What Dreams Are Made Of

Yesterday, I fell asleep while watching bad TV.  This, unfortunately, is not an uncommon occurrence.  Being exhausted both physically & mentally, I fell into full-on REM mode and entered into my own indie art film based on the screen play written by memories of a funeral, shrimp fried rice and Spike TV. 

Dreams have always fascinated me, not necessarily for the possible meaning they may imply (although this can be insightful at times), but rather for their randomness, surreality, vivid and artistic nature.  The fact that we all, or most, have a built in link to our own strange creative head movies is just so, I don't know, marvelous! 

I'm sure I could Google the scientific specifics of how the process works, but that might suck the magic out of the outcome for me.  All I know is that the composite "screen writers" mentioned above filter into my brain in such a way as to produce a movie with the following plotline:

I have been asked to give a Euology at my Uncle David Wilkerson's funeral, which was being held in a hermetically sealed white room covered in plastic.  Before I am about to read my carefully crafted tribute, I receive a card with what seems to be exploding confetti inside and I accidently swallow one of the paper pieces.  It turns out this confetti was made up of some powerful acid, LSD perhaps, and I proceed to take off my clothing and sing a rendition of White Zombie's "More Human than Human".  

Thankfully I woke up before I had to endure the aftermath and reactions of such an experience.  I'm sure my therapist friends would be able to unpack the psychological significance of such a reverie; but the bottom line can simply be explained by the fact that I had just spent the past few weeks caught up in my Uncle's funeral, by my digestive juices trying to attack the fat deposits of shrimp fried rice and the drug related plot on a crime show playing on Spike TV.  

I just ate a burrito, Jeopardy's on and I'm feeling sleepy---can someone snap the clapboard and yell ACTION!