There is no "i" in "Good Dream"

I had a plan for a blog while in Philadelphia this weekend (or as I like to call it, Chilladelphia). That plan was overridden by my wacked-out dream that I had while sleeping on my brother & sister's couch in Phily (Note: use "&" more often. MUCH easier).

I don't remember exactly how this dream started, I do remember sliding down waterslides with hip-hop artists, but that does not connect in any way to the next set of events (and frankly this may just be a memory. I consort with hip hoppers quite often. Snoop Dawg is a close acquaintance of mine. Do you know that he has tried smoking reefer before? Goodness!). Well anyhow, I initially found myself in a mind game with Soviets. Thats right, the USSR was back on the bloc, and the KBG seemed to hunting me through the city, in their "follow you and look suspicious" sort of way.

I, naturally, lost this mind game and in a series of events that I am not entirely clear on, ended up on a commie train headed to a prison camp (somewhere in America, probably in one of the RED states!! LoLz!). Heres where things get really freaky. All the passengers on the train were emaciated and wearing blue and white stripped prison suits. They basically looked like concentration camp prisoners. They didn't speak for the duration of the trip.

We soon arrived at the camp, and I got up and into the aisle. Before exiting out the door of the train, I put my hand on the shoulder of one of the prisoners and said, "Good luck comrade." I have no freakin' idea what I was thinking. Why on earth would I call a man so severely oppressed by commies "Comrade"? Perhaps this is because I was thinking one day and decided that it would be funny to start calling strangers "comrade" as opposed to my usual "man" or "dude". That would be funny, and I think I will start doing it, but I feel like doing it to an emaciated prison camper oppressed by the reds is a poor place to start.

At any rate, I simply bolted out the door and ran like 20 feet to the right and I had escaped the prison camp. Ya....that was really all I had to do. Nobody cared. All the guards just kinda blankly stared at me while I did it. There wasn't even really any fencing, and the camp was really just a house with a shed. I assume that my subconscious associates sheds with pure evil, as the house next door had no shed and was therefore not part of the prison camp.
I went in this house, and who was in there but my family!

My sister was mad freaked out about the concentration camp next door. I asked if anybody had called the police. Apparently nobody had. All of a sudden it was night time. I guess my mind cannot grasp the concept of dawn & dusk, so there just aren't transitions in my dreams. Anyhow I took out my cell phone & attempted to dial "911". You have no idea how difficult this was. Apparently I'm as much of a skrew-up in my dreams as I am in real life, because I just could not get the number right. I dialed 781, I have no idea why, then 721, 291, 991, 291991 (i forgot to delete the "291" before starting the next attempt), and many other ridiculously stoopid combinations. This was all in real time mind you. I actually dialed out all those numbers and tried to call them, then had to delete and start over. This has a parallel in real life. I am incabable of spelling the word "Tomorrow" without much trial and error, and error...and failure and shame. In fact, I kid you not, just now as i wrote that word in the previous sentence, I messed up about 7 times until the red squigly line beneath it went away. I'm dead serious, as I was typing this, I didn't even mean to but I went through this classic process:
1. tomarro X
2. tommarro X added an "m"
3. tommaro X subtracted "r"
4. tommoro X "o" for "a"
5. tomorro X -"m" +"r"
6. tomarro X tried the first one again. No dice.
7. tomaro X just...no
8. tomoro X its called desperation at this point
9. tommarow X realized the possibility of a "W" in the word.
10. tomarrow X closer...
11. tomorrow YEEEEEAH! SUCK ON THAT BIIIOTCH!

I honestly wish I was kidding, but I legitimately go through some mutation of this formula every time I attempt to spell that word. But c'mon. 911? Seriously? It's spelled the way you say it! Ugh.

So I finally got the number right, and called it. I was met with an answering machine....

...

an answering machine...dialing 911 for my emergency I was met with an answering machine....I considered leaving a message, but then thought, no that's absolutely ridiculous. I decided to call again and try to get through. I had apparently forgotten how difficult this was for me. I went through the whole "try to dial 911 and fail miserably" routine again, and got through this time. This is how that conversation went:
"Hello, what is your emergency?"
"Oh thank God! yes there is a concentration camp next door! Please send help!"
"......is this a joke?"
"...no please! Its being run by the soviets! They're going to kill us all!"
And then she hung up on me. Apparently, even the people that I make up think my dreams are absolutely ridiculous.

I tried this over and over again. The majority of this dream was spent attempting to dial 911, failing, attempting, failing, attempting, failing, succeeding, then meeting with disbelieving dispatchers, at different levels of shocked silence or anger or amusement. The only time I hung up on a dispatcher, rather that the usual them hanging up on me, was when I was met by a very furious, very sassy voice on the other line. One sweet sounding lady on the other line was ready to send the squads to my location, she just wanted to know where I was. As I was unable to answer, I lost my one opportunity. Eventually my family wondered if I would like them to try. I said YES and that was the end of that chapter.

Now something odd happened that had nothing to do with anything. Two really wide-eyed freaky peopleish things appeared at the window by the door and were staring at me and it was pretty unsettling. They kind of hovered over to the door and came in, but I guess my mind didn't know where to go with this, because soon the police came in and nobody paid any attention to the random creatures and we kinda got some closure.

So the cops come, and its randomly day again, and they take us outside and say to us, "Oh no no no, this is no concentration camp! It's merely a friendly little cult full of old jewish men who starve themselves in order to be pious." And all the "prisoners" were out there with their big unblinking eyes just nodding their heads "yes". But I was like, wtf?! "What about the Soviets!? Those guys are commie KGB officers!" I saw shocked expressions on the Russian's faces. One began crying onto the shoulder of another as the other consoled him by patting his back. The police said, "They're just Russians. What!? All Russians are Communists to you!? You just ASSUMED that these men were Reds just because they were Russian!?" I was like...wtf? And suddenly all the fear of this nightmare was gone. My family joined it with the "Mark, you ignorant, insensitive little bastard" and whatnot. I was still just like...wtf?

Anyhow, everything had wound down. The last thing I remember was my father saying to one of the old guys: "Mr. Hammond, I have decided NOT to endorse your park."

I soon awoke, and was really freaked out because it was sort of light outside the front window, to light to be night, to dim to be day. I thought maybe somebody was trying to break in, so I looked out the window only to realize that it was dawn. You know, that time where its too dark to be day but too light to be night. I guess I just really have no concept of such things. And yes, I know how stoopid i am.