The Tease of Things I Don't Need

The Stuff of Dreams

A friend is feeling a little sick, and in a note today he mentioned "odd dreams when I nap that indicate I may have a slight fever." Part of this struck me as quite natural - not only have I had fever dreams, but TV sitcoms have been decades teaching us that we have pastiche nightmares when we're sick - but when I checked it with my experience I also realized that the only time I have any dreams that I recall it's when I've gone back to sleep for a second time for the day -- ie when I've taken a nap. I can only rarely recall waking up from the main night's sleep with any memory of a dream. If I wake up for even a short time, though, and then go back to sleep, I always wake up from a dream.

I briefly posited (most of the following) on a likely, media-driven fever dream du jour:

The Burger King commercial with the "Big Rock Candy Mountain" knock-off plays, but there are unsettling changes.

The Black, singing cowboy (Darius Rucker, of Hootie and the Blowfish semi-fame) is now Johnny Cochran. You notice he must be faking the playing of the guitar because there's no way he could be playing it while wearing those bloody gloves. There's something about his face that makes you know he wants to get this in one take because he has a crushing headache and needs to take something for it. Satan is in the background - nattily attired in a suit that must have cost $2,000 easy, and he's smiling as his gaze shifts between his Rolex and Johnny. He winks at you.

Terri Schiavo is being pushed on the swing by the Burger King. The King looks alternately like Dubya and Jeb, each wearing a fake beard. When you try to pin down which he REALLY looks like, staring intently at his shiny plastic skin and the cheery rictus, you realize he now looks like Laura Bush , though the beard has now vanished. The frozen smile is even creepier without the beard. You look away while backing away cautiously.

There are huge milkshakes around Terri, but she's not reaching for one. A straw coming out of one of the shakes is long and winding, and as your eyes trace the path you find that it leads up into Pope John Paul II's nose. After a few attempts at saying something to you a faceless functionary pulls away the microphone that was in front of the Pope. He seems to be enjoying the shake, surprisingly enough, but you know he's about to have a terminal ice cream headache.

Given that that's where I stopped, my hypothetical dreamer must have awoken.

While doing a brief browse for dreamy things (no, not using that search phrase; I don't want to see what might come from that) I came across The World Dream Bank you might find interesting. Might. I ain't promising nuthin'.

Some obligations/problems at home kept me from attending the delayed Heroclix Legacy marquee at a local venue tonight. I'm a little disappointed, but on the other hand there's no shortage of things I need to complete and I probably didn't need to spend the $25 or so anyway.