Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Did I Tell You About the Time That Brian Jones Shot Me In The Face 5 Times?(AKA Dream Journal Entry 245367898657 AKA Happy Birthday to Me)

So, I'm 42 now, and my dream world ended my birthday with a bang(literally).

  The dream started out with me sitting in this very swanky office waiting room, and there was a guy in a shiny suit rocking back and forth in is chair, having a very LOUD conversation on his bluetooth about "Adventure Time"(a  little aside, I LOVES me some Adventure Time, I think there's a post in the future about it). I must have not been hiding my displeasure at hearing his conversation, because he looked over at me, reached into his pocket, and threw me me a small plastic device.

  I turned it over in my hand and saw a large button in the center labeled MUTE. I pointed the device at him and pressed the button...Voila! I did not hear his conversation anymore. He smiled and gave me the thumbs up.

  Scene change to me sitting in some club, and chatting with some folks, having a grand old time. Suddenly, I notice that Brian Jones(of the Rolling Stones) is standing in front of me, talking to a guy in one of those oversized pimp hats. Brian was wearing one of those coats that kinda looks like fur, kinda looks like feathers...You know the kind I'm talking about. Anyway, he looks over at me and smiles. I smile back. I don't think anything of the fact that he died 40 something years ago.

  Then, he pulls out this very tiny gun and proceeds to fire it at me repeatedly, hitting me in the face 5 times, and then hitting me in the ass another five times as I scrambled to get away. As I scrambled, I realized that there was nobody around me anymore, which was good, as nobody else was hit by the very small bullets being fired out of the very small gun by the Rolling Stones' Brian Jones.

  I ended up being shot 5 times in the cheek on m y face, and 5 times in my butt cheek. I decided I needed to find a bathroom, so I could assess the damage to my beautiful, beautiful face.

  I walked around a corner, and I entered what looked like a large kitchen, but a home kitchen, not a commercial kitchen. It had a very sterile, almost hospital feel, and was sorta washed out by blueish white lights. There was a line of people, and I could tell that was the line for the bathroom. All the people in line were young and sexy, or all the things I am not, and I could feel them silently mocking me. The people directly in front of me in line turned to look at me in disdain, and this is when I fixed them with a stare, and spit the five bullets that were apparently rattling around my mouth into my hand. I could tell they were duly impressed, and I knew that my status in the bathroom line had changed forever.

 Cut to My Special Lady and I standing outside our car, and she inspecting my face, telling me I should go to the doctor. I said that was my plan for the day. I climbed in the car and drove away.

 Then, I woke up.

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