Dream on

Normally I don't do posts about dreams because they're boring/cliche' and also because I rarely remember all of the details of my subconscious musings. This morning, however, I awoke thinking "what the hell?!?" because of a dream I had. It was so randomly bizarre that I feel the need to broadcast it to the world. And, if anything, I know K-Dub will appreciate it for the random Lindsay Lohan cameo.

To begin, I'm on a date with an attractive man. Great start to the dream, I know. Except his idea of a date is for us to watch some hybrid moto-cross/runner's race pass by a lookout location near the town where I currently live. Ever-the-optimist, I give it a shot and soon we're having a grand old time cuddling and watching idiots run long distances/pop wheelies on bikes (yeah I have no clue what kind of sporting event this would be) while we laugh at them from our cushy seats in his car.

Suddenly, though, we're no longer at the race, but at a high-end mall that I can guarantee would never be built anywhere in Minnesota. But we're there and suddenly my date leaves me with my overbaring mother, who squaks that we are now on a shopping mission from God, searching for something that is never fully explained to me. All I know is that I REALLY want a Jimmy Johns sandwich, but when we finally go there after combing through 26897 stores, they're out of bacon for my BLT so they make me some Mexican-esque dish. I am not pleased with this result, but my mom tells me to shut up as she inhales her delicious-looking sub while I pick at my guacamole and rice.

After we're finished, my mom leads me to this trendy banquet hall and mysteriously says "they're all waiting" before disappearing. I walk into the hall to find a dozen or so people seated around a large medieval-looking table. Guests include my BFF Emily, my date who mysteriously vanished earlier, random friends from grad school, Zac Efron and Lindsay Lohan. They all smile and cheer when they see me. They also start ordering copious amounts of alcohol and I get drunk off of one blue amaretto slushie drink (which sounds really delicious right about now). Zac keeps smiling at Emily and I and we keep giggling like preteen idiots because we really do have crushes on him in real life (because when we're together we digress from semi-mature twenty-somethings to barely tolerable teeny-boppers). Lindsay keeps ordering rounds of shots and is crowned queen of the night because she is more drunk than the rest of us, which equal most fun in our books. Soon though, she's slumping over chairs and attempting to dance on our huge table, which does not sit well with the staff. After Zac valiently tries to both sober up Lindsay (fail) and convince the staff that we're good people who just want to drink more slushie drinks and shots so they shouldn't throw us out because of one stupid drunk (fail) we're all ushered out. Zac takes my hand and I think I'm about to get lucky. Instead I'm lead to a non-denominational church service singing bad songs about Jesus while the rest of the crew presumably goes in search of more liquored-up slushie drinks.

Now, I love dream interpretation. LOVE IT. I jump at the chance to analyze my friends' dreams and I've gotten pretty good at digging deep at the symbolism of one's subconscious. But it doesn't take a dream analyst to realize that the dream I had last night denotes nothing good. I've looked up some of the key elements in an online dream dictionary and all of them basically stated that I'm messed up. Needless to say, this makes me feel so thrilled. Though I can see at least one silver lining in all of this--I'm going to figure out how to make a blue amaretto slushie drink. That shit looked so good in my dream last night. Maybe if I pass out from overconsumption of those I'll have better dreams.