Dream #513 (October 31, 2013) Sufjan and Santa

This one almost makes sense, right?

Sufjan Stevens was holding a Midnight Christmas Extravaganza in the middle of a lightly snow-covered gravel church parking lot in Indiana.  I was working the event; I helped set up the large red, white, and green stage, the speakers, the various decorations, and microphones.  After a lot of hard work (too boring to write down here), the show was ready.

About two hundred people showed up on the cold night and sat down with their hot chocolates and watched the show, while I watched from side and backstage.  Sufjan put on an excellent show, performing in several costumes including the following: teddy bear, Christmas frog, elf, tree, snowshoe.

During the finale, a bunch of people with paper-mache reindeer heads (8 in all) jumped on stage and dance alongside jolly old Sufjan.  At that moment, I noticed that Santa had not made an appearance during the entire show and, for some reason, that upset me very much.  I dashed to the trunk of my car, pulled out my Santa suit, and hopped onstage and joined in the fun.  I did some amazing acrobatic dance moves, and even climbed to the top of the trussing, swing across the stage, and slid down the heavily decorated Christmas tree.  It was awesome, and the audience let me know it.

After the show, the crew set up a long dining table and a large Christmas turkey, as well as all kinds of other tasty foods, were brought out for Sufjan and his gang.  I was getting ready to leave, but Sufjan grabbed me and placed me in the seat of honor right next to his.  I dined with him and had a merry time indeed.

At the end of the meal, he asked me if I would join his troupe and become his full-time Santa.  Immediately I answered, "Certainly, Sufjan!"  He told me to take the next hour to pack up all of my belongings and to meet him back at his larger-than-life tour bus.

Then I awoke.

Dream #514 (November 18, 2013) Cocaine and the First Lady

Well, well, well


I was walking down a long dirt road surrounded by fields and pine trees.  I wore a sweatsuit and a backpack and was trying to interpret the large map I was carrying.  I walked several mile blocks, unable to find where I was going (though I was never sure where I was actually trying to go).

After a long while, a tractor pulling a hay wagon rode past me.  I didn't think to hop on, but luckily Gia Franke (a former college classmate of mine with whom I haven't spoken for years) stopped the driver, hopped down, and, with enthusiasm, convinced me to join her and a dozen others on a ride to some convention center where the president (not the current president, but a president I created in my head) was supposed to speak later that day.

We rode along the road for a while, and I found myself telling life stories to all the other passengers.

At last we arrived at an enormous warehouse.  Once inside I saw that a sizable crowd had gathered to hear the president's speech.  I wandered off by myself because I was far more interested in exploring the warehouse than in hearing a canned message that I'd probably heard before.  I ended up in a back room where the president was being prepped for his talk.  I saw a woman run up to him and exclaim that his wife had fallen ill suddenly and was lying down in a nearby room.

I continued to explore the warehouse.  I noticed that my left nostril had become irritatingly stuffed up, and I tried, as I walked, to expel the gunk from my nose, but I had no luck.

I finally found a large room in the warehouse in which dozens of brute men were, in an assembly line, unpacking large boxes of cocaine and repackaging the powder into a more manageable size.  For some reason, they left the large garage doors of the room open to the outside.  It was extremely windy, so cocaine clouds filled the room.  I was quickly covered in the stuff.  I, for some reason, was hopeful that it would clear my nasal cavity, but even cocaine couldn't help.

I knew that I should probably leave the room before I got in trouble with the brutes or before they all got caught by the plethora of security guards present in the building due to the presidents presence.  However, before I left, a particularly muscular man forced me to put on a puffy hooded Miami Hurricanes coat (I had one when I was in lower elementary school) and grab a large black trash bag filled with something I would never see in the dream.

I left in a hurry (well, in as much of a hurry as a heavily coated guy carrying a large trash bag can be), and accidentally ended up in the room in which the First Lady was resting (unconscious).  A bunch of the cocaine fell onto her (I had a thick layer on me, and I was constantly creating a cloud wherever I went), and I tried to brush it off, but it only made it worse.

The only thing left for me to do was run.  I didn't leave the bag, for several reasons that made sense to me at the time (I didn't know what was in it, I didn't want to further harm the First Lady, I didn't want to leave my fingerprints behind on something that could've been filled with an illegal substance.

I must have been high, because I had no idea of knowing where I was going, or how to guide myself in certain directions.  I just sprinted.  I, unfortunately, literally ran into the president right as he was walking out to give his speech, knocking him to the floor and covering him in cocaine.  Oops.


Then I awoke.