A Workout for my Unconscious Mind

It’s been a month since my last blogworthy dream.  A month, people! Maybe I’ve been too stressed or maybe I’m sleeping too well, I dunno, but my dreams have either been really boring or nonexistent.

Yesterday I decided to do something about it. I remembered back to the days of Popcorn Day, when I was dreaming up dreams faster than I could blog about them. And I remember people asking me, “Jeez, Brian, what did you eat before you went to bed?”  My answer was always something strange, like for example, before Popcorn Day I had eaten “Chili Cheese Fritos on top of Spicy Cheetos.”  I kid you not.

Well, we no longer have anything resembling a Frito in this house, but I thought I’d eat something anyway to help to, you know, nudge my unconscious into party mode.  I reheated a little bit of my dinner (blackened tilapia with cucumber salsa) and ate it right before I went to bed.  And lo and behold: a dream. It wasn’t a bang-up, out of the park, dynamite, name-a-blog-after-it kind of dream (it seems as though my unconscious is a little out of shape), but it was, nonetheless, a dream.

It was Thanksgiving.  We had the whole famn damily over and we were playing games in the backyard, which was sunny and warm. (Fitting for November, right?) I then was struck with an urge to express myself artistically. I was so in love with this idea. So original! So inspiring! So challenging and meaningful! I ran back inside, took off my pants, and started hot-gluing unopened Pepsi cans to my boxers. I then walked outside and continued to play yard games.

Don’t ask me how my piece of art stayed on my body, but it did (probably because of the flawlessness of the design).   I got a few looks from my family members, but I just shook my head.  Brilliant artists are never appreciated in their own time.  

And then I woke up.