The first dream I’ve had (that I recall) in which a Member was featured.
A maniac (unnamed in the dream) was planning to blow up a large stadium (possibly the Roman Collosium) in which a Christian choir was performing. The maniac had a son named Blowero, who was autistic. At least the maniac thought so. Blowero did not actually appear in the dream. But the maniac clearly loved his sin Blowero, and was devastated by his disability.
The maniac thought blowing up the choir would cure Blowero. In fact, he believed that the choir would spontaneously explode, powered by the force of his rage. But “just in case”, he’d planted a truck bomb.
I was some kind of detective trying to figure out what was going on. But I was pretty lousy – I was like some kind of JG Ballard character, a powerless observer. The dream ended before the concert ended. There was no explosion, nor any kind of resolution to the dream.
I did not realize that my subconscious had hijacked a Member’s name til I came across a Blowero post a couple of days later.
Weird.
Maybe you should turn this into a poll, because, um…I dreamed about NoClueBoy. He was blond. That’s all I can recall.
I had a dream where someone was called “Dougie Monty”. In the dream I couldn’t figure out why that name was familiar. I woke up, and the next morning logged onto teh SDMB, saw the name and went, “Huh!”
I dreamt the other night that I had been kidnapped and secreted to a location on a tropical island. I kept getting these missives in plain manilla envelopes and the only writing on the front was ‘Ethilrist’ in a cursive hand written in sharpie marker. They were blueprints to a submarine that was going to be hijacked and blown up. I think I was a spy of some sort.
Strange indeed.
Ooh, ooh… can I be the Best Vulcan at the wedding?
And all this time, I thought people were saying I was artistic.
This is poetically Freudian:
Well, since you volunteered… Go ahead. But please leave your pet s’ehlat at home.
Tars, Kn*ckers, and Carni will be in the party, too.
I can just imagine…
Old man walks in. Usher asks, “Bride or groom?”
Old man, “It should be perfectly obvious I am neither!”
Actually, we would ask, “TNG or TOS?”
Betazed wedding? Why, soitenly!
Uh oh. Better start working out.
You’ll have to do a lot of it to catch up with yoga-practicing, Pilates-starting, exercise bike-pedaling, balance ball-rolling me.
Check thine email, blond youth.
To all the other Dopers:
Yes, we got a room. See ya in about 5 minutes!
That’s a joke, Viva. I can last up to 7.