"I've Got Dreams, Dreams to Remember"

Okay, so either all of my good karma was used up when the Astros got their 2nd out in the top of the 9th last night, or Albert Pujols is just a huge asshole.

On another note, anyone who knows me knows that I remember my dreams in great detail. While most of my dreams involve coeds and ever-so-delightful misunderstandings, many of my dreams are just plain weird. The first dream I really remember happened when I was 3 or 4. I was petrified of the Incredible Hulk, so sure enough, I had a dream where my parents go out to dinner and leave me at home alone. I was fine with that, since I was able to lie on the living room floor while smoking my pipe, wearing a fedora, and reading the Houston Chronicle. All was going well until I heard a rustling sound behind the couch. Out of nowhere, what seemed like hundreds of Incredible Hulks of all different shapes and colors come out of nowhere and pounce on me. Let that be a lesson to all those out there who think it's a good idea to read.

Weeks before January 1, 2000, when there was talk of the world ending, I had a dream that Jason "Wee Wee" Whitney, Jamie "Mountie" Belanger, possibly Kevin "Silent" Yeh, and I were at a huge New Years party. Everyone was having a great time. Champagne flutes were in hand as we counted down. When the countdown hit zero, it felt like I got punched in the stomach. Then everything went completely white, and it felt like I was on a huge drop on a roller coaster. All of a sudden, I look around and Wee Wee, Jamie, Yeh, and I are flying through the clouds on our way to heaven. Why, you ask? As Jamie explained, looking at me as we glided toward eternal salvation, "It's because we're good people."

More recently, I had a sweet dream where I was being held hostage in an abandoned factory by these hot chicks. I can only assume I was on the wrong end of a Charlie's Angels dream. Anyway, for some reason, the factory was in downtown LaGrange (Illinois--my hometown, for those who don't know). As I always try to do in dreams where I'm held hostage, I bided my time until the perfect chance to escape. It came when they left me alone for some reason (probably to go to the Starbucks across the street), or so I thought. I loosened my ropes, grabbed a spare gun, and headed out the door, only to come face-to-face with one of my worst nightmares: a hot chick with a revolver pointed at me. I drew my gun and fired some shots her way. Apparently she was quite handy with a revolver, unloading all six shots into my chest. Being a Democrat, I'm not familiar with how to handle a Glock, so while I unloaded my clip, I only landed a couple shots--enough to drop her to the ground, but not enough to kill her. I then ran (yes, ran) down the street to the hospital (which was also located in downtown LaGrange for some reason). People were staring at me, on account of the blood soaking through my shirt, but I wasn't too worried. You know why? As I ran to the hospital with six slugs in my chest, honest to God, I thought to myself, "Well, at least now I have something in common with 50 Cent."

Last night, the trend continued. In my dream, Jessie and I were driving along a tropical, yet mountainous, winding road, not unlike what you might see in Kauai, although I got the distinct impression that this was not Kauai. We were going to some sort of resort town where we planned to make a fresh start (I can only assume we were running from the law after we paid 2 homeless guys to fight to the death). It was peaceful and beautiful, not unlike Kauai. But something wasn't right. As we get into town, we hear this faint conch-like horn sound coming from the mountains, and everyone in the resort town goes inside. Confused, we look up to the mountains to see none other than a ton of Darth fucking Vaders creepin' out of the trees. No kidding. So we head on to the resort hotel (and casino), where apparently everyone in the town lived. Everyone had to go into the basement, which was several levels. When I inquired about the situation, I got a perfectly logical explanation: those Sith bastards would kill anyone above ground, but they were scared shitless to go underground. Hence, everyone hung out in the several underground floors of this luxurious hotel and casino after they heard the conch. It was like a combination of ABC's hit drama "Lost," M. Night Shyamalan's near miss, "The Village," and a bizarro H.G. Wells's "Time Machine." Luckily I woke up before Jessie yelled at me for losing $500 playing blackjack.

I'll keep you all apprised of any future dreams that you might find of interest, which I can only assume is all of them.

Fantasy Update:
-Corn Hole'ers (1976 Tampa Bay Bucs): 2-4 (7th of 8, 3 games back)
-FIC You (Car Ramrod): 1-5 (9th of 10, 4 games back)
-Glenview Gridiron (Angry Pirates): 5-0 (1st of 12, 2 games up)
-League of Extraordinary Gents (Angry Pirates): 3-3 (T 3rd of 10, 1 game back)
-Pigskin 2005 Pick 'Em (Angry Pirates): 5th out of 17 (1st this past week)

While I did win the week in Pick 'Em, leave it to Marc Bulger, the QB on my 5-0 team, to get injured. That's about right. Maybe that's when my good karma ran out. It was nice knowing you all.