This is not one of those dreams. Promise.
When I sleep, my mind goes on completely insane adventures. Things that make no sense, and should NEVER make sense happen. Well, I'll let you be the judge.
It all started when I read this, and I discovered that one of my heroes, Curly, had an incredibly depressing and short life. I guess it was bouncing around in my subconscious, because that night this was my dream:
I decided to travel back in time to warn Curly about his impending strokes, and to lead him back to a path that did not include alcoholism and trans-fats. I met up with the Stooges in a bar (natch), and then tried talking to Curly. WELL, he was a total dick. I mean awful. Making comments about me being "a broad", telling me to fuck off, laughing at me, etc. Needless to say I was really hurt, because I fucking love Curly. I left the bar to discover that I was well and truly stuck in the 1930s, with no money, and no life skills (this is an ongoing problem...ooo, meta!) so I wandered around a dark and rainy New York City for a while. That was cool.
Adorable...? Not in my dream! |
This is where I meet the man of my dreams... Ed Begley Jr.
No caption needed. |
When suddenly it dawns on me...Ed Begley Jr. is mine and Curly's love child. Oh god.
I take him to the same bar where I met his father on a dark and rainy night in 1930s NYC, and I explain that we can't be together because I'm his mom.
He takes the news well...so well in fact, that he insists we should keep dating. I refuse, 'cause, well, NO ME GUSTA INCEST. Things seem like they're about to fall apart, when suddenly good ol' Ed points out that time travel negates the dangers/horrible moral issues of dating your own son. "Oh yea!" I say, "I forgot!"
And we lived happily ever after.
...
When I woke up, I had to stop and reflect on how fucking insane the dream I just had was. I mean, that is a very messed up thought process creating all those ideas. I was a little worried, but then I remembered that the dream where I was Lance Henriksen and glowed in the dark was much weirder, and I was, once again, content*.
*this is not a joke. If you're good, one day I might tell you.
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