Some people keep dream journals because their dreams are just too beautiful to forget. Or they like to analyse their dreams afterwards and learn more about themselves. The thing is, if I should ever try to analyse my dreams, the only thing I could learn from myself is that I’m weird and have serious issues, possibly. Which is something I already know.
I’m also scared that if someone else were to analyse my dreams, they’d analyse that I should buy myself a one-way ticket to the nearest mental ward.
To prove my point, here are a few examples of things I dream about.
Green fingers? More like green armpits
This was a dream I had quite recently, and it really freaked me out.
Here I am, casually checking my armpit to see if I have to shave again. You know, as you do. But instead of seeing a stubble, I notice that my armpit has sprouted GIANT BULBS WITH PLANTS GROWING OUT OF THEM.
Woke me up pretty quickly.
I actually dream this up quite often. I’ll have arranged to meet up with friends, or plan to go into the city with mom, and for some reason, I think it’s a great idea to bring my cat along. Not on a leash, not in a carriable cage, just keeping the cat in my arms for hours on end.
Of course, eventually, I lose the cat. And instead of going shopping or doing whatever it is we’d planned to do, we end up looking for my cat for hours.
Riveting tale, time and time again.
Is this a metaphor for something or something?
This one time, I dreamt that I was charging my phone.
Travelling? No way
This is also a recurring dream of mine. I’ll dream that I’ll have travelled somewhere random, and we’re just walking around and all of a sudden I think to myself, “Wait a minute, I have anxiety! I CAN’T TRAVEL.” And then I turn into a ball of anxiety and try to return home as quickly as possible. I can’t even enjoy travelling in my dreams. Always the logical one.
Quite recently, I had a very interesting night, because my dream-self decided that it would be a good idea to make out with Shaggy from Scooby Doo.
He says “zoinks” after you kiss him.
Pretty in pink
The world had been taken over by aliens. These aliens just happened to all look like blonde bimbos in hot pink tracksuits. Their way of killing was to simply open their mouths really wide and inhale you. And they also stared at you a lot. There were all these aliens in hot pink tracksuits on my lawn, and we live in a house with a lot of windows so you can kind of look inside from the back. And all these aliens were standing by the windows, looking inside, STARING AT ME WHENEVER I WENT. Like O.O
I quickly woke myself up (because I can do that sometimes) and swore to myself I would never watch another episode of Doctor Who. But who am I kidding, of course I’ll continue watching.
And now, my pièce de résistance…
Benedict Cumberbatch, the weresmurf
Look, guys… I don’t even know, okay? One second, Benedict and I were just casually hanging out, the next, people want to kill him. Everyone’s shooting at him and we’re running away together and all of a sudden, Benedict falls down onto his knees and starts convulsing. Then he starts to CHANGE INTO A SMURF. It would be hilarious to see him turn into a blueberry if he wasn’t in so much pain. And there I am, yelling at him the way Sirius Black did with Remus Lupin, “THIS ISN’T WHO YOU ARE, BENEDICT. FIGHT IT.” Yelling at him to stop him from TURNING INTO A DAMN SMURF.
This one definitely tops the cake.
So, what do you guys think? Am I ripe for the mental ward?
What’s the weirdest dream you’ve had?