Saturday, May 22, 2010

On Dreams, Pt. IV

As I am writing this, it is a little before 10:30 on Friday morning. Those of you who know me will be surprised I am mentioning a time that ends in "a.m." that coincides with their being actual daylight outside.

Truth be told, I had a scary dream. I feel like the mark of being an adult is having a nightmare and immediately being able to roll over and go back to sleep. This time, however, I felt legitimately rested and awake.

My dream was actually so disturbing, so disgusting and out of character for my mind I can't even legitimately be afraid of it.It was like watching a cross between an over-the-top Japanese gorefest and Jennifer's Body (which interestingly I mentioned last night to elucidate how horrendous Megan Fox's acting is. "Have you seen 'Jennifer's Body?' "No?" "Exactly.")

It seems in my dream I was a detective of some kind. I had a very cool gun, in fact. I had just been transferred onto the Tokyo Police force, apparently through some twist of fate mirroring the flash-sideways universe on LOST.

Wandering around, I bumped into a couple well dressed men who, according to my inner monologue, were gangsters, yakuza, presumably, but inexplicably white. In fact, one of them was my friend Steve. Steve was immaculately dressed in some kind of swanky 3-piece corduroy suit.

Apparently, Steve was an ill-tempered Japanese mafioso, because when I kept insisting I felt like I knew him from his suit he pulled his gun on me. That was the point I dove to the ground and reached to the back of my waistband for my own weapon, as my partner went for his.

Then things got all gross and creepy. Steve's boss, rather than see him in custody, fell atop Steve, raining blows upon him. Once stunned, him bit into both of Steve's ears as a scarring display of disowning. Then somehow he slipped his right arm underneath Steve and managed to disembowel Steve bare-handed. Considering I don't watch horror movies, my brain did a pretty decent job of rendering stomach, small and large intestines spilling out of a ripped abdomen.

Meanwhile, all of this is being overlaid with a scene of a Japanese woman dying in the process of birthing a still-born fetus that looks like an angry, Satanic alien baby. That was gross, but did I mention I was feeling her pain? Yes, my guts were exploding outward from my mouth, bubbles of digestive lining herniating up through my esophagus and out my mouth, bursting and squirting out white bile like a mid-nineties Super Soaker, the heat of which was palpable as it often sprayed up to hit me on the nose and face. Maniacal fetus baby cackled and hissed at me, some kind of demonic, extra-dimensional observer.

So yeah, that was pretty weird. I mean, I don't even think Japanese police officers are allowed to carry guns.

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