Side Effects Include Ability to Fly

Lately, I’ve been using sleeping pills to get to sleep at night (obviously, I mean I wouldn’t be taking them to help me with my layup). Anyway, one awesome side effect of these little white buggers is some truly interesting and psychedelic dreams.

Is it still considered a side effect if the side effect is the whole reason you’re taking them?

Anyway, I’m the kind of person that likes having dreams. Without them, sleep is boring. I like the good dreams for obvious reasons, but I even like the bad ones. Why? Because that instant rush of relief you feel when you wake up and realize none of it was real makes the nightmare totally worth it.

I know, I’m weird. Whatever.

I sometimes wonder if there is any actual meaning to dreams. Some scientists contend that time is relative. If so, then a peek at the future might not be totally impossible. I mean, I’ve had dreams where the things I dream about actually happen later, but that’s probably a coincidence. I spend a lot of time hanging out at bars in my dreams. I also lose my car in the parking lot of the mall. Both these things frequently happen in real life, and on the astral plane.

I dream of water a lot. Some see dreaming of water as a spiritual omen of future wealth. I see it as an omen that I passed out in the bath again. I have got to stop taking those damn pills before bath time.

My favorite part of a dream is the part where you realize that it’s a dream, but you don’t wake up. That’s only happened to me a few times, but when it does, I use it to my advantage. I spent a lot of time flying (not walking, flying) away from explosions in slow motion in those dreams. I have also had carnal knowledge of a very long list of celebrities. Good times.

I’d like to think that there’s some kind of deeper meaning behind dreams, but I think they are usually just little pieces of the day you can’t quite get out of your head. That’s why my dreams always take place in bars, or at my high school, which is really weird. It’s been a while since I was in high school. I probably couldn’t tell you half of my teachers names back then. But those little high school pieces stay stuck.

I’m excited about dreams today because one I had last night gave me an idea for a story. At least, I hope it was the dream, and not some Lifetime movie playing in the background that I am going to copy word for word. How much would that suck?

Anyway, I’m off. I have an appointment with two little white pills, followed by a trip to my high school in my underwear.


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