Two hours ago I was taking a nap. I dreamed that they were making a new movie in the All Dogs Go To Heaven cast, and that I was one of the voice actors. Burt Reynolds was reprising his role as Charlie, and I was to do the voice of his sidekick, a little chiwawa.
The opening number is a dramatic orchestral song about dogs living a tough life in the city. Charlie’s first line, in a deep, sonorous voice:
“What are you doing?”
Then my line, in response:
“Getting a drink!” In a high-pitched barking voice. (My character was supposed to be drinking from a puddle in an alley or something.)
Then I hear a sound: “Bzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzz.” I think to myself (still in the dream,) “someone in the orchestra must be making a mistake! It sounds like the bass clarinet.”
Then I’m awake, and my cell phone is vibrating on the windowsill above my head.
!
Three days ago, I dreamed I was looking through my closet and I found some old bolt-action rifles. Great, I thought, and started to inspect one of them. I found that it was totally covered in grease and dirt. I took out the bolt and started to take apart the rifle, and realized that the action was jammed with greasy barbecued chicken - tender white meat smeared with orange barbecue sauce. I unscrew the butt-plate, and inside the stock of the rifle is a gigantic piece of white-meat chicken, filling the space completely. I woke up wanting to puke.
Weird. Every time I have dreams, they’re like this.
Last night, I was nekkid and on the steps at a big museum in a Big City, trying to hide, or at least find clothes. All kinds of fully formed Dream people are passing by, I ask for help, and they laugh. One guy in a raincoat passes by, I ask him for it (it’s all clear and not raining), he says: “It might rain”
So then this odd guy I knew back in high school shows up. Weird, because he was an innocous guy, not a weirdo, nice enough, but here he is decades later, in the dream brainpan, and he starts accosting me. Except that I am not me, but Pam Anderson (note: I had to search, uhhh… Pam Baywatch to get the last name) So, I’m Pam Baywatch, and this odd guy from highschool is kissing me, and it’s awful. Have to heave him off. Then, I’m Pam Baywatch, nekkid and scared, there on the steps of what prolly is the Museum of Natural History in NYC. My mind woke my ass up after alla that.
When I wake up in the morning and say “I can sleep for 30 more minutes” and turn over and snooze for a bit longer.
When I take a catnap during the day/evening.
I wish I could give you examples, but they’re the kind of dreams that I wake up going “How bizarre was that?!” and then 10 minutes later forget why it was bizarre.
The dreams I have when I’m sleeping normally are few and far between, but when I have them they’re usually epic in scale and production value. Although they still don’t make much sense.