The Eleven of Spades

          I think that you would have to agree with me, dreams by their very nature are really weird.  At least mine are.  Not like the ones that are portrayed in the movies. You know the ones where the picture is very blurry except for the center which is clear as a bell.  The characters are all as they appear in the rest of the film, in the same surroundings. The only thing different is that they speak with slow, droopy voices.  I’m talking about the ones that sound like Darth Vader with a mouth full of peanut butter and molasses with a smattering of 20W-50 Motor Oil.


I don’t know  about your dreams, but mine never take place in a setting that I’m familiar  with. The people are sometimes real people but most of the time they are total  strangers who are supposed to be people I know.  For example, I’m supposed to be at home, but the structure looks nothing  like it.  I know that someone is supposed  to be my cousin, but they bear no resemblance to him.  We never did get along, but he didn’t have boobs,  horns on his head and a long red tail.  That was the old man next door.


The other morning I had one where my wife had a stroke and was walking around with onions and green peppers pinned in her hair. When I awoke, I jumped out of bed scared out of my wits and ran into the kitchen. She was sitting there reading the morning paper healthy as can be. I know I startled her when I asked her if she were okay. “Why would you ask such a thing?” she replied. I told her about my recent dream and she laughed as she pulled pickled cauliflower and stewed prunes from her ears. Seems I was still asleep and dreaming. A dream within a dream. Boy was I relieved when I realized what was happening. But that’s okay, because it really wasn’t my wife reading the paper anyway. And, all of the people in our kitchen, which BTW wasn’t our kitchen, they were strangers waiting for a bus.


Then there are the recurring dreams.  Mine is that I’m trying to make a phone call and the instrument doesn’t work.  It’s usually a cell phone with a dial instead of a key pad or a calculator that only connects me with the math department at MIT.  Kevin Spacey always answers and he tells me to “hold on seventeen.”  I tell him that’s absurd because the name of the movie is “21“, not seventeen.  But he then reminds me that there is no “eleven” card in the deck, so how could I get twenty one.  “Oh, right,” I reply.  “Thanks. Then I’ll take a dozen American Beauty Roses.”  “Okay.” he says, “That will be one hundred foil  covered chocolate coins.”


Another form of dream that I experience is what I call “the endless hallway”.  In this dream I am trying to get from point A to point B on a very important mission or trying to accomplish a crucial task.  I have to go through a building, usually paneled in mahogany with chrome trim accented with slate grey, short nap commercial grade carpeting, lit with recessed fluorescent lighting.  The designer has tied it all together with retro Danish modern chairs covered in an aquamarine tinted faux burlap fabric and Picasso prints on the walls.  There are glass walls on either side. Then I realize that I’m in an episode of “Retro Office” on HGTV and I begin running, my briefcase contents spilling onto the floor, screaming frantically “I want My MTV.”  That’s when I wake up and realize that nature is calling.  Good thing I didn’t duck into the men’s room, I’d have been in trouble.


Finally, we can’t forget about the “unprepared” dreams. I’m talking about the dream where I am preparing to go on a trip, give a major presentation at the office or deliver lines on stage.  Nothing is ever falling into place, I mean with the exception of the sky.  The suitcase won’t close and I can’t reach the airline by phone (this is called a combo dream because I am combining the “broken telephone” with the “unprepared”. . . ooooh, one of the worst kind) and, I am at the gate waiting to board the aircraft.  If that isn’t enough, I forgot to put my trousers on and everyone is laughing at me.  But that’s okay.  They don’t realize that they’re supposed to be in my kitchen waiting for the bus. Who’s laughing now?


We could drive ourselves crazy trying to figure out the meaning of our dreams. Some people even keep a pad and pencil next to their bed to record theirs as soon as they wake up. Personally, I just choose to take them for what they are, a manifestation of my deep seated, long forgotten but always present inner child longing to be free from the bonds of a troubled society wrapped up in turmoil and distrust, powdered with a desire to unleash my pent up hostilities. Either that or the pizza with everything on it I had for dinner. I’ll ask my shrink at my next session how that makes him feel.

If you have weird dreams tonight, don’t blame it on me. Just look at what you had for dinner the night before.

NOTE:  All original written material or original graphics are property of the originator and author of this blog (unless otherwise noted), can only be used or reproduced with my written permission and must contain a link or reference to  when use is permitted.


4 thoughts on “REALLY WEIRD DREAMS

  1. Not a lie – while growing up i had a recurring dream (among many) wherein we were driving down the street at night in a convertible. Invariably my ear would stuck in one of the lamp posts (i know, a common enough occurrence), but no matter how much i yelled, my dad would not stop the car, and my ear simply stretched out as we continued to drive.

    i still have no idea what the dream meant. Maybe the next time you speak to Kevin you could ask him for me?

  2. My father has a theory about dreams. He says that they are just instant information downloads, sort of. The dream you remember is your memory of how that information was put together. So you actually experience the whole dream in less than a second, but reflect on it afterward when you are awake as a story. It’s strange, but it’s interesting.

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