Night Visions, December 2014
Codes: "IRL" = "in real life". "INV" = "in Night Vision", meaning untrue in real life.
"Skip" means a sudden transition from one segment to another. "The 1250" references my childhood home, a (too) frequent setting for my visions. Josie is my daughter, and most of my life has been spent with Chicken and Alex as friends. Any other people referenced, past jobs worked at or life experiences are real unless otherwise noted.
(Dates of awakening listed)
Two Men...No Baby? (December 31, 2014)
At a warehouse, I give "Vargas" from Seinfeld some TP; he takes it and vanishes. As I wait for him (apparently he's my trainer), I'm thrust high in the air on stacked boxes—with Josie—far too high to leap. But we mysteriously touch back down, and Vargas is curt to us for no reason.
Next, I'm in bed with my ex and Josie; she's in a military uni and asked by someone to arrange for "two men" as well as a Taco Bell delivery for ourselves. We don't hear the delivery guy buzz and get fined $100. Lastly, I'm arguing with my mom over a crying Vladimir Guerrero's manhood.
She's My #1 Fan (December 30, 2014)
I'm Derek Jeter. I thrice try to intentionally wet myself. I'm finally successful, and some random girl makes an art project using my wiped-up urine.
MOMMMMMM!! (December 27, 2014)
Segment A) I'm playing full-court hoops and playing well (apparently I had six points but can only remember two, a J following a missed free throw.) On one play, the opposing center gets the rock at the top of the arc; I smartly anticipate a 3 and swat the living s---out of it.
Halftime comes, and our coach (Rob Williams of The Rob, Arnie & Dawn Show) speaks. When he's done I literally drop trou and pee all over the court—of the mind that it's okay for some reason. "You're DONE here." Williams warns. Promising to wipe my mess, I gather fountain water in my mouth and spit it all over the pee spot before wiping. What the hell is wrong with me?!
Segment B) An IRL friend and I are chillin' at the 1250. Said friend, a girl, is letting some dork do something sexual to her in the hall...not sure what until he comes in the room and brags about getting off on her stomach—he's real arrogant, especially considering he's probably a virgin. Whatever. He vanishes and the girl wants to lie with me...but my mom won't get off the bed until I force her to. Soon after, my friend leaves and we kiss goodbye; my mom picks this time to ask if "the medicine helped my bowel movement?"
Must've Been A Kleenex Commercial (December 26, 2014)
There is a new feature at AT&T Park: a tube that fans can climb and hit home runs somehow. Barry Bonds himself climbs and hits 39. Not bad, but while I'm watching and talking to an IRL old friend Cory (second time this month!), I miss out on a huge cash giveaway just over my shoulder. Nuts!
Skip to an episode of SVU, and Stabler and Munch are arguing. Stabler storms out to some posh Whole Foods-type market, where his loud earpiece braying is annoying the customers. He's called away by a suicidal NYPD staffer distraught over his fight with Munch. The show cuts to commercial, where two IRL stars of a soap I once watched make out—to my great pleasure. Even though one of them is pushing 60.
What's Next, A Fine? (December 25, 2014)
Tonight's vision has nothing to do with the holiday; it's The A-Team stealing the show. B.A. is accidentally knocked off scaffolding by an older version of himself, leading to a scene with 1985 Mr. T promising bodily harm upon 2010 Mr T. The whole episode centers around outsmarting some Wild West crooks and diverting stolen goods in a plane. They (we?) succeed, and wind up on Wheel of Fortune where the non-Sajak host gets frustrated over the team's failure to guess correct letters.
The Warriors play the Nuggets at home and are blowing them out so badly that the league forces the second half to be played in Denver, right then and there. Not sure if the fans had to go, too.
Finally, I'm gifted with a surprise party at a lavish penthouse—decked out in silk tie and everything. The guests? All my former high school classmates (most of whom I haven't seen in 16 years.) One of them is Quarnita, a girl I spoke maybe eight words to IRL; she literally breaks down and cries upon our "reunion". Maybe it's cuz I gained so much weight.
Lastly, my ex arrives and accuses me of stepping out on her; not even video proof convinces her otherwise. #HappilySingle
Nope, She's Not Under This Rock (December 24, 2014)
My IRL (adult) cousin is grounded by her guardians but isn't about to let that stop her from going out. I encounter her as she's escaping, and for some reason agree to assist her. When her guardian emerges from the door, I shove my cousin out of sight and even go as far as to aid the search.
It's not openly stated, and I'd never do so IRL, but apparently I'm doing this because I want to screw one of my cousin's friends and think aiding her will help. (In fairness, I do apply that logic to my thinking IRL.)
Next thing I know it's day and I land at a donut shop with my ex and her colleague. In a scene reminiscent of many IRL clashes, I piss off my ex by offering to buy her coffee. Yes, you read that right. Her colleague tries to ease the tension with a smiling "I'll take some!"
It WASN'T For Sexual Services (December 23, 2014)
While checking out some new (nonexistent IRL) 1999 Topps cards, I run into some poop problems—namely, I need to poop and can't because now I'm suddenly in LF for some random team in some random game. Next thing I know, I'm leaving the shower with a too-small towel wrapped around my waist in search of a toilet...which is never found.
I also undertake a meeting with Rams owner Georgia Frontiere (who's dead IRL) about the Raiders. The transaction we're discussing is never specified, but my $1M/year for five-year offer is rejected. I pretend to not hear it and keep going for a while, until I find myself explaining the difference between S.W.A.T. and C.O. on Law & Order: SVU. Tonight really made no sense.
Hey, Bi---, I Didn't GIVE HER The Illness! (December 22, 2014)
My mom's longtime IRL bestie is dying and needs hospice care. I'm tasked with delivering her as my mom wails "My best friend is GONE!" in the car. Unable to walk or talk, Diane is wheeled inside and I deal with an uppity staff member who needs more authentication of my identity than the damn passport office. (In a miraculous turn of events, just before I go, Diane asks me to help her make a phone call. Nice!)
Additionally, I'm racing with my former IRL baseball teammates. After finishing 8th out of 14, I shout "MAN, I wanted to finish FIRST!" Doesn't that go without saying? Oh, well.
They Juiced...And They SCARE People In Their Sleep! (December 20, 2014)
I'm at the 1250, criticizing Rafael Palmeiro and Gary Sheffield as Hall-of-Famers in my grandma's empty room. I exit the room and suddenly feel...palpable tension. When I attempt to re-enter, there is pushback against the door—suggesting one of the stars is now on the other side, and probably not happy. Freaked out, I make tracks, but can only whisper a terrified "Palmeiro" when attempting to talk.
Next, I'm reunited with old IRL buds from way back, Paul and Cory, in parts unknown. During a drive, Paul explains his 12-year absence from my life (which IRL I never got) and a broken marriage resulting from too many calls to a dude. We end up at Taco Bell, where I shower (?) and show some random bum a gun in my truck. (Communicating with a bum? Gun? Truck? Who am I?)
And Then They All Went To The Peach Pit (December 19, 2014)
A pleasant visit back to my favorite zip code of all-time: 90210. A race riot is underway at California University, and Steve Sanders is the target of one angry fist. His wife Janet—who, it should be noted, he didn't even meet until out of college in the show—is about to get hers, as well. But she convinces her would-be assailant to hug instead, and soon the entire quad of clashing students has engaged in one giant hugfest. They don't even seem to remember what they were fighting about.
Things shift to the 49ers—and the craziest TD play ever. A kick (unsure what type) lands in the crowd behind the end zone; the man who catches the ball heaves it out of the crowd, over the end zone, and into the arms of a receiver near midfield. He scored. No flags. Nice throw.
Eat Your OWN Notes! (December 18, 2014)
I don't know how...or why...but I'm storing a live horse behind my bedroom door. It stays put, despite the lack of a barrier of any sort. Eventually I take pity on the poor thing and allow him to roam the house. At first he flips out at the dark and shoots back into my room. But when I add light, he's happy—so happy he tries to eat some important papers of mine. I pull them away—and the bastard tries to mouth-snatch them from my hand! Sigh...
Skip to the Oakland Coliseum, where I'm attending an A's game with three friends. I go to use a one-stall bathroom—yeah, right—but accidentally start to walk in on a female friend, who I didn't know was in there! She steps out, pissed. After I myself piss, I exit the john to find nearly all my 707 clan in our seating section. Turns out they all separately decided to attend this game and their seats just happened to be near ours!
Because of all this "coincidence", I become leery, and make tracks. After all, they might be plannin' me some kind of birthday party!
A Real Crappy Customer (December 17, 2014)
With IRL friends Rob and Raff at my side, I return to the streets as an armed courier. My day begins poorly when I apparently pull up to a red light too slowly, and the clown behind me exclaims, "You want ME to drive it for you??" Next thing I know, we're somehow nose-to-nose—though the guy is basically Charlie Day, he is fearless. Getting into my grill, the jerk snarls "Don't you ever say SH--- to me!" as he crosses the street. Fine, I won't.
Rob takes over driving, and we reach our first stop—a gas station. After service, I need to whizz. But a giant (I'm talking clipboard-sized) turd lies on the back rim of the bowl; so much for that. I'm forced to stand against the outside wall to handle business and hope A) no one sees my schlong, or B) they see it and don't care. Rob pulls around as I finish, and I climb back in the truck still exposed from the knees up. Sorry, guys.
For some reason, the next event in my vision takes me right back to the very same customer one day later. This time, Raff and I give service together. We're not delivering money, however—we're delivering chips. And Raff has opened one of the bags (luckily, I convinced the customer we weren't at fault even as Raff ate a chip right in front of him.)
I scan the items and go to have the guy's wife sign for them on the little computer. But she's so damn impatient she keeps trying to take it from me before I've set it up—meaning I keep having to reset it...and reset it...and time just wastes. The vision ends before I can crack her over the head with the computer. (Another segment: me helping Courteney Cox clean up after a party while avoiding a weirdo who's shadowing me.)
Is Asshole A Disability? (December 15, 2014)
Somehow, I've required the use of a manual wheelchair to trek across a large patch of (thankfully low-cut) grass. All is smooth until some idiot won't get out of my path, forcing me to go A-Team style over the hood of a car—but landing on my wheels!
Eventually, I reach the sidewalk. Despite more jackholes refusing to step aside for me and my chair, I end up back at high school—but with my present day attitude. Three different teachers try to assign me work; I simply refuse to do it, growing more indignant along the way. After ditching the last class, I can now walk—but I've got no shoes.
Do I swallow a huge helping of humble pie and return to the classroom to search, or do I walk across tree roots and fallen burrs/twigs to get home? Option B every time—humble pie is gross. It hurts badly at first as nature slices through my socks, but I do finally reach the 1250, where a huge husky stares me down as he lies dead near the sidewalk. End dream.
I'm Keeping The Deposit! (December 14, 2014)
Things begin with me at my apartment, where two strange dudes have moved in...with me. I find this out when one is casually using my washing machine. When I discover they've eaten my frozen chicken wings—and put the bones back in the freezer—I'm ready for blood. But I'm told they've already moved out (after one day). Was it something I said?
Next, I've been tasked with delivering some mail to a business off a main road in the 707. I double-park, planning to just run in and be gone—until I find a pack of chicken has mysteriously appeared and seeped blood over parts of the envelopes. I'm magically teleported back home for a shipping envelope, which I apparently plan to cram all the (opened) mail into. Yeah, that'll go over well.
I'm concerned about leaving my car double-parked for so long but outside, I find it magically teleported as well—but with a consign flat tire.
Almost forgot this part—giving up on the delivery, I go in and watch TV. First, a Seinfeld reunion in which I lament Michael Richards being too old to perform falling-down stunts anymore. Then—I kid you not—the cast of Three's Company in the WWE Royal Rumble. Janet will not let Larry or Terri participate—only she and Jack. She convinces Jack by pushing him into the famous Three's Company kitchen (which just happens to be conveniently close) and making out with him as the camera cuts to her husband wondering where the hell she is.
Now How The Hell Did She Know It? (December 13, 2014)
Two segments: The first featured my IRL crush working in a grocery store. When I go to pay for my things, she actually calls me by name—I exit the store walking on air.
The second featured my IRL cousin trying over and over again to borrow at least $100 from me. Refusals only spark more attempts. Finally he goes to my mom (?) trying to manipulate her into changing my mind. His tactics fail. Maybe Obama should try this method on Vladimir Putin, if Putin's mama is still alive. He can't do any worse than my cousin did.
Admittedly, nothing odd took place in tonight's vision, so I'll try to fill the entertainment gap with a related IRL story:
With my crush fresh on my mind after the dream, I took the unprecedented step of looking her up on Facebook. I never do this, as it feels like creepy stalking to me, but what can I say? I was weak. Turns out she's with someone and a parent of at least one—I spent the remainder of the night feeling downright crappy. Hope my sorrow makes up for the lack of an interesting dream.
Uh...Little Help? (December 10, 2014)
Goddamnit, back to the 1250. My IRL late grandma and Uncle Bubba live again...in squalor. I find a giant buffet of food in the hallway; my grandma insists it's still edible. I still won't go near it. Instead I magically appear in the bathroom, where not one but two clogged toilets reside. I flush one, and just as it's about to overflow...
...I suddenly find myself carrying a bunch of junk outside. A mystery car with a mystery young female are parked near our driveway—and wouldn't you know it, when the wind sends a piece of my junk airborne, it lands squarely on the side of her car (no damage). When I approach her to apologize, her kids get out of the car...and she drives off. So now I have two Caucasian children to explain. Oh, well, at least there's food inside.
Another Unhappy NBA Star (December 9, 2014)
I'm riding the bus home, as I'm carrying way too much crap to walk. I'm seated right behind the driver.
A few seconds into the ride, he whips out a receipt and asks me what the random number 4364 printed on it means. ??? I just knew it wasn't the price or store number and disembark soon after. A little Mexican girl tries to follow me home but mom (thankfully) prevents that.
At home, I find myself competing against the great Dwight Howard and his Rockets, wearing their old late-90's pinstripes. I'm actually holding my own against the big fella (IRL this would not happen, mostly because Howard is seven feet tall), leading me to believe I'm one of the best players in the NBA! Before I can figure out why I'm living in this dump if I'm such a great player, Howard gets annoyed about his lack of shots and the game ends.
Imagine that crawl on SportsCenter: Rockets Game Called (Superstar Pout); Rescheduled For January 12...
Steve Kerr Feuds With Himself (December 8, 2014)
Target is the setting for tonight's adventure; I think I'm a member of the Warriors, but it could be some random organized league.
My teammates are scattered around the store, as is our point guard Steve Kerr (the current Warriors coach IRL and a former NBA player). He has his bag of equipment, but he's not in uniform and very mad with our coach...who happens to be another Steve Kerr.
At one point I approach player Kerr outside and gently ask what is going on. He grumbles out something before spotting coach Kerr over my shoulder and demanding he "don't f-----g talk to me!" Oh-kaaay.
With game time inching near and other players apparently taking player Kerr's side and refusing to play, coach Kerr recruits folks in Target to fill out our roster at nine. He then turns our league game into three different games—don't know where he found the people—with our team slated to play second for the $500 pot. (That could buy up to three items at Target!) I awaken without ever finding out why Kerr was so angry.
Root Beer, Needy Chicks, and Vinsanity (December 7, 2014)
Good LORD, again with the 1250. My old IRL friend Jennifer has purchased the Savage family home, and managed to restore its mangled backyard in quick order. There, I meet with her—all she wants for her trouble is a root beer (I take it I will benefit from her house purchase somehow). To 7-11 I head, but of course their machine runs out of syrup halfway thru the fill-up. I mix in Dr. Pepper and hope she doesn't notice.
We never get that answer, cuz things skip to me and my new girlfriend (shudder). She is an IRL spoken-for friend who will remain unnamed so as to avoid anyone believing I actually covet this gal...which I truly don't; nothing wrong with her, just not my type.
"Cady", who admittedly became single for cheating on her longtime SO (which she'd never do IRL) is needy to the point of insisting I follow her in the bathroom. She's also accusatory and I want to dump her. We are driving when suddenly our side of the road turns into a loop not unlike those on a roller coaster. Though I reverse out of it before going fully upside-down, "Cady" is gone without explanation when I straighten back out. Nice.
I end up at the 1250, inside of which I am playing touch football. Yes, inside. I touch a kick returner and it clotheslines him, he's running so fast. I apologize. Later, Vince Carter himself (of basketball fame IRL) attempts to run one back; I touch him and he, too, goes down in a heap. Wow.
Somehow, I end up in pass coverage against "the fastest dude on the field." He easily scores on me, but I get revenge with a pick-six on the very next play! Said run-back sends me down the hallway and into my mom's old room doubling as the end zone. I'm so sick of dreaming about this place!!
A Crappy Way To Lose (December 6, 2014)
At the 1250 alone when salespeople clutter my driveway, threatening to "break the door down" before I yell out the window. "We were just kidding!" is the response. Soon, things shift to a Warriors game; the Dubs scratch out a 98-97 lead with 1.3 seconds remaining.
Again, I"m not making any of this up.
The other team's strategy is to throw the ball into a toilet rather than the hoop, and score two points that way. The Warriors prepare for this strategy, somehow cram into a stall, and block the bowl—clinching the win.
At Least He Didn't Throw Me Off (December 5, 2014)
I'm held captive at a farm in some sort of work slave boot camp. I make the mistake of complaining and am punched around the face. (I say around cuz the guy swung hard but his fist whooshed in front of me.) Soon, I'm ordered to mount a horse due to my "experience". I get on the horse, who begins to transport me across the field but soon stops—I"m too heavy!
Championship On Aisle 3 (December 3, 2014)
What a confluence: The Cleveland Cavaliers, The Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air, and a grocery store came together tonight.
The Cavs have beaten the Miami Heat for their first-ever NBA title, and the packed grocery store full of fans are...pleased. Not thrilled, not beside themselves with joy like one might expect—almost to a man, the spectators give nothing more than polite applause. Many are indifferent.
Meanwhile, it's my job to find LeBron James for a postgame interview—with help from Geoffrey the butler from The Fresh Prince. Thinking James needed privacy, we check the walk-in freezer first with no luck. Geoffrey grabs some meats to cook for the celebration and wanders off. I look around some more before re-entering the freezer—where I'm subtly accused by store managers of stealing the meats. I deny this, of course, and let them know Geoffrey took them—poking my head back in to clarify he took them for the celebration, not himself. Whew.
Still no sign of LeBron, so I head toward the corner of the store—where the celebration is underway. As I "stand guard", a dozen (fictional) Cavaliers are announced one-by-one and line up down an aisle of the store. I chop it up with several of them—strangely, none of whom are bigger than me—until finally LeBron is announced. Expecting a thunderous roar, he instead receives polite applause, the kind a golfer might get when sinking a 10-foot putt. "Do they even care?" I ask a player, who confirms the fans suck.
The dream ends with me forced to tell Geoffrey that Uncle Phil (a.k.a. the late James Avery) has died. The surviving Banks group hug, then take a group photo with the Huxtable (Cosby Show) family, who materialized from nowhere. The end.
Touched By An Angel? (December 2, 2014)
AGAIN at the 1250. I'm jammin' to "Lights" by Ellie Goulding. I then sit with my grandma (who's dead IRL), and the two of us jam to "Dip It Low" by Christina Millan. When I fail to properly sing along, I instead grab my grandma's hands and we jam together to a song I'm sure she never heard IRL—at least until I find raw steak left sitting out indefinitely. This dream wasn't so much odd as it was....happy. She was ravaged by Alzheimer's at the end of her life, and it was good to "see" her healthy again.
The odd came afterward. Sometimes—and maybe you experience this, too—my mind wakes up before my body does. I am alert, but unable to move right away. This morning marked such an occasion, and I swear I felt another person leaning over me. At one point I even felt their finger along my torso! Here I am, paralyzed, with what I'm certain is some being in my personal space. I can't shout properly due to the paralysis—only capable of whisper-yodels.
Finally I'm able to jerk myself awake—no one else is present. I've never believed in specters, but given the nature of my vision and the realism of the aftermath...I might be open to the possibility now.
What's Next, Time-Outs To Burp The Baby? (December 1, 2014)
For the umpteenth time, I'd like to remind you I DO NOT make any of this up. Every dream posted here is real, accurate to the best of my post-slumber memory.
Tonight, a monkey leads me to our local hospital for no reason I can discern. Yes, an actual monkey. Possibly a chimp.
Adjacent to this hospital is a football field. (On the opposite side is a runway.) The 49ers are playing, but the game has to be delayed because the kids of one of the players are leaning against the hospital wall and nearly get trampled by wayward players. All I remember from the game is a long rushing touchdown. Maybe the monkey could have run the guy down.