I would give this dream a title, but I really don't even know where to start.

Sometimes I wake up from a dream and think, “Good job, brain!” and congratulate it for dreaming in a way that maximizes the comedy for good old Popcorn Day. Like this one, or this one, and of course this bad boy, who started this whole crazy blog in the first place.

This is also one of those moments.

The dream started with pizazz: I was parachuting down to my friend’s lakeside cabin. I landed on the lake, and decided to do some walking on top of the water for awhile before I came in. It wasn’t too hard. Really, it’s all in the way use your feet. I’ll show you sometime. 

After I wandered to shore, I had to take a wee, and my friend directed me to go in the door and to the right. “The bathroom is being renovated right now so it looks kind of crappy, but it still works.” So I went inside to the right only to find an empty space in their kitchen where it appeared as if a dishwasher had just been. 

“This can’t be the bathroom,” I said to myself, “but there’s nothing else around, so what the heck.” I squeezed myself into the little cranny and tried to get in a safe and satisfactory peeing position. 

[This is a normal position for me, usually seen when I'm on an airplane, or getting into a car, or going spelunking. I'm just really tall, okay?]

Then my friend came in.

FRIEND: Brian! Brian NO!

ME: What...

FRIEND: That’s where our dishwasher used to be! Don’t pee there!

ME: You TOLD me to pee here! I was just following directions.

FRIEND: Why would we put a crawl-in bathroom in the kitchen?

ME: Okay, listen. You told me to go the right, I went to the right. You told me to look for a crappy half-renovated room, and what the eff am I in right now. You told me that  if I found that place I could pee there. Thus, here I am, about to pee. 

FRIEND: But it’s not a bathroom. It’s just not. 

ME: But it’s a torn-up place to the right when you walk in the door.

FRIEND: Still not a bathroom. 

ME: I was just following your directions. All items on the list point directly to this spot. 

FRIEND: You’re dreaming.

[Suddenly all the people in the scene minding their own business looked directly at us.]

ME: That’s beside the point. You directed me here. 

FRIEND: It was my bad. When I said go right, I meant left. The real, actual, non-dishwasher bathroom is to the left. You may pee there. 

ME: Thanks. I really gotta go. 

After I had peed, we decided to tour a nearby college. It was beautiful there: vine-covered brick buildings and flowering trees. There was a pool on campus with a poorly made and barely legible sign stating...

While my friends took some time to figure out how two of those items could possibly relate to pool rules, I said goodbye because I had to take off in my MILLENNIUM FALCON. 

Good job, brain!

But hold that thought. My copilot and I had just pulled out of lightspeed when he received a prophesy–yes, a prophesy–that we were going to be shot down. I wondered for a while if it was going to be a dramatic and heartfelt death, but then we got hit and my copilot put his hands frustratingly in the air.  

And as we spun through space in a sparking, smoky fireball, I realized it wasn’t going to be a very meaningful death at all. Well, that sucks. 

After I died, however, I found myself at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (yes, Harry Potter being the subject of my dreams again) and they were trying to teach me the school anthem, but I kept singing it to the tune of The Angry Beavers’ theme song, which coincidentally is also my morning alarm, which was going off. 

So I woke up. It’s not often that you parachute, walk on water, almost pee in a kitchen, fly the Millennium Falcon, and go to Hogwarts all in one night.  It’s probably because I had my annual Taco Bell visit that day.