If my dream is going to be this odd, shouldn't it be Monday?

Okay, as best I can recall,a dream synopsis. Please be aware that most lacunae and non-sensical plot transformations are not the product of my conscious mind reporting this - so no kvetching about things not making sense!
Well, the dream began with a revisit of everyone’s favorite tear-jerker B-grade romance movie: Titanic. Of course, it was focusing on other passengers - you know, the ones who were trapped in sorcerously enscrolled traps that ate their souls while the ship sank. What, you didn’t know about those? Silly person.

Anyways, one of the survivors (She jumped into her dream prison, in spite of wearing her boots inside. I don’t know WHY she wasn’t supposed to be able to jump into the dream prison with her boots on, I think her jailor was Japanese.) ended up in Florida where there’s a somewhat unreported problem going on - it seems that manatees are actually some kind of squid mouthed beasties that live off of lobsters. BTW, for you gourmands, they do NOT eat spiny lobster they’re self-respecting squid mouthed beasties: Maine lobster ONLY.

Anyways, it’s known that manatees aren’t very bright, and so they tend to locate the lobstah then chomp. The problem is that if you’re a homeless bum out lobster diving for the high the manatees can bite you instead. This is a problem for a number of reasons - not least of which those manatee teeth are sharp, and put holes in the poor homeless one’s heads.

At which point Whoopi Goldberg showed up as a brain-damaged (Obviously, I mean how many holes do YOU need in your head before you become brain-damaged, hmm?) lobstah diving street person. She sees this guy, not a regular bum, who’s floating face down in the water, and takes him to the hospital. During the examination she pokes at his head, and her finger goes in one of the holes in his skull. (BTW, you get high off brain juices, did you know that? That’s why lobstah diving is so goood - it makes the brain secrete more of the good stuffs. There was this neato scene where the doctor, and Whoopi were being shown in CATscan vision, where brain activity was obvious. Whoopi had all sorts of funky front lobe action going on. Especially after she licked her finger clean.)

It turns out that lobstah diving is a degerative process, not least of the reasons, of course, being the continued skull perforations from them squid-faced manatees. (Come on, you can claim manatees aren’t squid-faced, but have you ever seen on in person? All you have are those pictures from Greenpeace, and the like, and we all know they’re being controlled by the manatees. Sheesh.) Anyways, Whoopi and her new bud are trying to find a way around this, but not having much luck.

So, of course, the monster truck rally has to come to the hospital to start a fund raiser.

Which is where, as they say, I came in. I was a back-up driver on Dave’s monster truck team. I never really understood WHY I was a back-up driver, but he was paying me to do it. And wear a spiffy uniform, too. Of course the Monster Truck rally was just a front, we were really there to gather film for a documentary about how the lobstah diving street people were being ignored by the medical profession.

Oh, yeah, then the problem was resolved to be not so much lobstah diving, nor even the bad aim of the squid-mouthed manatees, but the mind-controlling, sentient aquatic kudzu. (Are we seeing a Lovecraftian theme?) That was really what was secreting the drugs that the lobstah divers were on. But, they weren’t mean, really, they just were being killed off by the anti-biotics the medical personnnel were giving to the perforated skull type lobstah diving street people, so, instead of being symbiotic, or at least neutrally parasitic, they became fatal parasites, tasking their hosts for more energy - as measured by memory and math capacity (there was this really moving scene reminiscent of Flowers for Algernon where Whoopi is trying to add two digit numbers.) which eventually turned the afflicted into parapelegics - just before they went completely vegetative.

When this was found out, the monster truck rally (Remember that?) fell apart, and Dave (The bastard!) abandoned me in Florida!

Anyways, just before I woke up, me and a few other abandoned sorts were heading back north in a salvaged minivan - on the train tracks, by way of Beijing.

Sheesh, what a nightmare. If I never go back to Florida, or the Caribbean, it will be too soon.