One of the effects of smoking dope all the time is that you sleep like a fucking baby. Having recently decided to lay off (for a multitude of unimportant reasons), I have been feeling all the ‘withdrawal effects’, like being a cranky asshole for a few days and apparently having the most intense, vivid dreams of your life. Maybe its a combination of the improved memory, more light sleeping, whatever, I have not remembered a dream in years and NEVER to this level of detail. Now, if you get bored easily you better bail now because like most dreams this is just a collection of bizarre minutiae, but hey maybe you want to find out what kind of ridiculous shit goes on in this ole noggin. So here we go, my first dream in years:
It starts off with me wanting a motorcycle. Somehow I am able to will one into existence, but it is a little starter bike. For some reason I am barefoot during all of this, and definitely not wearing any other protective gear. I am riding around Austin, but is sort of bizarro Austin, of course. I decide that this is way too much fun and that I am going to buy a real bike, right now, cost be damned. So somehow I get up to the dealer and walk out with a matte brown Honda 599, which is a fucking rad bike but pretty sure they don’t make them in matte brown – that was just an invention of my stylish imagination.
So I’m riding my new brown bike around bizarro Austin and eventually come to a restaurant. Keep in mind I am still going barefoot and am having a harder time riding this bike because it is a lot more powerful and I really do not know how to ride. I sort of lay it down at the restaurant and get spicy brown mustard on the frame (yea I know). At the table I put the bike down at is two girls that I have known since high school. One is married now and a cheatin’ hussy so I won’t use any names but regardless I have never had a very high opinion of her – but she is married in the dream. Anyways she does not recognize me because the last time she saw I had a shaved head and now am rocking a beautiful mane and sweet beard, but decides to come on to me something fierce (remember she is a cheatin’ hussy). She proceeds to do this by licking up the spicy brown mustard off my bike frame. I shut her down by saying “get off my bike, I don’t want to get AIDS!”
In the dream I think this is fucking hilarious (and in real life too, haha). Anyways at this point the friend recognizes me and points it out to the adulterous trollop who says something along the lines of, and this is definitely a testament to my brazen ego, “oh my god I didn’t recognize you! you look so handsome…and so….Greek! (WTF)” They also compliment cow print Jeans I am apparently wearing as an indication of my a priori stylishness/handsomeness. Hey f you its my dream – I hop on my bike, now mustard free, and ride off (still no shoes).
Apparently I am heading to a comedy club to meet some friends. I get there and park by bike right in front of the door which has a little porthole window in it. I get a beer at the club and sit down, and almost immediately I notice somebody on my bike. I get up to check it out and sure enough some guy is trying to steal it. I confront him with a “hey bro what are you doing?” and he says “aw man in another 6 seconds I would have had this bike”. So I bargain with him saying that I won’t call the cops if he tells me the best way to keep people from stealing my bike, and he gives me some tips. Satisfied I go back inside, and then head back out a few minutes later and sure enough the bike is gone.
Now I decide to leave to go call the cops I suppose and walk over to a huge, oppressive looking apartment complex, where is there is this enormous opulent party going on. Tons of gold shades around, but weird splashes of color like a Kubrick movie. I smell (remember this is a dream, so weird) a big giant sack of weed on the table but do not partake (yay discipline?) and notice my friends Jennifer and Nicole. They are having a discussion about what music stations to pick for the party and Jennifer says “you pick, if it were up to me I would pick three scream-o stations, I just think scream-o is the greatest music ever invented!” This disturbs me so much that I decide to go back to the comedy club, and yea that doesn’t make much sense but shit is about to get really weird. (please note that Jen doesn’t really like scream-o, as far as I know)
I get back to the club and ask to speak to a manager, but notice that the earlier bike thief is working at the club. For some reason a detective is already there and the guy is being arrested by some other uniformed cops. I try and talk to the detective about my bike but he starts questioning me, really intensely. He is in my face and first asks me to smell a little 1″x1″ paper which I think has a picture of the motorcycle thief on it but smells overwhelmingly like ca$h money. He is still real in my face, not threatening but definitely in my personal space and I notice I am walking backward a lot. He then has me put in some weird red/blue mouthpiece which tastes like the flouride trays from the dentist (again more weird sensory stuff, and the red/blue is more Kubrick?). I try and tell him that I noticed some cameras out front of the club so maybe we can use those to find my bike. He says something along the lines of “you got bigger problems”, the lights start to flicker and fade and the door to the club turns into some weird morphing sarlacc pitt looking thing.
I am then somehow teleported into a weird 70s looking kitchen – lots of olive green and all in all very disgusting, flies buzzing around. Its me, the detective, and the girls from the restaurant earlier. The cop is playing it cool like he has seen the sort of thing before, and the girls are manning a greasy old wok making some horrible looking, soggy fried rice. She then takes said fried rice and globs it into a toaster, upon which the detective says something like “this must be chinese food hell.” I agree, realizing that I must be in hell for something with this detective who is straight out of Silent Hill, and for some reason get the feeling that the guy who took my bike earlier was in out too, an agent of whatever evil forces are at work here.
Then I woke up.
LESSONS LEARNED:
1.) get a matte brown honda 599 asap, but take the MSF and wear protective gear! also lock that shit up
2.) I am probably going to hell for various reasons outlined above.
I wrote all this down as soon as I woke up and then went back to bed and immediately had another bizarre dream, this time it was about a dozen guys from my job all interviewing with some Richard Branson style character for a new gig at a sushi restaurant. Except my main homie Ian Bailon is there. Then Branson guy has a stripper throw a bunch of money and weird cards on the table which we all scramble for, but me and Ian just take the money and then go check out this weird band that is playing, and then have a video conference with Ian’s mom.
So yea if you want some weird dreams, smoke weed all the time for a few years and then quit, holy cow!