Crazy Ass Dream: Bridge Talk

This dream began with me interviewing Kristen Stewart for some magazine in an empty parking lot at about three in the morning. She was being her usual awkward self. When we were done, I walked K-Stew to some building where this wild celebrity party was taking place (I spotted big wigs like Travolta and Nicholson through the window). Before she went in, I attempted to give her some career advice. I can’t remember if I told her not to make stupid movies like Travolta’s Staying Alive or if I told her to follow her heart and make any kind of movie she wanted, but I do remember her not really seeming to give a crap what I was saying.

Kristen went into the party and I walked back to the parking lot. There, my father picked me up in his car and started driving me home. We got caught in some pretty heinous traffic under a really old bridge. Attempting to make conversation, I asked the approximate age of the bridge.

“They say this bridge was built by orientals,” my dad replied.

“What?”

“This bridge, it was built by orientals, supposedly.”

“How the fuck is that supposed to tell me how old it is?”

My father shrugged and said nothing else. About a minute later, I woke up.

Crazy Ass Dream: Talking “Lost In Space” Tattoos

This latest vision featured a hilarious trend in which my friends and I all got ourselves talking “Lost In Space” tattoos. When I say they “talked,” I mean you just had to press down on the tattoo itself and a sound clip from the show would briefly play (I guess the tattoo artist implanted speakers under our skin?). This gut-busting concept was made all the more hilarious when it was discovered my Robbie the Robot tat spoke for a full three minutes once you pressed down on it. We spent hours, apparently, slapping my arm and listening to this thing go off. It just got funnier and funnier in the dream, and I’m actually smiling about it now.

Later, Rip Taylor stopped by and bought a Superman shirt from me for $100. That was a pretty sweet deal. I don’t think he noticed my awesome and loud ink.

Crazy Ass Dream: Fake Founding Fathers

Last night, in one of the funnier dreams I’ve had lately, my friends and I were reenacting the signing of the Declaration of Independence. We weren’t doing it on a stage or in a park or anything like that; in fact, I’m fairly certain it was taking place in someone’s kitchen. Still, for some reason, we were trying to maintain an atmosphere of professionalism and dignity. I don’t remember which founding father I was playing, but my costume was very authentic and I made sure to speak in ye olde English.

So my friends and I were trading dialogue about the King of England and taxation without representation and all that bullshit when our pal Jim Rumpf suddenly blew into the room with the force of twelve hurricanes. Jim was dressed as Ben Franklin and seated in the most ridiculous-looking wicker wheelchair you can imagine. If this isn’t immediately hilarious to you, picture a guy who looks like a John Travolta stunt double (or just John Travolta) dressed as Ben Franklin and sitting in a giant garish wicker chair from your grandma’s house…only he’s attached wheels to it, and he’s riding it faster than Dale Earnhardt.

Anyway, Jim zoomed up to the table we were standing around at approximately 90 miles an hour, lost control of the chair, and tipped the thing over sideways. From this position (and with a look of steely passion and love for his country) Jim offered up some famous Ben Franklin block quote about life, liberty, and throwing tea into a harbor.

Naturally, we all started cracking up pretty bad and breaking character, which we didn’t want to do for some reason. Were we filming this shit for the History Channel? I have no idea. No damn idea.

Later in this same vision, I got into a fight with my dad about who the funniest member of our family is, which lead to the amazing quote, “My toenails are funnier than all you people.” Then I wandered the highway system in some major city with my friend Ben Ditzler.

Somewhere along the line, there was a large body of water.

Crazy Ass Dream: My Uncle Rules

So I’m sitting at an outdoor bistro of some sort with Drew Barrymore and a couple other people when, all of a sudden, Adrian Brody walks up in a long blond wig. He’s speaking in an obviously fake Swedish accent and presents Drew with a big plate of guacamole. Before Drew could react, Justin Long walks up with the largest bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen in my life. Justin grabs Drew and they start kissing; for the sake of comfort, Justin rests his butt on the table, inadvertently crushing Adrian Brody’s guacamole plate.

Tensions were rising, it seemed like a fight might break out, and then, from out of fucking nowhere, my Uncle pops up behind Justin and Drew and begins singing “Sunshine Superman” with alternate lyrics. The first line he sang was, “Hap-pily MARRIED, ya da da…” as if to say, “I don’t have to worry about this kind of drama because I’m happily married. I nearly shit my pants it was so funny.

My Uncle then took everyone on a bus tour of a nearby celebrity neighborhood. He sang the entire time, and it was awesome.

Another aspect of this dream involved me filling in as director for a high school play of some sort. All these kids kept calling me on my cell phone with questions about costumes and scenery and I just had no idea what the hell to tell them. I was more concerned with what would happen at the end of the play. Was I supposed to go out on stage and take credit for directing the whole thing? I really hadn’t done shit. I was quite the moral dilemma.

Crazy Ass Dream: Jolly Rancher Ozzy

In my most recent vision, Ozzy Osbourne, as an April Fool’s joke, decided to announce a new flavor of Jolly Rancher entitled “Symptom of the Universe,” after the song he wrote of the same name with Black Sabbath. I’m not sure what set these specific “Symptom” candies apart from regular Jolly Ranchers, but Ozzy seemed to be endlessly delighted that he’d be pissing off his core fan base (in this dream, I was his personal assistant or golf buddy or some type of person who regularly hung out with Ozzy).

Sure enough, headbangers the world over were incensed when they learned Ozzy had sold his soul to Jolly Rancher. If I didn’t make it clear before, Ozzy was working in conjunction with the Jolly Rancher people to develop a new flavor based on his evil persona. It’s not like Ozzy just threw together his own version of the hard candy and put it out himself. He’s not that crazy. Anyway, thirteen year olds in black shirts were buggin’ out and burning Ozzy records on the news. The Prince of Darkness just laughed. Then I woke up.

Crazy Ass Dream: Ernest Plays Ball

In the vision that besieged me last night, Jim Varney (he of Ernest fame) had a secret past as an ace major league pitcher under the name “McGregor” for the Oakland A’s. This was revealed to me by none other than Tony LaRussa during a private moment in the A’s dugout (I was there to see the baseball jersey that held the Guinness World Record for longest name on the back). For some reason, it was entrusted to me to tell Jim Varney’s long-lost son, who was actually the kid from “Two And A Half Men.”

I get to “Two And A Half Men” kid’s house and briefly talk to him through my car window on his front lawn. It turns out he’s my second cousin, which in turn means I’m somehow related to Jim Varney. We never did figure out why Ernest kept his pitching history secret nor why he chose the pseudonym “McGregor.” It should be noted that in this version of reality, Jim Varney’s coke-related death is a closely guarded secret.

It should also be noted this entire sequence was preceded by a segment where I was trapped in a pool house with Arnold Schwarzenegger (in Terminator garb) as he fended off various evil doers and bad guys.

Crazy Ass Dream: Don Rickles Was In Star Wars?

He was in this dream I had. Witness:

My friend John Piacquadio wanted to make some gonzo documentary about homeless people, but every time he found some to talk to they freaked out and tried to fight him. He called upon me for help; apparently, I’m some great homeless negotiator. We got into an SUV with his mother and started driving around our hometown in Connecticut. Unfortunately, I became totally preoccupied with a newly discovered version of Star Wars – one that predated the original 1977 release – which was showing on a giant drive-in movie theater screen next to some soccer field we parked near (the field was also adjacent to secret homeless ceremonial grounds).

The version of Star Wars in my dream was an entirely different movie. Same characters, same premise, I think, but completely different. It looked like it was filmed with a television camera. The opening scene saw Darth Vader chasing Luke Skywalker through the Death Star Three Stooges-style, firing an insane amount of lasers that Luke somehow avoided. There was one long shot from the perspective of looking over Luke’s shoulder in which Vader, obviously just trying to fuck with Luke’s mind, starts walking like George Jefferson. This shot seemed to go on forever. It was at least three minutes long.

The action then cut to the Death Star galley (which was more or less just some person’s kitchen from the 1970s). Don Rickles was there, cutting up, when someone suddenly threw a bowl of pudding at him. After a long take to the camera, Rickles retaliated and a food fight broke out. Around this time, someone walked past me and commented on how surprising it was that none of this made the final cut. That’s saying a mouthful.

I don’t think much happened with the homeless documentary after that. John and I watched a group of them standing in a shallow swimming pool for a while, and then I woke up. It should come as no surprise that the events of this dream left me curiously aroused.

Crazy Ass Dream: Obama At Applebee’s

I was at Applebee’s having dinner with Pamela Anderson and Barack Obama. As usual, the service was terrible. While waiting for our server, Barack Obama suddenly grew a patch of moderately sized dreadlocks and his shirt/tie combo transformed into a Florida Panthers football jersey. Then blood started gushing from the top of his head. I guess sudden dread growth can be dangerous.

Pamela started freaking out and telling Barack he needed medical attention. The Senator refused, instead stumbling over to a family of five and sitting down to eat with them. The funny part was this family had an infant with them in a high chair next to their table, and Obama just picked the high chair up and moved the kid over like it was old furniture. He didn’t even look at the baby. The child, of course, starting crying, but nobody really gave a shit. I mean, Obama, bleeding and with dreadlocks. In Applebee’s.

After Obama left our table, Ted Allen from “Queer Eye For The Straight Guy” showed up with a bunch of “Sesame Street” t-shirts he was trying to sell. I was slightly interested, but Ted was acting like he was filming an infomercial or something, just talking real phony-like, and that turned me off.

Crazy Ass Dream: E.T. Aykroyd

Dig this nutty vision: I went to see what I’m guessing was some kind of cult movie – numerous members of the audience were in costume. They all looked to be wearing Sherlock Holmes/Jack the Ripper garb. I don’t remember what the movie was, but I do know they showed a set of trailers both before and after the film. In the latter set, there was an ad for the re-release of some non-existent Dan Aykroyd movie in which the lovable comedian plays a private investigator whose twin brother accidentally turns him into E.T.

Literally: Aykroyd 1 & 2 are on top of a train going full speed, they jump off, Aykroyd 2 (who has blonde hair like Dan’s character in Neighbors) pushes Aykroyd 1, there’s some big messy ecto-plasmic explosion, and the next thing we see is E.T. in Aykroyd 1’s place. Debra Winger plays the woman who falls for E.T. Aykroyd. I remember feeling let down about this trailer in my dream, because it looked like the special effects had been updated a la the Star Wars Special Editions.

Cut to the parking lot outside the theater. I’m wandering around. Suddenly it becomes apparent that we’re at some kind of early eighties California punk hangout. A young Henry Rollins is sitting at a bench going off about the usual kind of crap he’d go off about. I focus my attention on Steve “Stevo” Jensen, the original lead singer of the Vandals. He seems a bit lost and depressed. He makes me promise him I won’t ruin the Vandals by letting them go on without him (which, in real life, they did). I’m a little weirded out, so I leave.

The last part of this dream involved a thrift shop, but I can barely remember what went on.

Crazy Ass Dream: Nirvana Kiddie Concert

This is one of those dreams that made me want to bust out laughing the minute I woke up. I attended a Nirvana concert around the time of In Utero. The large number of children in the audience signaled to me that America’s grunge icons had finally sold out. Before the band started playing, someone in a giant Bill Clinton costume walked onstage (he kind of looked like Mr. Met – normal body, giant head). All the children jumped up and started hugging fake Bill Clinton. They were all squeezing him really tight, liked they loved him more than anything in the world.

Nirvana started rocking out and I noticed Dave Grohl was on a platform in the middle of the crowd with various pieces of eastern percussion. He made grand gestures as he played these instruments. Onstage behind the regular drum kit was some hoser with curly hair and a red bandana. He looked like the guy from Loverboy.

The funniest part of this dream was the moment Dana Carvey ran out between Kurt Cobain and Krist Noveselic and started making stupid faces. He was pulling his hair up into devil horns and sticking his tongue out, and the real funny part is Kurt and Krist were loving it. They were busting a gut watching Dana Carvey interrupt their concert with his patented brand of stupidity.

There was some kind of subplot in this dream about going to a steakhouse with a bunch of people from one of those “We’re so rich, dig our life” reality shows, but I can’t quite remember the details.