Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be pandering mutant amputee cowboys

Now for another glimpse into my fuct head. My fictional attorney has advised me to preface the recounting of this little episode with a few statements: "I have no earthly clue what the hell is wrong in my brain" and "With the exception of Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson, I actively avoid country music". That said, this dream was about country music singer Toby Keith. Actually, that isn't entirely accurate. I think the actual dream was about something else, and the part I'm about to relate was more of a backdrop for the "real" dream. But I can't remember the particulars of the main storyline (or dreamline, if you prefer), and this is the only part that still sticks with me.

For some reason, due to a weird disease that exists only in my dreaming mind, Toby Keith’s left leg had fallen off. My slumbering subconcious decided to keep pace with today's hollow, entertainment focused "news" programming, and had public service announcements popping onto the television every five or ten minutes advising viewers about Keith’s missing leg, and pleading for a transplant donor. Apparently Toby Keith had already tried once to have a fresh transplant leg grafted on, but his body rejected it. So now doctors were looking to try again. Then they’d cut to a shot of Toby Keith hopping around onstage in a cowboy hat, an empty pant leg trailing behind him. He had a guitar shaped like a crutch. Near the end of the PSA, in what I feel was my brain's editorial about this entire Toby Keith fiasco, the camera zoomed in tightly on his face to reveal the visage of an eight year old with Downs Syndrome.

I think I may have considered donating my leg before I woke up.

I should probably be on some kind of pills.

Roller Skate Queen

Just dreamed this last night:

I was in some club that had a continuous path around the outside wall of it that looked perfect for roller skating (which btw I haven't done since jr. high or earlier). So, I strapped on the roller skates I just happened to have with me and proceeded to skate around and around and around the club. Past the bar. Past all the tables. Past the D.J. booth. As the club started to fill up, people began to place wagers on how long I could keep going around. Could I make it until 1 am? The people betting for me began to shout encouraging words as I would whiz by them (much like people do in marathon races). Of course, I made it until 1 am and promptly got drenched by Gatorade and was crowned queen of the roller skate.

???????????????????????????

Hairdreams

I started shaving my head when I was twenty-two. I'm in my thirties now. Over the years, I've begun having dreams in which I have hair - lots of hair. Following is my all-time favorite...

I dreamed that I was at work. The finance manager, Teresa, walked up to me, looking quite harried. She complimented me on my hard work during the recent company-wide software conversion.

I thanked her, but her disheveled appearance made me suddenly paranoid about my own. Do I look that bad? I quickly excused myself and went to the bathroom.

I stared into the mirror and examined my shoulder-length hair. I smiled, feeling quite pleased at the sight of my (obviously expensive) dark brown and red dye job, with bleach-blonde tips.

I picked up a large silver hairbrush which had been sitting on the counter, and began to brush my hair. With each stroke of the brush, my hair did exactly what I wanted it to. In fact, my hair even exceeded my expectations as I continued to brush it. In only a few moments of brushing, I looked utterly fabulous!

I turned to leave, but on second thought, decided to brush the hair on the left side of my head just a couple more times. To my amazement, my hairdo transformed into a three-foot tall, spiraling, shiny spiked hair sculpture.

I stared at the fantastic visage of myself in the mirror and realized that I looked just like Joan Collins (but with an elaborate, three-foot high sculpted hairdo).


I stepped out of the bathroom and stood in glory as everyone at work commented on how stunnning my hair looked. "Where did you have it done?" they asked.

And I told them, with great satisfaction, "I just went into the bathroom and brushed it!"

I've got dreams, dreams to remember...

Screw my dreams lately. Last night's was strait fuct. None of it made sense. Not one damn element. See, I had to leave work early, because the building was on fire. So I'm sitting in my truck at the Taco Bell drive-thru trying to order a box of sixty-four crayons (with the sharpener in the back) when my cell phone rings. On the other end of the line, my wife asks me when the hell I'm going to be home, because she needs my help to turn on a light. No sooner do I open my mouth to reply then my truck's engine blows. It is now a dull roar drowning out my sweet wife's lovely voice. Actually, perhaps the obscenities I was screaming were what drowned her out. Either way, I quickly get off the phone with her, because I need one hand to drive, and the other to drink the Guiness that has magically appeared in my lap. I blow off ever trying to get any crayons from the idiots at Taco Bell and pull out on to the main road, trying not to spill my beer. I have driven about four feet and had in excess of two sips of beer when my dream drunk buzz kicks in. Suddenly, all the headlights of oncoming cars are blazing past me like they were filmed in time-lapse, and for some reason the once straight road now hairpins like a bad videogame. I manage to stay on the twisting road for about another twelve feet, until my dream drunk shifts into dream shitfaced, and I slide off into a ditch. After I get my broken-down truck stopped, my first thought is that someone will soon pull over to help me, but will then notice my Guiness and call the cops. So I wing that bad boy out the window into passing traffic. It is dashed to flinders on the grill of wide Chevy. Yet as soon as the beer leaves my hand, the intoxication fades, and I notice that I can just drive right out of the ditch and back on to the road (which is now arrow-straight). I barely make it out of the ditch and on to the road before I have to slam on the brakes to avoid rear-ending the Chevy that killed my beer. The driver is pretty worked up about it, and he gets out of the passenger side of his car and runs at my truck. Now, with dream logic running full steam, my truck suddenly has no windshield or upper cab (like an old army jeep). Homeslice whips out a can of what I first think is mace, and begins spraying it at me. Instead of a liquid spray, it seems to be a weird mix of silly string and expanding foam. It takes me about half a second to realize that it isn't burning my eyes or skin the way mace should. Then the foam starts electrocuting me tazer-style...
I awoke to the sounds of a storm breaking outside. I rolled over and spooned my wife and considered not drinking a Black&Tan that close to bedtime again.
Oh, and for the record, I never eat at Taco Bell for "personal" reasons. And I have never owned a cell phone.

Coming soon, my Gary Busey dream.
~

Denial...

My latest weird dream:

I woke up in my apartment and headed to the bathroom. In the hallway between my bedroom door and the bathroom door on the floor was my toaster. Perplexed, I picked it up and proceeded to head to the kitchen to return it to its proper place. Upon entering my living room, all of my pictures on the wall were in different places and some were upside down and on their sides. Not a single one was right side up or in its original position. Even more confused, I was standing in awe when I saw that my door was open about two inches. Then I freaked out because I realized that my dog, Daphne, wasn’t in my apartment anymore (mind you I live in a place that #1 doesn't allow pets and #2 Daphne has been gone for at least 6 years). I go rushing out the door and down the step and out of the building and stop abruptly, because my dog is across the parking lot hanging out by the garages. She sees me and I say, "Get over here you dork!" She dopily trots over to me and we head back up to my apartment. We get inside and I bend down to pet her head and ask her, "Who did this to us?" And that ends the dream.

I have NO CLUE what any of this means, so I went online to find out.

INTERPRETATIONS:

The Toaster: A kitchen and the appliances in it is about nourishment, it's about something that keeps you healthy and strong. So dreaming about a kitchen or kitchen appliances is dreaming about the core things that keep you alive. This isn't a dream about "being happy". It's a dream about surviving. Something is serious in your life, something that is causing an incredible drain on you. Something is missing from your life; something is sapping your energy. It's time to look through what is going on in your life and make sure you are getting all the nutrients you need to live. [Hmmm? Interesting...]

The misplaced pictures/paintings: Paintings may represent a need to express your creativity or a desired image of your future. They may also represent your emotional state. [So, if these pictures are all out of whack, then I assume that means my emotional state is all jumbled???]

My deceased childhood dog: Is the dog being helpful, hanging out with you, and staying by your side? If so that is a great sign that you are happy with the relationship and have found a healthy level of trust in it. [So, I have turned to my trusty childhood companion for comfort and guidance?]

After looking at all of these factors and what they are supposed to mean, it does make a bit of sense. I have been questioning a lot of things in my life lately and have taken the complacent route and choosing to shove it to the back of my mind and not deal with it directly. I guess my subconscious is bringing it back up to the fore front and saying, "Hello! I am still here. I am not going away. You will have to deal sometime."

Interesting...

Not ready yet...

Is this a Wu Yen Marketing Idea?

Several weeks ago, the Wu Yen Marketing Idea came to me in a dream. I posted my dream to my other web log, Anarchestra, and it occured to me that it would be fun to create a space just for dreams - and not just mine, but anyone who wants to share their cooky mindspew.

So here it is - the space to do it. Mindscrapes.

And, for the ribbon-cutting, I thought it only fitting to re-post the dream that inspired this place:

Wu Yen Marketing Idea

Composers, authors, and inventors have credited their dreams with the inspiration for some of their greatest creations. Thomas Edison, Charles Dickens, and Robert Louis Stevenson (among many others) have all created works from ideas that came to them in dreams. I keep a notebook by the bed to write down my dreams, not because I believe any of my dreams will inspire a Pulitzer- or Nobel-prize winning creation, but because my dreams are so often hilarious.

But then, a couple nights ago, I woke up from a vivid dream, and shining in my mind like a sparkling jewel was the Wu Yen Marketing Idea. It was an idea so fresh, so innovative - so good - that it could surely change my life, nay, the world forever.

For a few moments, I lay basking in the brilliance of the idea, with the dream fresh in my mind. "This is a dream worthy of your notebook!" I thought to myself. And I hugged my pillow closer to my face, listening to the soft whispers of Jay's sleeping breath.

"You better get the notebook and start writing," I prodded myself, feeling the soft, cool cotton pillowcase against my cheek as the dream's luminescence began to dwindle.

Sensing that the dream's memory was going to flicker out completely if I didn't act, I finally sat up and reached for the notebook. I pulled the pen from the spiral binder and began to write. The room was pitch-black, but I pressed the pen to the page, faithfully recounting the dream as its memory began to fade even more rapidly.

The next morning, the page (below) awaited me on my bedstand.



Click here for a larger image.

There's quite a bit even I can't read, and an equal amount I don't remember writing (or dreaming) at all. I will, however, attempt to translate the scripture for you here.

Wu Yen (illegible) viral mktg idea

I think we are (illegible) in an open market area. Sheehan, I think it was called. We had no money, but I had a little. The girl said I should get more money... I think. Anyway, I passed a certain point, almost feeling as though I had reached a new skill level. My computer (blackberry, etc.) automatically begins downloading an application (P2P file sharing music software similar to LimeWire). A dialog box appears along with the download, called Wu Yen, that reads: "You meant to do that." with 2 buttons: "I know" and "No I Didn't." Take it from there - I'm falling asleep again. - Matt

P.S. Argue w. the dialog box as the software din't know. A lot of people don't know.

And there, my faithful readers, you have the Wu Yen Marketing Idea. The odds it will change the world... perhaps a bit slimmer than I originally speculated in the excitement of my slumber the other night. I'm not even betting on it changing my life, to be honest. But I'll be damned if it won't at least change our lexicon, if only slightly and briefly.

So please, beloved Anarchestra-teers, join me in using Wu Yen Marketing Idea in daily speech, and help add it to our vocabulary!

Wu Yen Marketing Idea
Pronunciation: 'wü 'yen 'märketi[ng] i-'dE-&
Function: noun
Etymology: North American English, from scanning 1000s of Chinese Business Cards and lack of sleep, derived from dream, early 21st Century.
1 A brilliant idea that can not be remembered.
2 Any idea that seemed good at the time, but is actually crap.
3 (archaic) An idea with the potential to change the life of its creator, if not the entire world.

I challenge you to use "Wu Yen Marketing Idea" at least once in the next 24 hours! Starting...... NOW.

Get your friends and co-workers to use it too! (You can tell me where and when you used it by commenting on this blog entry.)