I Had the Weirdest Dream

I know stories that start out that way are usually followed by some grandiose, ricockulous story but I really did have the weirdest dream. So weird in fact, that when I woke up from my dream, I was still in my dream because B was not in the room with me and then when I finally woke up from that dream, I walked downstairs at 2am just to make sure I was not still in the dream.

I didnt have any unusual items to eat last night. I was a bit stressed about an interview I had this afternoon but usually sleep dispels any notion or thought of stress, at least for me. So, the dream. It was very V for Vendetta-esque:

I was hanging out in the library, reading John Steinbeck's Tortilla Flat. All of sudden a black bag is stuck over my head and I'm knocked unconscious. I awake in a small room with cement walls on three sides and then a large 2-way mirror facing me. The celing is cracked and water is slowly dripping on my arm. I'm seated in an uncomfortable metal chair with my hands bound behind me. Across from me is a man who looks like Christopher Walken with a Tom Hanks-in- the-DaVinci-Code hairstyle. He also wears an eyepatch. He walks behind me and cuts the tape off my hands and tells me to place them on the table. From there, he begins to ask me a series of questions. For some reason, despite my kidnapping and what appears to be a rather precarious situation, I'm a smart ass. He asks what do I love the most in this life? I respond, "Red Velvet Cake." He then asks some more questions which are designed to tear me apart psychologically. I can't recall the questions but I remember them being the kinds of questions in movies where the one being questioned begins to tear out their hair, sweat profusely, demand to be released and then is reduced to a shell of the person they once were, a crying, sad, soiled mess in the corner.

But I dont turn into that person. I continue with smartass comments but begin to get angry. Pissed. Violently angry. Maybe it is working. I throw a chair and pound my fists on the table. I press my face against the two way mirror and make monkey faces and flick off whoever is behind the mirror. I moon them. All the while, the Christopher Walken look-a-like with the bad haircut never moves from his chair. Finally, tired from my antics, I slump back in the chair and ask for a cigarette. I smoke and Christopher Walken's twin stares at me. Finally, when I'm done, I put the cigarette out in my hand and laugh as I smell the burning flesh. Christopher Walken laughs too. He says he wins. Then the light goes on on the other side of the 2 way mirror and I see three of my friends: KS, CR, JR. Christopher Walken's clone tells me this is all a joke. He works for a company that, for a large fee, kidnaps people and breaks them down psychologically while the paying customer can watch the process. It's weird and sick. I hear KS laughing and she say, "Oh man, when you said Red Velvet Cake, we were all cracking up."

At that moment, I woke up and thought I was in my room. But I looked around and B was not there and this apartment did not look like my apartment. I started to panic and then I really woke up. There was B snoring soundly and the futon was there across from my bed with all the books from the library I had checked out earlier that day.

Oddly enough, I had the good sense to write it down as soon as I woke up the next morning. It was that weird.