if you blog it, it will come

everyone has strange dreams. the trick is remembering them so you can bring them up at opportune times. like in the middle of a badminton game, or when a date starts talking about taxes (will report as soon as i've tried at least one of those options).

if you ask me (and no one has, so far), a dream is an amalgam of random thoughts and visual and auditory input from your past, intertwined together by a plot that can be so completely otherworldly that you wake up feeling like an indie scriptwriter on drugs. this is why i don't believe that you should overinterpret dreams. if i did, i'd probably have asked someone to chop the trees in the backyard (i used to dream the trees wanted to kidnap me) or stopped from drinking milk completely (i dreamed* people came back as milk in their second life). my point: dreams don't always point to a deeply rooted problem. maybe your brain just needs a hobby.

one of my favorite dream plots belongs to christine, one of my best friends currently in hong kong. in that novelesque dream, she and a group of children were being chased by dinosaurs who wanted to eat them. apparently, there was a lot of red tape involved in carnivorous activities in her dream world because before a dinosaur could eat someone, he or she had to FILL OUT A FORM (significant pause). and because the children were too young to fill out the forms themselves, the adults helped the kids with the paperwork . . . so they could all be eaten alive.

i've since then decreased contact with christine.

(am kidding, of course. when the time comes, i'd like someone like her to help me fill out my pre-death forms.)

last night, i dreamed that i was on a small road with four or five pedestrian lanes. or maybe they were just white lines running across the street. in any case, i felt compelled to do something about all the whiteness. so i grabbed a pint of peach paint (don't ask me where i got it or why it's peach) and a wide paintbrush, and proceeded to make the white lines peach. it was after midnight so there were no cars and the few people that could've been witness to my vandalism didn't really care. they were probably living out their own dreams at the time.

anyway, i finished the paint job and felt guilty as hell immediately after. i sensed that the police were after me (i love how senses are heightened in dreams) so i threw the can on one side of the road and the paintbrush on the opposite side. then i ran and ran (all that running is solid proof that it was all just in my mind) until it dawned on me that the CSI can lift my prints off the can (note to self: just choose two out of the three CSIs. horatio will not mind). so i ran back and sneakily retrieved the can and brush. then i started running again.

there is nothing like the feeling of waking up and realizing that the past few hours of your life were not part of the real world.

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*sometimes i feel that 'dreamed' is incorrect -- my first choice is always 'dreamt' -- but fantine clears it up for me (gay test #3) (for your convenience, here's test 1 and 2)