I've been dreaming about co-workers and my parents... Neither of which are subjects I'd like to have on my mind while snoring loudly into HapticAnimals face.

So a new resolution for 2014: end every night with an hour of reading. Brandon Sanderson has a new book out and is work is usually low hanging fruit when it comes to fantasy, so I'll start there.

Be ready Jolt Country!

I dreamed I sharted my pants.

How'd that nootropic stuff work out for you, speaking of weird dreams.



THE
STEROIDS OF SLEEP
AARDVARK

There is SOMETHING going on making us all have dreams where people are shooting each other, or people are in them that deserve to get shot, like Trent Reznor and people who play craps or both.

That's so weird -- I've had gun-related dreams two nights in a row.

The night before last I had one of those dreams that could be made into a movie. There were nine of us holed up in a cabin in the woods. Me, Susan, a co-worker, and six strangers. We had all robbed a bank (I had done something with the computers for them) and there was a safe with $18 million dollars in it divided into 9 piles of $2 million each. I also remember it was $2 bills (which of course in reality would be gigantic). The gist of the dream was that we were waiting for the cops to show up and have a shoot out but the three of us weren't given guns and at some point I realized that the six of "them" were going to ditch us right before the cops arrived. Also for some reason the safe was open so when everyone went into the living room I stole the money and went outside and as trying to get Susan and our friend to come outside so we could split.

Then last night I dreamed that Susan got pulled over by a motorcycle cop and he told us to put our guns on the ground. THen when we did he started shooting in the air and Susan was running around in circles and he was shouting, "How are you going to defend yourself when your gun is on the ground?" (In real life Susan does not have a gun.) Then he asked to see my gun and when I handed it to him he started trying to shoot it and it wouldn't shoot. When he pulled the clip out it was full of all kinds of stupid things like Nerf darts and pencils and stuff and then the bullet on top was facing the wrong way, which he explained to me was the problem.

I gotta lay off the pre-bed tequila shots.

Obviously our job is clear.

We have to SHOOT TRENT REZNOR.

I have had two dreams about gun violence since moving.

The second one, we were living in some dusty town. It was cold, but it was the summer. People were FREAKING OUT in town, and then I lived in a house with three stories suddenly and people were coming to get in and I had to shoot them to get them to go!

The first one, it was a dark and cold night. I was walking home in the darkness. Someone pulls a gun on me and I am like whoooooooooooa don't shoot me, don't shoot me! And I try to get out of the way of the gun. Then I wanted to run back here and I was like, "I don't have a gun, I don't have a gun, why do I always put stuff off?"

...that I was shooting craps with Trent Reznor.

I was winning, but he was shooting and before every shot he'd recite some bizarre NIN lyrics or some shit and the game took forever.

Plus the craps table was poorly designed so 9 out of 10 throws would go off the table or not hit the end board or the dice would get stuck together and nobody could tell what the--

Look, it was a goddamn debacle. I won money, but it wasn't worth it because it was a such a goddamn intolerable experience.

THANKS TRENT. Asshole.