... I just had the strangest, loneliness, most vivid but also the most abstract dream I've ever had. And it has to do with all the things listed in the title. Wow. Amazing. Seriously, this is one weird fucking dream.
Going to work for storytime was an amazing thing. There were 40 kids there, shoulder to shoulder, all wanting to hear me read. I was in jeans and a t-shirt, really playing the whole vacation angle. It was an awesome storytime. My ad-libbing was spot on and my jokes were getting huge pops and all my best bits were hitting them out of the park. When I got home, my wife took a three hour nap and I stayed up with the kids. When she woke up, my neck was suddenly on fire and I had to lay down. My wife said I was probably going to sleep but I told her I think I've had too much coffee to go to sleep.
Saying that was the last thing I remember. I woke up three hours later knowing every aspect, ever minute detail of this whacked out fucking dream.
And here it is ...
I was a young kid living in Arizona. My parents were human versions of the Simpsons. I thought they didn't love me so I ran away from home. I was poor, living on the streets, homeless, but my family didn't care. They just kept on being the Simpsons. I decided to walk to the old Barnes and Noble that I used to work at. It took hella long in the Arizona heat but when I got there there was nobody I knew, nobody I worked with. I didn't know anyone. So I kept walking the streets, homeless and alone and hungry.
Eventually the streets I was walking on turned into a giant jungle out of nowhere. Wandering lost in the jungle, I fell into a lake that had a big tide that carried me towards a massive waterfall. Struggling for my life, I managed to escape. I met with some people in suits who looked like they were from Men In Black and they told me that the jungle was being demolished to be turned into a giant art university for Diane Arbus. I met her and she seemed to like me and I was hired to be her assistant.
It was here that there was a very strange aside where my mom, as Marge Simpsons, was arguing with a video store employee over their bargain lazerdisc copies of the Simpsons Christmas Special. For some strange reason the Simpsons Christmas Special made my mom realize that she missed me and should find me. But by then I was Diane Arbus's personal assistant, lighting her long cigarettes and filling her small glasses of whiskey and listening to her stories of old famous stars and helping her with the college. It was me who had the idea to damn up the lake. I was rich and successful and only THEN did my parents want anything to do with me.
And then I woke up.
Now, there are a whole lot of things wrong with this dream, the MAIN problem being
What the fuck? Why would someone I have no knowledge of play such an important role in my dream? I have no fucking clue who Diane fucking Arbus is. I just assume she's a dykey fashion designer or a dykey poet or a dykey writer or a dykey photographer or some sort of fashionable snobby socialite dyke. But I honestly have no idea who the hell she is. In my dream she was just some sort of strange archetype of what I think old movie starlets become when they get old. And what the hell is my fascination with the Simpsons Christmas Special? Huh? And what do the Barnes and Noble and the homelessness and the jungle mean? What do they represent?
And what really freaked me out is when I woke up tired and lonely and sore and sad and altogether freaked out ...
... Emerald was watching The Simpsons.
True story. Couldn't fake something like that.