Well not really. I just wanted to post last night’s weird dream.
Most of the detail (and probably much of the interesting stuff) is lost in the hours since I remembered it this morning.
So I’m at a party and I’m feeling good because I have a new shirt. First to arrive are Sylvester Stalone and Arnold Schwarzenegger. They immediately start playfighting. Shortly after; Jamiriquai (sp?) turns up and joins in the playfighting. He’s a bit overactive about it though so Arnie and Sly have trouble keeping it from getting ‘serious’ (you know how playfighting can sometimes get out of control and turn into real fighting) but they manage. At this point I feel left out and ignored (I am a fellow celeb in the dream). Within minutes a few more celebs turn up, including Sam L Jackson. He actually acknowledges me and greets me as a fellow celeb.
Soon the party is in full swing. Everything is going like normal until someone (in the dream he takes the appearance of one of the people where I work, who strikes me IRL as the slightly annoying prankster type) squirts ketchup at me. Annoyed that this is a NEW SHIRT! I squirt some back. He does something which causes everyone in the room to get squirted (He probably caused the bottle to explode or something). I grab a bottle and squirt loads of it onto him. The resulting mess on the floor causes him to fall over and there is soon a fight going on on the ground, with plenty of ketchup involved.
After the fighting the original squirter escapes into the woods near the nightclub. Some British firemen are chasing him for some reason. Two of the cast of Rescue Me (dressed as NY firemen of course) follow behind, but they can’t run nearly as fast as the real firemen. I decide to follow also (not running though). As I step out into the open I immediately notice that it’s pouring with rain. I decide to go anyway, figuring that the rain will rinse a lot of the ketchup off me. The rain is exhilarating. (I detest rain IRL)
After walking a short distance into the woods I spot the original squirter strolling casually out, handcuffed to another person covered in ketchup. I decide to forget them and see where all those firemen ended up. Walking in further I meet two young girls going the opposite way. They stop me. One of them asks
“Can I have your shirt?”
“No” I reply. (It’s a new shirt and it can easily be washed)
“Can I wear your shirt?” she persists.
Figuring this is basically the same question I repeat “No”.
“Can I put chickens in it?”
Still not wanting to relinquish possession of my shirt to this girl I say no a third time. (it would be far too big anyway, I had assumed she wanted it as an apron for art class [common at my old school to use an old oversized shirt])
She says “It’s soaked. Why did you come out if it’s raining?”
“It was covered in ketchup. I wanted the rain to rinse it off”
“But you got wet and it’s still stained”
“Meh, better some red stains and a wet shirt than a dry shirt covered in sticky goo”
That’s all I remember of that dream.
the doctor is now out!