WTF?

I had crazy dreams last night, but I don't remember anything about them.  Even the bits and scraps that were still hanging around my brain when I woke up have all slipped into oblivion.   However, the last voice I heard before I woke up said, "This is coming right off of Jesus' headband."  I mean... WHAT?

And while googling around for an image to go with this entry, I stumbled upon this gem of a website:

http://hipsterorjesus.com/

Not really a dream, but...

...well, maybe it was a dream.  I really don't think so, though.

This morning I woke up to see a young boy standing right in front of me, right next to my bed--inches away from my face.  He was maybe somewhere between 10 and 13 years old (I'm terrible at guessing kids' ages, especially pre-teen boys, who can vary so wildly from one to another).  He had straight brown hair, was wearing aviator glasses, wore an Izod or Polo shirt with red, white, black, and blue horizontal stripes of varying width, and I couldn't see his pants because the bed went above his waist.  His arms were at his sides, and he was looking toward my window, but downward, towards the floor.  He had a slight frown on his face.

I was completely frozen--internally freaking out so much that I didn't know what to do externally.  I looked at the Ekkies, wondering why they weren't pitching a fit about a stranger being in the room, but they were both sleeping soundly, heads tucked under wings, fluffed up, standing on one foot.  I looked back at the boy and was wondering how the hell he got into my house, who he was, why he was there, but still couldn't think of anything to say or do.

The boy slowly turned his head until he was looking directly at me.  I couldn't see the expression in his eyes because he was wearing those aviators, but the rest of his face wore a frown of disapproval.  I was searching his face for some kind of hint as to what he was thinking or why he was there, but then he slowly dissolved into nothing.  Just completely disappeared.  The birds didn't stir at all.  I picked my head up and looked around; everything else in the room looked exactly the same.  I really don't think I was dreaming because I felt awake the whole time and there was  perfect continuity between what the room and birds looked like when the boy was there and after he disappeared.  But then... what was he? A hallucination?  A vision?  A ghost?  Can you dream while fully awake and with open eyes?  Inquiring minds want to know!

Because hot pink capes are, well, hot.

I sent this to a friend on September 13th, 2010, but forgot to include it here until just now:

I had a dream last night that you were dancing/wading rhythmically through a waist-deep creek wearing a hot pink nylon cape and doing jazz hands, but the music playing was like neo-industrial prog or something equally dissonant. But then I could hear this like tribal beat underneath the totally-un-you music and I was like, "Oh, he's dancing to the pebbles in the creek! That makes so much more sense." But... does it, Will Wiesenfeld? You tell me.

Subconscious, meet Freud. Freud, subconscious.

I was in the corridor of a stadium or conference center---you know those places with tall, wide halls that wrap around the main auditorium but are sometimes used as rooms themselves for trade shows, job fairs, conferences, etc.  This particular corridor was bustling with people walking in all directions, doing different things.  Some people were moving large stage props; some people were sitting at booths; some people were pushing around carts of food; some people were just walking.

A woman approached me and told me that she had made a deal with a demon and needed my help.  For some reason, I agreed to help her--even though, you know, she was a total stranger and clearly stupid for making a deal with a demon.  So she took me to the demon so we could discuss the terms of their agreement.  He was an extraordinarily beautiful man: blonde hair (I'm not particularly partial to blondies, but when they're beautiful, they're beautiful), big blue eyes, chiseled jaw... you know.  I asked the demon, "What is this deal you made with this woman?  What does she have to do for you?"  He replied, "Every day, at 11 am and 11 pm sharp, she has to bring me a hot, delicious meal of sea bass, asparagus, and potatoes au gratin, with a nice chianti.  And you should know that since you are helping her with this, you are bound to it yourself."  I felt incredulous: "Seriously?!  That's it?!  That's the deal she made?!  Uh, ok..."

When the woman and I walked away from the demon, I was like, "First of all, why did you make that deal, and secondly, why do you need my help?  There are caterers walking all over this building who are carrying around whole carts of food.  You don't even have to cook!"  So she went her merry way and I did my own thing, and every time it got to be almost 11 o'clock I'd just go to a passing food cart and pick up a plate of sea bass, asparagus, and potatoes au gratin, as well as a glass of chianti, and would take it to the demon.

Eventually I got tired of having to do this twice a day, so one time when I brought the demon his dinner I asked him, "What are the consequences you laid out for this woman if she doesn't comply?  What will happen if we don't bring you your food?"  He looked at me threateningly and said, "I will be very hungry, and very angry."  Again, I felt incredulous: "Seriously?!  Those are the consequences?!  Well fuck this, then!  You go ahead and be hungry and angry, dude.  That is not even remotely scary to me."  The demon replied, "Oh, I will terrify you.  You will be terrified.  Not now, perhaps, but it will happen soon."  Undaunted, I walked away from him and started looking for a way to leave the conference center or stadium or wherever I was.

Suddenly I was at home.  My home was a huge, sparsely furnished house with concrete floors stained a dark brown and the walls and doors were all windows, save for the narrow dark wood beams between the windows and framing the doors.  All of the windows around the house, though, were covered in dark brown vinyl blinds that were mostly but not completely closed, so I had the unnerving feeling that people could see into the house but I could not see out.  It was also nighttime, which enhanced that feeling.  The dining room of the house, which created an open L-shape with the living room, had a massive dark brown table that was filled with paper bags that had meat in it for all the members of our wild game co-op, and people were coming in and out of the house to pick up their co-op orders in a steady stream.  "Good," I thought, "There's always at least one person here, so I'm not left alone."  All of the co-op members were wearing these neon orange reflective vests, like traffic cops or crossing guards.

The last person to come get his co-op bag was my friend Nick, and he and I were chatting for a while.  I could tell he wanted to stay and hang out, and I didn't want him to leave, either, because I was afraid of being left alone in the house, but I didn't want him to think that I was trying to seduce him, so I started slowly walking him to the door and wrapping up the conversation.  When he said goodbye and walked out the door, my heart sank and I being to feel this inexplicable fear creeping in.  I could see his orange vest through the small slits in the blinds walking along the south wall of the house, and as it disappeared from view I felt deflated and sad and wished I could call him back.  But then I saw the orange vest coming back up the south wall, and I was so excited and happy that I ran to the front door right as the orange vest reached it as well.  It wasn't Nick, though.  A different demon from the one I had been taking food to, this one ugly and disfigured and with red eyes, broke through the glass of my front door and lunged at me through the blinds.

I woke myself up by bolting upright in bed with a loud gasp.  My heart was racing, my legs felt like butter, and I was shaking all over.  My immediate thought was, "Well played, demon.  That actually did terrify me."  And then I realized, "DUH, Emily!  The demon isn't real!  It was a dream!"

Recurring Dream #3: dream within a super mundane dream (Backlog, pt. 8)

The other recurring dream I've had since childhood is a dream within a dream.  Actually, I've had several dreams within dreams, but the only one that happens recurrently is that I'll have some dream (always something different), and then I will "wake up" and start my day.  I feed my birds, I'll check email, I'll take a shower and brush my teeth, whatever mundane tasks usually happen in the morning.  Then I'll go to the bathroom and start peeing, but the peeing never ends and the more I pee, the more I have to pee.  That's when I realize: "Damnit!  I'm not awake!  I'm still dreaming!  And I really really have to pee!"  Then I wake up and go to the bathroom.

Recurring Dream #2: Flying to a pirate ship (Backlog, pt. 7)

Another recurring dream I have had since childhood is that I can fly - I know, that's a pretty common recurring dream for lots of people - but I am specifically flying for a purpose.  There is a massive pirate ship docked next to a massive, gorgeous, lush park with thick green grass and ancient oak trees.  The park gently slopes upward from the shore to a broad hill, and on the other side of the hill is a cloud city  that is for some reason on the ground instead of in the sky, where one would expect a cloud city to be.  It's a bright, white city, so bright that I can't really make out the details, but my job is not to actually go into the city, so I never get to explore it and find out what it's like on the inside.

My purpose in this dream is to fly onto the pirate ship, invisible, and free the citizens of the cloud city that the pirates have captured.  For some reason, though, I can't just open all the doors and let them all out at once.  I have to go into each cell and carry one citizen out at a time, and take them back to the cloud city.  The part of the pirate boat where they keep their prisoners looks exactly like a modern day prison: gray concrete floors, steel cage bars, etc.  No problem, though!  When I am flying and invisible, I can move through solid objects.  So I fly through the cage bars, pick up the prisoner inside, and when I do, they become invisible, too.  So I fly back through the cage doors, out of the boat, across the park, and deposit them at the border of the cloud city, then go back to get the next prisoner.

The whole dream is just me going back and forth, rescuing the prisoners.  I always rescue exactly half of the prisoners - all the ones along the left wall - and then the pirates are waiting for me at the top of the hill when I'm coming back from delivering the last freed prisoner.  I realize that the pirates can see me because I'm losing my invisibility, and THEN I realize that I'm dreaming, and the reason I'm losing my invisibility is because I'm starting to wake up.  "No!"  I think, "I still have to save the rest of the prisoners!"  But it's no use,  The pirates are chasing me down the hill, I'm becoming increasingly visible and I'm getting heavier and heavier.  It's harder for me to fly so I'm slowing down, getting closer to the ground, and the pirates are closing in on me.  Finally I'm just inches from the ground and I can hear the pirates' boots crushing the grass right behind me.  By that point, I'm aware of sounds from my room and the real world, and right as my chin hits the ground in my dream, I wake up.

Recurring Dream #1: Tornadoes (Backlog, pt. 6)

Since I was a little girl, I've had several recurring dreams.  Sure, we all have dreams about our teeth falling out and being somewhere in public and showing up naked, but aside from the common recurring dreams that everyone has, I have some unusual ones.

The first is about tornadoes.  In the dream, the setting and specific circumstances might be different, but the common thread is that there are always multiple tornadoes - often 7, but not always - and I am rarely scared.  Most of the time I'll feel a mild anxiety at worst, and then feel matter-of-fact about it.  The other common thread is that I always end up either getting caught in one of the tornadoes, but it turns out to be really weak and even if it destroys the building I'm in, I'm able to hang onto something and stay put, OR, the tornado gets smaller as it gets closer to me, so that by the time it's in front of me, it's only about 3 feet tall.

The version that I dream most commonly is that my family and I are in our old house in Leander, which was on 4 acres of land that backed up to hundreds of acres of virgin land, and the entire back wall of the house was windows.  In real life, we loved watching storms through those windows, so in the dream, as a family we're standing in the living room watching the storm outside.  As it progresses, several tornadoes start touching down all around the house (like I said, it's usually 7 tornadoes, especially in this dream).  Suddenly we realize that one of the windows is open, but when I go to close it, a little baby tornado, about 3 feet tall, hops in through the window and starts spinning around the living room.  Dad hands me a broom and says, "Break it up with the broom, Emily."  So I start hitting the tornado with the broom, waving the broom around inside it to disrupt the airflow, and it dissipates into nothing.

Inception is totally messing with my dreams. (Backlog, pt 5)

(this happened about a week ago)

I had fallen asleep watching Amelie, so in my sleep I could still hear the soundtrack.  In my dream, the Amelie score was kind of like the air in a balloon, keeping the dream world inflated.  The "world" was just southeast and east Austin, except that, instead of a sky overhead, we were obviously enclosed in a milky white, semi-translucent film that was not uniform in shape and consistency, but bulbous and rounded the way a child draws a cloud, with occasional wrinkles and creases like those you sometimes get in your chewing gum when you blow a bubble.  Anyway, the physics of this world, which were entirely dependent on the Amelie score, were not a prominent feature of the dream.  It was just sort of understood, in the same way that we all know that our lives depend on the oxygen and nitrogen in the air, but we don't constantly think about it.

The dream was not a single plot, but several disjointed vignettes.  I don't remember all of them, but these are the ones I do remember:

* My brother Jay and I were at an ugly brown Protestant church in that triangle between Cesar Chavez, Airport, and Springdale, where they were having some kind of young people meeting.  Some guy with a thick west Texas accent and dressed in cowboy attire was telling Jay and I that our parents didn't raise us right because we didn't have the same religious beliefs as the rest of the people at the meeting (they were all members of the church; we were just visiting).  Jay and I, instead of just recognizing that the guy was an idiot and not worth our time, or instead of attempting to argue the point that just because we have different religious beliefs doesn't mean we are bad people, were defending Mom and Dad's parenting skills to the ground.  And then we started doing gymnastics, as if that would somehow prove our point.

* I was at Springdale Farm, but no one else was there, and I really needed to get some spinach and cilantro.  I was walking through the gardens, trying to find and harvest my own, but all the plants were jumbled together and unlabeled.  A thunderstorm rolled in, which made it even harder to find my desired produce because the atmosphere got a lot darker and the rain was falling pretty heavily.

* I went to a client's house that is near the park next to the river off of Chicon.  She told me that she had discovered/invented underwater breathing without needing any equipment, and invited me into her house to show me.  The house was completely filled with water.  When she opened the front door, though, the water stayed in place instead of spilling out.  "See," she said, "The secret is making the water more gelatinous.  That's how you can breathe while submerged."  So we swam around her house, and her bird was "flying" with us underwater.  It was beautiful and a lot of fun, and I thought to myself, "If we had made the pool water more gelatinous, Zoe would have lived instead of drowned."

* I was at a different church farther north on Airport Blvd., near Oak Springs, but also an ugly brown Protestant one, and I had a plate full of food.  Some people were trying to find me, though, so I had to hide the plate of food from them.  I was in a room where they had vacation bible school, so I was pulling open all these drawers that were full of arts&crafts supplies, but couldn't find a drawer where I felt the plate of food would be hard to find and also not contaminated or spoiled by the contents of the drawer.  I finally settled on putting it in the drawer with the glitter, "because," I reasoned, "the worst that will happen is that the food will just look prettier and sparklier."

At the end of the dream, I was walking and chatting with a girl (she was not someone I know in real life) down Cesar Chavez, towards I-35.  While we were walking, I heard Nino knock on Amelie's door and say, "Amelie?" (you know what I'm talking about; at the very end of the movie when he shows up at her apartment while she's daydreaming about him).  I turned to the girl and said, "Oh, shit, we gotta get out of here.  The movie's almost over, and when the score ends, this world is going to collapse.  I have to wake up ASAP.  You better go."  The girl thanked me for the heads up and took off down Waller St.  I started running towards I-35, but instead of the highway, it was a blue door.  I could hear the final song in the score, the one that plays during the credit sequence, and I noticed that the sky was deflating, getting closer and closer to the ground.  Just as I reached the door, the sky was touching the ground behind me, sagging over all the buildings.  I opened the door, ran through it, woke up, and the credit sequence ended and the movie went back to the main menu.

It's raining oil! Hallelujah! (Backlog, pt. 4)

(from some time in May, 2010)

My family and I were all in this huge all-wood, homestead-style ranch house out in the desert of West Texas, where there was absolutely no vegetation whatsoever, just miles of dusty beige rock as far as the eye could see.  We were inside the house for the first half of the dream, but then Dad and I went out to sit on rocking chairs on the porch, and we were just talking and staring at the old timey wooden oil derrick that was just a few yards in front of us.

Suddenly, oil burst out of the top of the derrick and started raining down onto the yard.  Dad and I just looked at each other calmly and I said, "Well, this isn't much different than the oil rain we'll be getting from the Gulf pretty soon."  He just nodded his head in agreement, and we watched the oil rain for a while longer.

After a while, Jay came out onto the porch and he and I stepped into the yard and stood in the oil rain, looking out at some of the other derricks farther off.  Suddenly, way out on the horizon, there was a huge explosion of dirt and rock shooting into the air.  It made a loud booming noise, so we thought that someone had set off some explosives.  But then another one happened closer, and then another one even closer, and we realized that the earth was splitting in half, one half rising up into a sheer cliff wall and the other half sinking down.  Every time a piece of the ground would split, it would cause the big booming dirt explosions that we were seeing.  We realized that the split in the earth was coming directly towards the house, so, logically, Dad told us to all go inside the house.

Once inside the house, Dad told us all to huddle towards the side of the house with all the windows, nearest to the porch where we had been sitting.  But I wanted to go to the other half of the house, because it was closer to the well, and there was some kind of escape tunnel on that side of the house.  No windows, though.  So there I was, on one side of the house by myself, looking at my entire family on the other side of the house.  The ground was already starting to part and my side of the house was starting to sink, so I felt an urgency to make a decision: do I stay where I know there's water and an escape route, or do I join my family?  A dirt explosion happened right outside the kitchen window, and I woke up.

Avani and her mom are magical. (Backlog, pt 3)

I sent this to Avani on 01/26/10.

I had the most strange but delightful dream about you last night, so of course I just have to tell you about it.  You, your mom, and I were in a round room that was all white: white walls, white ceiling, white counters, white tile floor.  I knew it was a kitchen even though I didn't see any kitchen appliances in it except the counters and a sink.  I was on the left side of the kitchen, which was filled with water up to my waist, but not like a flood or something bad; the water was clear and clean and there were koi swimming around in it.  Like an intentional indoor koi pond, I guess, and for some reason I was standing in it.  You and your mom were on the right side of the kitchen, which was dry.  The room had a ton of windows--in fact the walls were mostly windows, with just narrow spaces of wall between the windows, and they were all French windows, again with white trim.  We must have been on a hilltop, because all you could see outside the windows were white rooftops and blue sky.  You looked back at me and smiled, then you looked towards the windows and waved your arm, beckoning a massive tidal wave (think Mickey Mouse in Fantasia) that washed over the rooftops and over our kitchen.  The wave shattered the panes of glass in one of our windows, with the broken glass falling all over the counter top.  I wasn't afraid, though, and it wasn't destructive.  It was more cleansing, and I was excited that you were calling the water to us.  You beckoned another tidal wave, and again one came up from the horizon, over the rooftops and onto our house.  This time, it shattered all the panes in all the windows, with all the shattered glass falling all over the countertops.  Your mom immediately set to work.  I thought she was going to sweep the broken glass off the counter tops, but instead she start pulling flowers out of the sink.  The sink looked empty to me, but she would pull one flower out at a time from like the garbage disposal, or from thin air, I don't know.  It was just the flowers, no stems, and they were one of two colors: a deep magenta or a brilliant hyacinth blue color.  She would pick up a flower from the sink in her left hand and with her right hand she would pick up pieces of broken glass and grind them with her fingers into granulated sugar.  Then she'd dip the flower into the granulated sugar and set it on the countertop.  Then she'd go back to the sink, pull out another flower, and repeat the process.  I watched her do this for what seemed like a long time, then a bird flew in through the window and landed in the water in front of me.  It looked like a blue crane, the ones that come out to Bull Creek every spring, but smaller, the size of a duck.  You smiled and said, "See?  Now the birds can come inside and find a place to rest."  We smiled at each other and then I was watching the bird sit in the water and preen itself, when a koi swam up to the surface in front of me, between me and the bird.  It had a bandage on its back, in front of its dorsal fin, and you pointed at it and said, "The bandage is healing its wounds.  Look," then you removed the bandage and underneath it looked like some scales were removed and the area was a little red and inflamed.  I asked you, "Isn't this the koi that was attacked the other day?"  You replied, "Yes!  And look at how much it's healed already!"  The koi was very still, kind of swimming in place, while you put a fresh bandage on its back, then it dived down deeper in the water and away from us.  I looked up and your mother had turned all the shattered glass into granulated sugar, and the counters were now clean and filled with sugar-coated magenta and hyacinth flowers.  The sun coming through the windows made the flowers glow and sparkle, and the room was filled with the light of it--not just glowing with the light, but also the sunlight was being refracted in a lot of the sugar crystals, so there were little rainbows all over the walls and ceiling and floors. I looked out the window and could see more birds flying towards us, and then I woke up.  I didn't want to wake up.  That dream was awesome.  I wish you could see it yourself instead of relying on my lame attempt at description.  I wanted to live there forever.

Science is wrong: the sun is just a gigantic orange. (Backlog, pt 2)

(from 9/2/08)

I was inside my house (although it wasn’t any house that I’ve ever lived in in real life) doing something unremarkable, perhaps reading a book, when my father came in.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“You need to come outside with us. The world is ending soon and you should spend the final moments of your life with your family,” he replied, somewhat more placidly than the situation called for.

I followed him outside to the lawn, where the rest of my family was sitting. We were on the peak of a low, broad hill that looked out onto a wide sky. Hanging low in it was a too-big sun that had the charred appearance of a dying ember. Its outer layers had peeled away like the skin of an orange and coiled like a fiery helix from the north end of the sky to the south, lying parallel to and just above the horizon. The atmosphere was a terrible red, and I felt a stab of fear in the pit of my stomach as I surveyed the phenomenon and wondered how long it would take for the world to succumb to its inevitable fate. But then I relaxed and smiled as I thought, “Thank god! This means I won’t have to get Alzheimer’s like my grandparents!”

What. This is how you're *supposed* to behave at funerals. (Backlog, pt 1)

So... to populate this blog from the start rather than have it be dead and boring for an undetermined amount of time, we're going to post some old dreams here that we had documented elsewhere earlier in our lives.  I'll start with this oldie-but-goodie.

(from June 19, 2006)

I was at the funeral of a guy whom I was really in love with (I think we might've been a couple, 'cos I was seriously in love with him), although it wasn't anyone from my real life.  Pretty much everyone that I've seen, talked to or thought about in the past few days was at the funeral, including Mellowdrone and some of the people who were at the Austin and Dallas Mellowdrone shows.  My coworkers were there, my sister and brothers, Amy, Val, Sabrina, Deidre, Bethany, Sara, Caitlin, Beth, Rafi, Leigh...so I'm serious when I say pretty much everyone I've interacted with in the past few days. 

Anyway, we're in this funeral home that looks pretty much exactly like the one in Six Feet Under, and this guy whom I was in love with who died had apparently committed suicide, and had chosen Bright Eyes' "No Lies, Just Love" to play at his funeral.  I was standing in the aisle in the back, watching everyone grieve and listening to this song, and I'm just sobbing, because I'm so sad and shocked and overwhelmed.  Then suddenly, I became furious at the absurd emoness of the situation.  I mean, what kind of asshole kills himself and then requests a Bright Eyes song to be played at his funeral, right?  So this wave of blind hatred hits me, and I want to seriously hurt him.  Of course I can't hurt him because he's dead, adding helpless frustration to the utter rage.  Hot tears were coming out my eyes and burning my cheeks, and I was like, "If I don't do something right now, I'm going to claw my own face off."  So suddenly I remember that I sell sex toys!  Of course, hello!  So I walk into the grieving room next to the funeral parlour, and of course my box of sex stuff is in there (I mean, why wouldn't it be?).  I pull out this ginormous dildo, rush into the funeral parlour and up to the casket, and start trying to cram the dildo into this guy's dead mouth, screaming, "COCKSUCKER!  YOU'RE A FUCKING COCKSUCKER!  COCKSUCKER, I HATE YOU!  SUCK A COCK YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKER!"  It wasn't as easy as I had hoped, though, because his face was all cold and clammy and rigid, so I was kind of clawing at his chin with my hand, and his gross dead-guy makeup was getting under my nails and grossing me out, but I was so angry that I couldn't stop clawing at his chin with one hand and shoving the dildo into his lips with the other hand. 

In the meantime, pretty much everyone at the funeral rushed up to me and was trying to stop me.  Most people were grabbing my arms and waist, trying to pull me away from the casket, and someone was trying to pull the dildo out of my hand, but I looked over and a few people are just straight up laughing, namely: Jay, Bev, Beth, Rafi and Amy.  There might've been more, but I don't remember.  Seeing them laughing made me want to laugh, but then I was pissed off because I was losing my momentum, and I still really wanted to cram that dildo in his mouth.  But then Jon (Mellowdrone's lead singer, for those of you who don't know) came up to me with a grave look on his face and began to chastise me: "Em, what are you doing?  You're embarrassing Brian.  Look!  The man's blushing, Emily!  Did your mother raise you to be like this?"  I looked up and, sure enough, Brian (Mellowdrone's drummer, for those of you who don't know) was turned away from me, head down, face flushed, looking mortified.   

Suddenly, I felt so guilty for making Brian feel bad that I was like, "Aw, Brian, no!  It's ok!  I wasn't really trying to cram a dildo down his throat!  It's just a hankie, see?"  And sure enough, my dildo was now a frilly hanky and everyone who had been trying to pull me away from the casket was magically back in their seats, except for Jon who was still standing in front of me, and Brian, who was now facing me to see whether I was holding a hankie or a dildo.  (And by the way, I love the fact that we were even calling them "hankies" in my dream.)  I sort of shook the hanky in the air so Brian could see it, and he cracked this huge, beautiful grin and said, "You should stick that up his nose."  So I turned towards the coffin to cram the hankie up Dead Guy's nose when the thin little stick that was propping the coffin lid up snapped. 

The crash of the coffin lid slamming down woke me up. 

Moral of the story: If you ever date me, don't think about commiting suicide and having Bright Eyes played at your funeral, or you will get a dildo crammed in your mouth, or a hankie crammed up your nose, or both.

Welcome to our dream worlds

Hi there, world.  Avani and I (Emily, in case you can't figure that out on your own, genius) had a conversation one day about our dreams.  That conversation turned into, like, a marathon.  And then we kept having subsequent conversations about them.  And then we'd email each other and be like, "OMG, I totally had this bizarre dream about you."  (I'm going to pause in the story here to let you know that Avani wanted me to make sure that YOU know that we do not, in fact, talk like Valley Girls.  I just write like one.  Have a field day with that one, Freud!)  Ok, well, actually, I only did that to her.  But still.  ANYWAY, because of our repeated dream conversations, we decided the best course of action would be to provide you, the world and all its citizens, the opportunity to benefit from the glory of our vivid and titillating dream worlds, too.  Hahaha, who are we kidding?  We totally know that we're the only ones reading this.   Mostly, we just wanted a means of documenting and easily sharing our dreams with each other.  So really, this is a completely self-serving endeavor.  So pop your popcorn, settle in, put on your reading glasses, take off your blouse (oops, nevermind, that's for our *other* blog), and dive in to our bizarre and sometimes terrifying minds.

Smoochies!
Avani and Emily