I Had a Dream

I’ve been having weird dreams lately.

I can’t figure it out. I think my new air-conditioner is disrupting my sleep cycles when it violently shakes in the middle of the night and makes noises that sound reminiscent of German industrial punk rock. Either that, or my roommate is putting peyote in my pasta.

The first dream was about a week ago.

My old roommate Patrick and I were in a cross-country bicycle race against retired NBA players. That’s it. Us Vs. The Tall Guys, in a journey across America. We barely lost, and Patrick (med school student), kept making scientific excuses about how it wasn’t fair because they had longer legs. Then, out of nowhere, another old roommate, Justin (male model), appears and says “Hey. You win some, you lose some.”

And then all 3 of us simultaneously had a “lightbulb” go off above our heads, and we said at the same time, “You Dim Sum, You Booze Some!!!”

We moved out to Los Angeles and owned and operated the most successful Pan-Asian Tapas Bar in recent memory.

Then my alarm went off.

The other night, I had another weird dream.

THE SCENE: The Deep South, mid 20th century in an alternate universe at a prestigious law school

Mark and Terry are roommates and hotshot law students on the fast track to success. They’re on top of the world, but a deep dark secret could make them lose everything. (It’s not what you think)….

While walking home late one evening from the library, Mark and Terry discover a talking horse. They befriend the horse and meet up with it late at night to discuss torts and property law (law school stuff, ya know?). They are acing their classes, and the discussions with the wise collegiate Clydesdale are helping them excel. Their classmates suspect they’re cheating on tests and begin spying on them.

The one thing they hate more than colored folk in this parallel universe Deep South is talking horses. When their classmates catch them talking about interstate commerce law with the equine late one evening behind the library, Mark and Terry jump on the back of the stallion and bolt out of town. They’re chased throughout the South (pitchforks, flaming torches, etc.) by mobs of foaming at the mouth horse-racists.

The word spreads across the country, and several newspaper reporters interview our unlikely trio along the way. Gallup poll estimates that more than half the country supports talking horses.

The times are a changing.

The dream culminates with a historic speech on the National Mall in front of the Lincoln Memorial. Soon after a heroic oratory, the horse falls down the steps of the memorial and breaks it’s leg. The ending is inevitable. Mark and Terry cry and have one last inspiring and emotional talk with the horse. Mark convinces Terry he must shoot the horse with a large rifle.

I wake up to my alarm clock shortly after witnessing a funeral march through Washington led by talking horses pulling a wagon with a horse-shaped coffin draped with an American flag.

Any Freudian interpretations?

Download audio of my dream journal…
(my first experiment with podcasting)