Dream A Little Dream But Don’t Have Any Fun

My subconscious is such a dick.

I have some recurring dreams. Some are anxiety dreams and some are comforting and some are really fucking weird. Like the pink and black bathroom that shows up all the time. It has a big round black tub and I always forget that I have that tub available to me. There’s always dust in the it.  Or the apartment that Randy and I are always just about to rent. It’s huge and rambling with dirty blue carpet and lofts and has three stories and a labyrinth of rooms. It’s shabby and usually other people have left stuff in it. Like books and clothes and toys.

My anxiety dreams usually involve dark green water. Either huge crashing waves or I become submerged in murky green water.

If I dream about work, it’s always in the same building. A round glass skyscraper with a very large futuristic elevator. I work on the top floor and the floor is under construction. There are clear plastic tarps and exposed beams in my dream office.

Sometimes I dream about the house I grew up in and sometimes I dream about driving at night. When I dream about driving at night, I always end up in the same laundry mat in Covington, Ky. It was a laundry that we went to when I was  kid, and then I used the same laundry mat when Zach was a toddler. My first marriage had fallen apart and I moved temporarily into my grandparent’s house in Covington because they were living in Florida for the Winter. I go back to that laundry in my dreams all the time. No idea why, but I’m usually happy to be there.

One kind of dream that I usually don’t have are sex dreams. I rarely dream about sex. When I do, though, my subconscious fucks it all up.

Anyone who is reading this who also happens to be married to me, you might want to stop want to skip to the end. Or change the names to ‘Randy’. Your call. 

I fell madly in love with Johnny Depp when he was Tommy Hanson on 21 Jump Street. It bugs me that the sequel to the 21 Jump Street movie is called 22 Jump Street. There was no fucking 22 Jump Street. 

Any way, I have known for years that had the circumstances been right and Johnny Depp and I met at a young age, we would have had the Paul Newman/Joanne Woodward relationship of our generation. I almost feel sorry for Johnny that he missed out on it.

Since that didn’t happen, the least I could get would be one steamy dream about Johnny Depp.

It took decades, but it finally happened. It was about a year ago. I finally had my fling with Captain Jack Sparrow.

Then my subconscious stepped in and fucked it all up. Seriously, it was going along just fine. Things were progressing at a pleasing pace and then I realized he was dirty.

Like sticky, gross, germ ridden, stinky dirty. It totally ruined everything. In fact, after having that dream, I’ve lost a little bit of that lovin’ feeling.

Then, just a few weeks ago, it happened again. Only not with Johnny Depp. This one was with Dean Winchester. Not Jensen Ackles. Dean Winchester is hot. Jensen Ackles is just pretty. Kind of like Fox Mulder vs David Duchovny. 

This was was shaky from the start. First, there was a talking pigeon wearing a vest that Dean was talking to. And when we got keys from a desk for our hotel room, the keys looked like really dirty white toddler sized socks.

All that was okay. I could work with that. But then I found out he was a sloppy kisser. I hate sloppy kisses. I hate them in the waking world and I apparently hate them in my dreams. It wasn’t looking good. My subconscious was close to fucking it up, but not yet. It could still be salvaged.

You know that saying, how the size of the wave doesn’t matter, that it’s the motion in the ocean? Well, that is true. Unless we’re talking an itty bitty tiny wave. A ripple sized wave. Then it matters. It turns out Dean Winchester had little wave syndrome.

So that’s two dreams my subconscious fucked up.

Sooner or later, I’m going to get that Norman Reedus dream. If the dream involves Daryl Dixon, then I hope the dream takes place in an idyllic pond with a little water fall because I’m pretty sure Daryl Dixon needs to at least rinse off. If it’s Norman Reedus as Norman Reedus or Murphy McManus, then we’re good where ever.

If my subconscious fucks that one up, then my subconscious and I are going to have to come to an agreement. It backs off my dreams and I won’t go get more talk therapy and take away it’s playground.

Attention Randy: You can start reading again from here. 

I have no idea why my inner brain never wants me to have any fun in my dreams. I mean, maybe it could at least let me take just one bath in that bathtub.

 

68 Thoughts.

  1. I never know exactly where my dreams are set, even though the places are recurring. They’re familiar to my subconscious but not my conscious ( why isn’t that a noun in the same way that subconscious is? )
    Sadly, even my subconscious has lost its libido these days, but if it was functional, it’d be giving Jimmy Smits a good workout…

  2. Man I get the frustration on those illusive sex dreams. Last fall I watched all of Buffy and all I got was one lousy Spike dream that involved a lot of frustrating time travel and not getting off at the end.

  3. I used to have recurring dreams that I found another part of Manhattan after the Battery. Now I dream that I have incredible apartments–uh that look just like one I used to own but sold to leave.

    Too many of my dreams are essentially about real estate!

  4. I would love to have a Norman Reedus dream! As Daryl or himself, but, like yours, my subconscious would probably fuck it up big time.

  5. You crack me up. My dreams involve finding a whole ‘nother hallway in my house, full of bedrooms that are clean and spacious. Or sometimes I find a whole floor of rooms…again, clean and spacious. Yay, I say, we should USE these nice rooms! How could we have not known they were there all along, while we were living in these other cramped messy rooms!?

    Della

  6. The great thing I’ve discovered since I started blogging is that I’m not in fact one of only a few really fucked up weird people in the world. I’m much happier for it.
    That was a compliment, just in case that wasn’t clear.

  7. And when you do start having fun in a dream, that’s the moment you wake up and say “Wait, that wasn’t real? f***!” Funny you dream about the laundry mat to this day. I linked to your Twitter account on my blog today. Why? because I was using your profile pic as an example of a ‘cool’ and creative image. Great post, Michelle!

  8. I have some crazy dreams myself, even the sexy ones then I roll over and look at my husband and I’m like holy shit did I do that….honey can you make your own coffee I’m going back to sleep for a little while then I have the “stuck in the grocery store line without enough money putting stuff back.” as payback. I have dreamed of the same house at different times for as long as I can remember. Not often, just enough to be weirded out by it. Maybe it’s what you eat before you sleep, not you as in person but you as in just people….I’ve been eating alot of pizza lately.

  9. My subconscious must be a frigid thing. Last night I dreamed I had coffee with Bradley Cooper (granted, he doesn’t do it for me) and the afternoon before I was riding in a convertible with Rob Thomas (who does, and the setting was promising, but all he did was sing, “Cause darling you’ve got so much soul” at me repeatedly).

    It used to be Tom Berenger for me, but seeing him in The Hatfields and The McCoys killed the dream. So I get the Jack Sparrow dirty thing.

  10. I often dream about the first apartment I rented where I lived on my own for two years. It is still there for me, and apparently I owe the landlord a LOT of rent.
    I also often dream that my tiny house has this whole other floor with oodles and oodles of room….still looking for that secret door.
    And sex dreams…..don’t get me started….they rarely end well.

  11. What I hate: when a dream seems to be making sense, and everything is going smoothly, and then something weird happens. Like the elevator I’m in starts moving sideways instead of up and down. Or my baby turns into a kitten. (Protip: don’t ever try to breastfeed a kitten. They look very cute, but their claws…well, let’s just say don’t.)

    So yeah. Back off, unconscious mind. Everything was fine until you stepped in.

  12. Damned subconsciouses. But I have to high five Jennifer Snarkypants in agreement that kind of like *any* exposure is good pr – sex dreams; the effed up ones, the boring ones the seemingly wacko ones – are good (as in the *at least you’re having them* way). Howeverrrrr….methinks that all of your Johnny/Dean/Norman/Daryl vagina blockers are subconscious roads leading back to one randy Randy. Let us hear how that unfolds k?

  13. That is almost crazy cool that you remember dreams so much. For me, it’s rare. Until last night. I had one that seemed to go all night. And even when I was partially awake, it went on. And it’s been in my head all day. Of course, I try and figure dreams out way too much and read into them. It’s probably nothing to think about, but I do. Crazy.

    As for your dreams… well, seems kind of whacked your subconscious won’t let you have a little fun in that dream world… but maybe that dirty was a prequel of a good kind of dirty? If not… your subconscious needs to do some ‘splainin.

  14. These days I’m a lucid dreamer, so luckily I can just change anything that’s putting me off. But when I was growing up, I used to have a recurring dream about being chased down a never-ending dark street by a large man. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear his heavy footsteps and raspy breathing as he fought to overtake me. And for whatever inexplicable, fucked-up reason, he kept panting the word “chestnuts” over and over. It’s the most idiotic word for him to have been saying, but somehow that only made it more terrifying.

  15. I almost never have any fun in my dreams, either, although I occasionally have one where I’m riding a motorcycle again, and those are kind of cool.

  16. I also never have good sex dreams. Mine are always about people I don’t find attractive in real life, from David Caruso to that guy who stars (starred?) in King of Queens. And, like yours, weird things happen, many times physically impossible. I finally had a great sex dream while I was 6 months pregnant. David Duchovny. Yesssss. But I fear it will be the only good one in my life, since I am pretty sure it was the hormones.

  17. I have recurring dream sets as well. One of them is this huge rambling Victorian place that is a small Texas town. I am considering buying it, but something always fucks things up. There’s also this like, mega-California place with sandstone pillars and a jacuzzi built for thirty. I hadn’t considered that other folks have recurring dream places. That’s just neat.
    Hm. You’ve given me an idea. I think I am going to try setting down just the places where I am dreaming. No other details, just places. I want to know if there are more than just the three or four that I already know about.

    • I can’t imagine how bizarre the ones are that I forget. Because the one’s I remember are fucked up. I have memories of dreams from when I was a kid and a teenager. I’ve had some that I’ve never been able to shake off.

  18. Ha ha ha, I wish my subconscious would pick Johnny Depp, just once. If you think yours is a dick you really wouldn’t want to swap!

  19. The occasional sex dreams I have are all screwed up- and always scary as fuck. Yay for not really remembering them!

    But I do have a recurring dream where I am 33 years old and still attending high school. Its my senior year. I’ve been attending my English class daily, but I leave after first period everyday to go to a convenience store, then I go to the park, and then I go out partying with friends all night. The entire dream is filled with underlying dread that my parents will find out I’m failing Algebra because I’m not even going to class.

    I have this dream a few times a month. I’m a high school graduate. I have about 100 college credits to my name as well… LOL.

      • I have another one sometimes where someone is after me, and I hide in a restroom in park. Thee toilets are filled heaping over the tops with shit, and the floors are disgusting. I’m locked in by a murderer. Then he sets the bathrooms on fire, and I try to escape thru a tiny high up window. I never know if I get out or burn up or what- always wake up in the middle of a panic attack there.

        Why does our subconscious fuck with us so much?

  20. hilarious. I have a recurring dream about a dreamy man that hubs and I both work with. My subconscious only gets in the way when I’m concsious again and meet him in the hallway. I’d never even think about it in real life…

  21. I wrote a post some time ago about my stress dreams — either in a car and the brakes are not working — or working in a radio station with a ton of dead air and other DJ catastrophes.

    The sex dreams….well, let’s just say they are the most terrifying at all. They always have to do with my first ex (The Loser) — a man I really cannot stand. During the sexy time, he’s very good and rocks my world — that’s how I know it is nothing but a dream 🙂

    • I do not understand why our brains torture us when we sleep…I really don’t. I had a dream last night that was interesting, but can’t remember it at all. I remember getting up to pee and thinking…damn..that was weird..I’ll have to remember that. And then I went back to sleep and forgot it all..

  22. Lucky for me I rarely have sex dreams, and the ones I do have are kind of vague. Instead I have dreams where I’m always going somewhere. Luckier for me I no longer sleepwalk or have night terrors.

    Sometimes I dream I’m a completely different person, which is weird. I even change genders. Once I dreamed I was Gene Shalit’s wife. I want to say the best thing about that dream is there was no sex, but it’s not true. The best part is I dreamed that I (the wife) entered lots of writing contests and was always a runner-up. I told Gene I was entering yet another one. He chuckled and said, “Move over, Susan Lucci.” That was such an obscure and weird reference I have no idea where it came from.

  23. Did you know 21 Jump Street was filmed in Vancouver?

    At the time that I was a punk rock bar star. The cast used to come into my favourite punk night club all the time (yes, Johnny too). I never spoke to him but I saw him several times. Actually Richard Greico had a reputation for being an asshole but one night he was just standing and patiently waiting his turn on the pool table (I was also pretty good at pool back in the day and played all the time at this club), and I won my game but got sick of playing and wanted to go dance so I handed my cue to Richard and told him the table was now his. Sort of as a reward for being a good boy and not an asshole (that was my thought process, I didn’t actually SAY that to him)! He looked surprised, smiled and thanked me. I saw no evidence to confirm the asshole-rumours.

    That’s as close as I came to actually talking to the great Johnny Depp tho!

    🙂

    Jackie

    • I think I did know that…that’s an awesome story. Holy shit, I would have been star struck back then. I’m older now and not sure I’d be quite so impressed with someone because they’re on a show.

      Except Norman Reedus.

      • Yah, I’ve never really been one to be star struck. This club attracted all sorts of celebs and musicians that would show up after their concert. Walked up to Ian Astbury of the Cult one time, just cuz I felt like it and said “thanks for all you do for us”. Julian Lennon was there one night, Billy Idol.. gawd, I could list people all night probably!

        It was fun at that club. Damn, I miss it! 🙂

  24. It’s Randy. Somehow he senses you are about to have a little somethin’ somethin’ going on in your subconscious, he wakes up and whispers, ‘Johnny Depp is dirty..he smells’ or ‘Dean Winchester has a teeny wanker’ in your ear. It works apparently.

    I don’t know what to tell you about the bath.

  25. The only recurring dream I’ve ever had is where I’m signed up for some college class and I can’t find the class location the whole semester and end up in a big panic because I’ve missed the whole class and am going to Fail. Variations of the dream include missing pants or different campuses. It’s been about 20 years since college, enough already! 🙂

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.