Larry King (morphing occasionally into Michael Douglas) and Cybil Shepherd were in the middle of an illicit affair involving drugs, money and lots of flying bullets. While trying to decide which car to escape in, they forgo several speedy, expensive cars and choose a crusty 70’s sedan.
Somewhere along the way it turned into underwater ballet. I woke up thoroughly bored. I actually bored myself awake. I need to get laid.
Flesh-eating zombie monkies that had a vaguely human look. Seriously. I don’t want to talk about it. Musta been the Scharfen Berger chocolate I ate late in the evening.
I dreamt I poured a cuppa coffee and thought it looked a little weak, so I opened the top of the coffee maker and thought ‘Of course, one of the roast chickens fell over, the hot water missed it.’
There were, clearly, three roast chicken. The one that had fallen over still had the neck and head attached.
Weird dreams? Oh shit. I think I must have missed my Effexor somehow yesterday morning, because I had THREE absolutely vivid manic tail-chasing rat-racing dreams in one night of restful (allbeit slightly twitchy) sleep.
Episode 1. The Python Fest. I am in some huge library somewhere looking at DVDs of Monty Python’s Flying Circus with a whole bunch of happy random nerds coasting around on book carts and stuff. Only instead of the actual several dozen extant episodes, there are THOUSANDS. And nobody can keep track of them all without driving themselves and each other crazy. So the nerds are just zipping around, being crazy nerds.
Episode 2. Beer, Wine, and Junk Food. I am in some building a lot like the library above, only there are just halls and tunnels and pokey catacombs filled with beer and wine in bottles, and nothing to eat and no one to share it all with except a bunch of snotty waiters. I finally have to make my way to a Superdome-like emergency center where there is food, but it’s all junk like Kit Kats and Twinkies, and you have to pull it off a conveyor belt that is very tricky to operate.
Episode 3. The Very Big Game. I have been engaged to play music for a (basketball or hockey) game in a huge arena. As all too frequently happens in real life music gigs, I have not been given any of the necessary information. All the usable bandstands have been taken up by several big college pep bands, so I am there all by myself with a ton of instruments I can’t play and sound gear no one will let me plug in. I just keep dragging it all around, trailing oddments of loose wires and open cases. The crowds mill. The game never starts.
I was woken up this morining by my friends’ 3-year-old son Zack (the world’s cutest kid)… from a dream dealing with how the road signs in Iran changed when the Shah was overthrown. 
In the dream, I was standing next to a modern 4-lane arterial road, whose sides and raised median were all planted with luxurious flowering bushes and shrubs. It was warm and sunny. There was little traffic.
There were banner-like decorative signs on the light poles at the sides of the road. Parts of them had had some text commemmorating the Shah; this had been covered with blank aluminum plates, but just below that a guide symbol for ‘the Royal Road’ was still visible. I knew, however, that the road had just been renamed to ‘Madison Avenue’.
This is about par for my dreams.
I had one of my Godzilla dreams last night (yes, Godzilla shows up in my dreams fairly often–no idea why). This one involved a little Japanese girl trying to find someplace to hide while the big G was rampaging through Tokyo; all the best places where people were going to hide were in underground tunnels or buildings built into rock that couldn’t be crushed even if Godzilla stepped right over them, and I thought: “The next time they rebuild Tokyo, they should build it underground.” It seemed like a very good solution to the recurring giant monster-lizard rampage problem.
Last night I dreamed I was sitting in a room with blach walls on a black couch with a few of my friends. Then, suddenly, my ex-boyfriend ran in, out of breath and tossed us 3 t-shirts. Apparently he had stolen them. I put one on, then I woke up and I was wearing it. I looked at the clock and it said 6 am, but it was sunny. And I was still dreaming. Then I woke up for real, and it was 11 am.
The same dream I’ve had since I was in elementary school:
I’m in a huge empty room like a gymnasium but without the bleachers or basketball goals and such.
In the corner, there’s a tiny chest that looks like a pirate treasure chest. I walk over to it, open it, and find an itty bitty folded napkin-like cloth.
I begin unfolding it…and unfolding it and unfolding it. Finally, I unfold the whole thing and it’s big enough to cover the entire floor. I flap it a few times like you’d do with a picnic blanket to spread it out. It settles on the floor perfectly without any wrinkles or folds.
Then the dream is over.
Last night I dreamed that I was standing in front of an old man and his wife, who represented the Salvation Army, and I was trying to convince them to help me with daycare expenses. As I was trying to explain to them that I wasn’t a crackhead homeless person, like many others in line, that I had a good job and a home but just needed a little assistance, they kept interrupting me and I was getting pissed. I woke up before I got an answer.
Last night I dreamt I was on a fairground gondola ride with a friend of mine. I was anxious, for a few reasons: First, the seatbelt was missing – although my friend was wearing a totally-overkill harness that fixed him firmly in place with numerous belts and straps. The seat was nearly frictionless fibreglass, angled down, and my ass kept sliding towards the edge, forcing me to keep readjusting to avoid falling off the seat onto the pavement, which was maybe a hundred feet below.
Added to this, for some reason I had an assortment of objects with me that I was worried about dropping. I remember that I had a stack of valuable books with me that I’d just bought. I also had an open bottle of beer and several glass spheres. Pages were getting bent, beer was getting spilled, and I seriously worried that the heavy spheres would injure people walking below. Every time I tried to adjust the objects I was holding, my ass started to slip off the seat.
Most distressingly, I really needed to go to the bathroom, and the ride was just a big loop with no opportunity to get off. I was trying to use something like one of these pee-bag dealies without exposing myself too much, losing any of my stuff, or fallng to my death.
Then I woke up and made a trip to the loo. 
I dreamt I was in a large shop with many rooms with those glass cases, full of pastries and cookies. I walked around the whole store and saw many desserts that looked really enticing, including cookies shaped like penguins. There were also cats who lived in the shop, and I pet them along the way.
I started talking to the older woman who worked there about what was in the cookies, and said I wanted to buy some. She got out a coffee cup and asked if I wanted regular or decaf. I explained that I wanted cookies, and she told me she couldn’t sell any of them. She was quite adamant, and a little hostile.
After trying hard to understand why I couldn’t buy anything, I left feeling very frustrated. In fact, I wanted to steal some cookies because, after wanting to buy some and not being able to, I had quite a hankering for cookies.
I was riding as a passenger in a car, and a guy in a unicycle passed us.
No, not a pedal-powered unicycle.
A motorized unicycle. And he was cruising along and the only person in the car who found it odd to see a motorized unicycle on the highway was me.
Last night I dreamed that I went to work, but got bored and decided to go home. When I got to my house, one of the managers I work with was at my house using my computer. I never explained my absence from work to her, and she didn’t ask. I wandered into the bathroom, and on the floor there was a package of “Trannie Panties”–designed to conceal the manly bits and pieces–and they were purple. I woke up laughing at the thought of the Trannie Panties, and didn’t go back to sleep.
And yes, every time I’ve thought of them since I’ve been awake, I still laugh. And get the hiccups. I can’t imagine what put that into my mind!