Dreams.

This week has been characterized for me by a series of extremely vivid dreams. Usually I awake with little or no memory of any dreams. This week I have had a number of dreams that I have remembered. Last night I remembered two dreams, the first with me in the role of a young boy who had joined the Liverpool Football Team. There was distance and distrust from the established stars of the team, but I felt confident in my abilities.

The second dream from last night seemed to be my own brain mocking my tendency for existentialist angst. In the role of a James Bond like spy I attempted to suavely wander through a series of high end back-drops (including the Grand Canal in Venice). As I attempted to flee from mysterious characters, who were going to find me out as a fraud, ridiculous problems would stop this. Traffic stopped me from crossing a street, the welds on a metal ladder would pop open one after the other, my beautiful white tuxedo was constantly being soaked in one way or other. But the entire feeling of the dream, which I think is really the essence of dreaming, was one of a slapstick comedy.

Earlier on in the week was the really good dream. This started off with myself and my friend Dade needing to get back to his apartment in an industrial area because I had left two sandwiches in the oven to warm. I became separated from him in attempting to get there and found myself running to try and get to the apartment, and then up through multiple security doors in a barren and depressing urban setting.
Once in the apartment there was a sudden change in which I was arrested because of mistaken identity, and then at the same time I assumed the persona of Michael Hasselhof within a film. With a large, black guard as my accomplice Hasselhof was transferred to a different section of the jail under the less than watchful eyes of a female guard. Changing into military fatigues he slides down a chute and out into the snow-draped industrial area in which ROTC students are marching. Assuming his best faux military posture he marches past them until he sees a group of school children on a field trip. One of the children sees him, the child who accused him of pedophilia, the child gives a wicked smile and goes to tell the teacher something. The dream ends with The Hoff desperately scrambling over the remains of a decrepit shed, fleeing in horror from the child.