To say that I have bizarre dreams is an understatement to say the least. Years and years of bizarre dreams. Which makes me wonder… what the hell is going on in my subconscious?!
There have been a ton of scientific studies on sleep and dreaming. It’s been shown that our brains need time to process and learn new things, and that this “offline” time occurs during sleep. Some scientists believe that dreams occur because the brain is trying to complete the work that it was doing during wakeful hours. They suggest that dreams are almost a dry run for problem solving, running us through different scenarios. While that may be true, and a lot of studies show it probably is, I have to question it to some extent. Because in what scenario am I going to have to fly over a dystopian city while wearing a chicken suit and a propeller beanie, armed with an old-school M60?!
Truth. That is one of my recurring dreams. Let me give you a visual so you can truly picture this accurately.
So… the dream. In it, I’m flying over the aforementioned dystopian city, wearing a chicken suit very close to the one above, minus the head. My propeller beanie, minus the pig, is what keeps me aloft. I’m armed with an M60, a machine gun that is also known as “The Pig,” thanks to it’s fat-assery and appetite for rounds. This fucker isn’t light, at just over 23 lbs. I’ve fired it, and while accurate, not exactly prime flying weaponry. Of course, I’m flying while wearing a chicken suit and a propeller beanie, so factual accuracy is clearly not required with this particular dream. Anyway, I’m flying about, not shooting anything, just watching the city burn in the distance. Super cheery, I know. Then an eagle swoops in, almost taking me out of the sky. A big eagle, like the heifers in Lord of the Rings that save Frodo and Samwise. I survive and somehow end up in my old recruiting station, where (in real life) I went into the Army back in a day. But the inside of it looks like the briefing room where I gave speeches to noob soldiers (in real life) at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. It has a long counter, behind which I stood when speeching at them. And now I’m using it for cover, since I’m in a full-scale firefight with unknown enemies. My Pig is on its tripod on the counter, and suddenly I’m wearing multiple belts of rounds over my chicken suit. Think Rambo… but shorter, girlier, and, well, in a chicken suit. Rounds are flying, there is shouting, and then…
Nothing. I wake up here every time.
So again… tell me what problem I’m solving here.
And then there’s the dream I had recently. It involved me, a GIANT vat of cream cheese (like a kiddie pool’s worth), and yodeling. But I wasn’t yodeling. I was just lounging in the cream cheese like it was a bath. And I was reading a book… upside down.
Bottom line… I might be losing it.