Ep. 017 - To Kahlua, My Brother, Whom I Slept With
It’s another double feature, kids. And before I tell the first one it might require a little backstory.
Last Saturday my buddy Jay calls me up to go out drinking, which I never do because nobody ever invites me for shit. (“Boo-hoo, pussy.”) So we go out with a few of his friends that I don’t know, and our group eventually grew from five (including myself) to about 12 from running into some familiar faces while out and about, and it went from his place to the bar to a couple other people’s houses within a few blocks of each other. I had a good time, I challenged my liver by drinking probably more than I ever have before, my introversion that I’m trying to strip, and inadvertently my dreams. Before I arrived home I thought to myself that I hope I don’t dream about tonight, not because I didn’t have a good time but just because I didn’t want realities bleeding together. Whoops, it happened anyway. Although it didn’t so much as bleed realities, I know what was real and what I dreamed but it was interesting that my mind decided to continue the party in my head, and ironically I was the one among the group getting into crazy trouble as opposed to being the straight man that I often am. At any rate, this is the dream I had from that night.
The lot of us were hanging out in this downtown area, not where we went, but a city where a river separated these two streets and the roads/walkways were made of cobblestone. So it took us from New Hampshire to Germany, I guess. We roll up alongside this tent area where there are a couple booths set up like a carnival and I go to the farthest booth and get into a bit of a conflict with this guy who I believe was in SWAT gear. The conflict was less on me and more on my friend Deanna (who I had just bumped into in the dream, but not in real life) who was behind him while I stood at the front bubbling with rage holding a suitcase full of knives. In almost the blink of an eye he’s fallen to the ground from Deanna stabbing him with a butter knife, and I for some reason continue to stab him but there’s no blood. Immediately we bounce and walk down into what seems like a service tunnel that the public can use or a tunnel that leads to a subway platform.
From two different points I see SWAT members standing by and a team headed down the stairs coming after me, leaving no element of surprise. But we dash down the tunnel that leads to some kind of warehouse that has a fenced in area around where the tunnel is. After going through the gate in the fence we somehow manage to evade capture and getting shot. Along with that I hop in a cab and proceed to drive through a set of double doors the lead me inside of a Wal-Mart where I’m just driving around like a jackass. When I reach the front I bail out and let the car go through the front. The cops come inside and arrested these two kids they thought were behind the wheel. And I was ready to walk away before one of his friends came up and said how wrong it was that I was gonna let them take the fall, and said I’d fix it. Then my alarm clock started blasting Mudvayne which got me out of that mess.
This next dream I had just last night and I only remember the last of it but it sticks out like a sore thumb to me. The earliest I can remember is that I was partaking in some kind of “Legends Of The Hidden Temple” game that involved going up and around some multicolored think with pads and slopes and being too lazy to do it. But what’s crazy is the people I was playing against - for the Red Monkeys it was Dave Attell and Carlos Mencia, and for the Green Monkeys it was Doug Stanhope and Sarah Silverman (or Janeane Garofalo.) Who my partner was on the Orange Iguanas I don’t know, they were either passed out or drunk.
So I fucked off out of there and on the street sitting on a stoop I saw a man I believed to be my dad, but for some reason he looked like Idris Elba portraying Bill Cosby which was way fucking weird. After talking to him for a bit I help him up with his cane and lead him inside. Time kinda skips a bit and I now have to convince him to go on stage and do his act that for whatever reason he doesn’t wanna do. And at this moment his cane is sealed inside a box that has a zip tie around it. I wish I could remember the exact dialog, I did this morning but it escapes me now, but the context of it was essentially him not doing the show was using an emotional crutch and that he needs to get off his ass and get shit done. It would be great if I could remember the exact words and phrasing cause it seemed pretty strong.