So, I don’t know if anyone else has the weirdest dreams in
the world—not only do I have super weird and detailed dreams, but they always
have a narrative structure, and I can remember all of them, and they are very
psychedelic, like I’m on drugs, which I am usually not.  The only catch is that I’m like, an even more
neurotic version of myself in the dreams, so I’m the ultimate buzzkill, going “THAT’S
ILLEGAL” or “PEOPLE WILL BE WORRIED ABOUT THIS,” or “YOU SHOULD STOP DOING
THAT.”  For instance, over the weekend I
had a particularly strange one that involved an alligator that had been cut in
half, and how I was encouraging a total stranger to pick up this alligator, and
then use it to get a free Subway sandwich. 
 See–surreal, then totally
practical, like I’m on Salvador Dali’s shoulder going “hey, you know—that clock
isn’t going to be able to tell you the right time if it’s dripping like that,
man.  Paint it again!”

This all makes perfect sense, right?  Half an alligator will always get you free
stuff at Subway.  I also like how I’m still
frugal in the dream, even though it’s a dream, and I could be the Emperor of
Dreamville and be a Dream Money millionaire. 
I swear, sometimes in the middle of the dream, my mind goes all meta and
I’m like “you know—you could be flying right now, and instead you’re in Subway
trying to use an alligator to get a free turkey sub. That is stupid”    And
right there, I laugh at myself.  Then
again, Stephan told me recently that he had a dream he switched his bank
account to Chase, and in the dream he was like “oh my God—this is so
convenient!  There are so many more ATMS
in the Chase network!” So maybe I’m not alone in this one.

Here is a sampling:  when I was in grad school, I had this recurring dream where
I was reading books, and in the dream I was like “oh my God, this is so great—I
am totally going to finish the reading assignment before seminar!”   I was always disappointed when I woke up from
that one. Years ago I had one that I was in the middle of the ocean, and Oprah
Winfrey was there, and she was making Polynesian boys jump off a pier but there
was no way to swim back, and I was like “Hey Oprah, just because you’re Oprah
doesn’t mean you can just send those Polynesian boys off the end of that pier
with no way to get back.  That’s not
right.” 

Because Oprah listens to me in my dreams, ok?  That is how practical I am.    Also,
I am totally sure that a psychologist is going to end up reading this post one
day and will leave a comment like “dreams like this mean you are crazy.”   Speaking of psychologists, let’s see what
Shannon has to say to this post.

Actually, I brought this up because I am actually very
interested to see what other people dream about.  What are dreams for, anyway?  Does everyone remember their dreams?   Please, use the comments to enlighten me, or
to tell me that half-alligator dreams mean I’m mental.  Either will do.