What is this I don't even

I had a pretty bizarre dream last night.

It started with my best friend and I getting involved in some kind of holographic zombie game. There were a number of celebrities playing, including the guy who played Thomas Cromwell on The Tudors, Cillian Murphy and Sean Connery, among others. We played until evening came around, then headed back to a conveniently placed villa to relax for a few days. Upon arrival, my friend and I wandered into a garden and attempted to strike up a conversation with Cillian Murphy and the guy who played Cromwell, but both were rude to us, so we went back to our shared room to bitch about them.

This was when I noticed two sores on my forehead. Both started fairly small, looking like tiny patches of dark freckles, but quickly became more and more severe, until they were unbearably painful. One had festered to the point where a hole had formed, allowing me to see inside my skull. Peering in afforded me a view of my brain, a pack of cigarettes and, strangest of all (yes, stranger than the rogue pack of cigarettes) a full-sized room filled with various furnishings, the walls covered in elaborate circuitry. I pulled out the pack of cigarettes and proceeded to smoke them, not at all concerned with the fact that I had a room large enough to hold numerous people somehow defying physics and fitting inside my skull. I was concerned about the head sores, though, but instead of going to the hospital like a normal person, I decided to wait until morning for my doctor's office to open. None of the people around me contested this idiotic plan.

As things progressed, I also began noticing that several of the moles on my body had swelled up into pulsating blood blisters, each roughly the size of a grape. Did this discovery encourage me to go to the hospital? Of course not. Instead, I lay in bed, clutching my head in pain as my friend played a song on guitar to try to cheer me up. At one point, Sean Connery noticed my agony and came over to coo poetic verses and various philosophical statements in an effort to comfort me. Cillian Murphy also came in to apologize for his earlier rudeness, explaining that, despite what the public believes, he was actually 70-years-old and didn't know how to relate to 20-somethings. I told him that he looked good for his age.

Eventually, morning arrived, and it was time for me to go see the doctor. Exciting the villa (by myself, of course -- because who needs an escort when they've got a hole in their head and blister moles taking over their skin?), I found myself in the parking lot of the strip mall next door to my complex. Conveniently placed villa indeed. My doctor's office was supposed to be located in the lot where the Pizza Hut used to be, but I discovered a sign on the door which said that they'd moved to a new location, way on the other side of the city. Instead of going to a local clinic or, you know, a hospital, I stubbornly chose to continue trying to get to the doctor's office.

By this point, my head sores were beginning to affect my cognitive abilities, so in my confusion, I accidentally stole a car and crashed it into a street sign just outside of the strip mall. Realizing my mistake, I got out of the vehicle and headed toward the bus stop (no cabs or ambulances or hospitals in dream land, I guess), until I discovered that I didn't have any bus tickets. I turned back, starting towards the convenience store in the strip mall, all the while in severe pain and surrounded in a cloud of confusion. During this short trek, I pass by a guy whom I went to junior high with. He was also apparently my ex-boyfriend (which is actually a recall of a previous dream I had where I dated him; dreams are funny like that), and a bitter ex at that. He took the opportunity to mock me for my predicament. I ignored him and continued to make my way to the store.

The confusion struck again, this time leading me to get lost and somehow ending up in a department store. I wandered around in there for a bit, decided to buy a jacket, then headed up an escalator for reasons only known to my subconscious. The escalator (or maybe the confusion) led me inside a display class. It took me a while to find an exit (I'm assuming that the way I came in magically sealed itself up or something), during which time I knocked over mannequins and caused general chaos, much to the chagrin of the retail workers, but I finally found a way out through the back... which brought me right into someone's happy little home.

So, I went into this house and found some kids playing with Lego. By now, I was in pretty bad shape from all the sores and throbbing blood blisters. I could barely stand, let alone walk, and thinking clearly was pretty much out of the question. I stumbled around the room before collapsing right onto the Lego, destroying the children's creations. Their angry screams brought their mother into the room. She was understandably upset upon finding a stranger in her home, and my attempts to explain the situation to her only made things worse -- and not just for the obvious reason. As she quickly herded the kids away from me, she explained that my sores had somehow caused me to become highly radioactive, making me a danger to everyone around me. I reacted to the news by jumping over a suddenly-appearing railing.

Unfortunately for dream-me, in all of my confusion, I'd wasted the entire day wandering around like a moron. Alas, the doctor's office was closed for the evening. I was forced to head back to the villa to spend another night waiting for treatment (since the hospital apparently still wasn't an option).

That's when the dream ended.

I Don't.

Dreamt that I was being forced into some kind of arranged lesbian marriage, despite not being gay.

CDC Going to See the Sea.

Last night, I dreamt that the entire ocean -- as in, the water itself -- had somehow become infected with HIV. Possibly even the HIV that causes SuperAIDS, since merely touching the water guaranteed that you'd come down with an aggressive form of the disease which would kill you in less than ten minutes.

Naturally, there was ocean water everywhere I went. Even here in Calgary, a good thousand or so kilometres inland from the nearest coast, we managed to experience a tsunami. This turned the entire city into an obstacle course through which I had to navigate. Water would randomly pour from roofs, I'd somehow find myself trying to balance on narrow paths near ocean water, and random jerks would try to throw the HIV saline at me.

Eventually, I forgot all about the Ocean of Disease, and wound up in an arcade doing something or other before being rudely awoken by my alarm clock.

In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the apatosaurus rapes Monica Lewinsky.

Had two fucked up dreams the other day:

1) I was trying to take pictures of mountain scenery, but a child kept jumping into the shots just to piss me off. I finally lost my temper and started yelling at her, only to have a group of body guards come rushing out of no where to tell me to back off. Turns out this kid was the lovechild of Monica Lewinsky and Bill Clinton. The rest of the dream involved a legal battle between Lewinsky and me over whether or not her kid should be allowed to ruin people's photographs. Most of this somehow took place in a pet shop.

2) I was in the midst of a jungle, doing my own makeup for a fashion show while also being chased by a talking T. Rex, which culminated with me discovering that the song "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" is secretly a pro-rape anthem. This discovery was made when I learned about hidden verses that encouraged Little Foot from The Land Before Time to rape his mother.

The smell of success.

Dreamt that my friend and I opened up a business -- something called a "Diaper Repair Shop". In the dream, this was treated as a brilliant, revolutionary idea, earning us a great deal of praise from the community. We were hailed as geniuses.

Can't remember anything else from the dream.

That's a stretch.

Dreamt that I had giant gauges in both of my ear lobes, but couldn't recall exactly how they got there.

NO FACE FOR YOU.

Dreamt that numerous wasp-like insects attached themselves to my face with their stingers (or some stinger-like apparatuses, anyway). I managed to pull them off, but their stingers/face-attach-to thingies/tubules of horror were left behind, setting off something resembling both an infection and an allergic reaction. My head swelled up to three times its size, my entire body turned a purplish-blue colour and I had boils and blisters covering the entire left side of my face, slowly spreading to the right. Pus was everywhere.

Like anyone with an iota of intelligence, I decided it was time to visit the doctor. Like someone who is dreaming, and therefore impervious to logic, I didn't call an ambulance or try to get to the hospital -- instead, I chose to call my mom to drive me to a walk-in clinic. This set off one of those race-against-time dream sequences where I ran into a hundred billion obstacles as I tried to get to a doctor, the situation quickly deteriorating as things went on. First, I had to convince my mother that I really did need to get some medical attention. Second, we got lost while driving and ended up on some kind of dude ranch/patch of reeds/forest (it was somehow all three), where we were forced to pay a toll for passing through the land. Third, we discovered that every clinic in the city had closed. Every last one.

During this time, pieces of my face had began to slough off. I finally decided that I should just go to the hospital. And so, just as I arrived at the ER doors, I caught my reflection in a conveniently placed mirror (suspiciously convenient), and discovered that my entire face had come off, as had my muscles, tendons, etc., leaving behind a bloody skull with eyeballs and a brain hanging out.