After a long dry spell, here are some more truly bizarro dreams from yours truly.
This dream started out with me watching B-grade horror movies from the '80s on VHS. Donald Trump appeared in the first movie, playing himself. He chastised a female character for finding religion, then he began monologuing to himself, ruminating on how he once tried putting faith into a higher power before he decided to put faith in himself.
Then gears shifted and the second movie was on. A small group of wealthy, spoiled, effete teenagers/early twenty-somethings decided to hold a seance in the last house remaining from an old, decaying neighbourhood that was otherwise completely bulldozed over and replaced with brand-spanking new houses built for the rich decades before. Assembling at a table in a room located at the centre of the dark, decrepit building, they used florescent ink and florescent gas (whatever that it) as conjuring substances to call forth one of the house’s spirit. Quite suddenly a short, squat woman with short, tangled red hair, wild eyes, and an unnaturally wide mouth materialized on the table. Scared shitless, they all bolted from the room; some got lost in the old house, but most managed to get out and to safety. I don’t know what became of those trapped with the spirit.
The dream realigned, and no longer was I watching any movies. Now I was in some sterile classroom, where a social worker gave me a list of addresses to outfits which could help me find a job. I tried copying some of the addresses down on a piece of paper, but for some reason I was having trouble concentrating and couldn’t do it.
In a flash, I was then on the back porch of my house. I was there with the social worker, and she was trying to talk to my inner spirit, which looked like a human-shaped bundle of dead leaves dressed in a blue vest (the very one I’m wearing as I type this, in fact). When I told the social worker her presence wasn’t helping, that my inner spirit wouldn’t emerge with her standing around acting all domineering, she left. Then my inner spirit took on its true form; it looked like a dirty Avery Brooks. My inner spirit began lamenting on how it – and by extension, myself – should’ve married and had children by now.
The dreams abruptly ended there.