maybe it could be a toy. So when the old man was distracted for a second, I went for the gun, and there was a tussle. And while we were fighting for the gun, I was trying to aim it away from me, but turns out I aimed the damn thing right at me, and the old man shot me in the chest.

I didn't feel anything, so I kept fighting, and the gun kept firing, but instead of bullets, a trail of white smoke came out. Eventually got the gun away from the old man, and he was laying on the ground, cowering on the ground as I held the gun on him.

Then, I looked down at my chest, and noticed blood starting to pool into my shirt a little. I lifted my shirt and saw what looked more like an abrasion than a gunshot hole, but it was right in the center of my chest. Then I said aloud, "Well, I'm fucked." I knew that I had been shot and the bullet was lodged in me, so naturally, I was going to die.

Then there's a bit of dream travel. Suddenly, I'm in a classroom, with kids and round tables, so it must have been a kindergarten class. It wasn't a specific room from my childhood, but a rectangular classroom with round tables and kids working with nondescript art projects. I guess I was a student, but I was grown-up, me not a kid version of me, plus none of the drama of the dream changed. Anyway, I walked up to the teacher, who was behind a desk and this towering cart with a couple computers on it, and tried to explain that I needed get help because I was shot in the chest by an old man with a maroon gun. The teacher was distracted and didn't want to listen, but I eventually got her to let me go, but someone went with me.

The someone was Catherine, only she was about seven feet tall and dressed in this flowy white robe thing....more of a poncho than anything else. As we were walking, we kept leaning on each other as we walked, not arm in arm, or nuzzling or anything, but really leaning on each other as we walked, like if one person moved, the other would fall down. As we walked through this vague, concrete kind of landscape, I was growing more concerned about the bullet wound in my chest. On our way to find help, we decided that I needed to talk to the FBI to get help for my gunshot wound from the maroon 9MM.

Giant Catherine and I are on a street somewhere lined with parking meters, and we find a police officer writing a ticket. I thought, "Hey, a policeman would know where to find the FBI."

So I ask him about finding the FBI. He asks why and I explain about being shot in the chest. And he says, "Was it a maroon gun?" And I say yes. And he says "Yeah, they only got the one shot. They do that sometimes."

And then I woke up.

What the hell was all that about?

Anyway, I'm embedding something extra cool. It's from Radio Lab, and it explains how dreams work. Maybe this will provide a window to understanding this dream.



And, I'm curious about you all. Are you a vivid dreamer? Have any interesting ones you care to share?

viva el mustache