Sunday, February 10, 2008

Only In My Dreams

So guess what happened lastnight:

I’m at the beach at some sort of convention hall where you’re supposed to pay to stay—but I didn’t have to pay, I was in some kind of a performance piece being held there. A bunch of people from my past, that I didn’t really like or even know all that well, were there and saw the show—which was great, because nobody was going to see it otherwise.

Then they morphed into a convention of people that I assumed were retarded, but when I asked, “Are they retarded?” I was told “No, they’re not retarded, they’re actually very intelligent.” To which I said, “Intelligent? Or just intelligent for retarded people?”

Then one of the intelligent, but retarded people——invited me on a walk down the beach, to one of the shopping districts on the other end. I went with her—but suddenly she was driving a cart. I thought she wanted to walk—like, to get some exercise, because she’s overweight and she told me she’s from the desert (Arizona?) where they don’t do much walking.

We carted it down to the shopping district where a Chef who I’m distantly related to, and other distantly related relatives are preparing a meal. The Chef (he’s a renowned Chef) has caught two large (supersize!) Octopi. He’s about to put them in the steaming pot to cook them. He grabs one octopus by the tentacles and tosses it inside. Its head is as big as a basketball.

The second octopus escapes, and squishes up its body to slither (wow!) under the first door. It's funny to see because the thing is actually running on all eight tentacles, as if they were legs. I’m told to follow it, ostensibly to catch it, but in fact I find it at the final door to this restaurant, and it’s stuck because it’s a glass door that goes all the way to the floor. I open the door to purposely free it. It escapes, and rushes toward the ocean, although now it looks sort of like a crocodile. Maybe just because it’s such a big fucking octopus.

It makes it to the ocean alive, and I go back to the table where the Chef and others (me included) finish eating the tentacles of the other cooked octopus. They lament the loss of the other octopus, but don’t question me about how it escaped, or even if I helped it live. We want to eat more octopus, but there is no more—and in fact we only eat the tentacles, we don’t actually eat the body of the cooked octopus. Someone at the table tells me that we’re donating the rest of the “carcass” to a poor local family.

This all took place in my subconscious, but what does it mean? How did I connect freeing octopi with intelligent retards? Can anyone interpret? To shed some light on your dreams, or to contribute your own subconscious adventures, try going to the world dream bank.


caspian said...

Theres always an Ursula joke waiting to happen!

Dame Daxx said...

A retarded fat octopus chef who think's he's intelligent.

Sounds like you had a dance with Gordon Ramsey at Splash.

JP FREEMAN said...

water, in dreams, is typical of rebirth, a new thought process or belief system. Your freeing a creature of water probably means that you want to free something that you are not positive you should believe in--you've consumed part of it, but you're content with wondering what that new belief could have been like while still ascribing yourself to the old. The fact that you're related to the chef, means that you're content with believing in something that you're not 100% committed to. The fat person who doesn't want to exercise only reinforces this.

P.S., I'm eating Fritos right now.

Anonymous said...

You had dinner late and it was pepperoni pizza.

pat said...

lol... people like you make me wish I still blogged...
Rock on dude