I’ve acknowledged the fact that I’m pretty easy going in the past, but it’s just been recently that I realized their quips and jokes are more than justified. I began truly realizing this when I analyzed some of my dreams I’ve been having. These dreams have all happened in the past month or so and they really illustrate what’s going on in the old noggin. I’ve got credit card debt, not enough money to pay taxes, and I’ve been really sick three times already this year. But what does my subconscious focus on and think about you ask?
Well, dream number one…a few weeks back, I’m on a giant boat in the ocean. This boat has about seven massive waterslides shooting down into the ocean, and the entire dream is just me flying down these waterslides, having a blast, over and over, for hours…that’s it! That’s a full night of dreaming for Snake Craney.
Dream two consists of me going to the “Toddler Olympics” and for some reason being a huge fan. So I’m at the Toddler Olympics (99% sure this athletic event doesn’t exist, but it should) and I’m watching the swimming event cheering my ass off for this little guy in a diaper doing a 50M freestyle, but his little arms are just flapping around like a puffer fish because he hasn’t developed the motor skills to execute a proper freestyle stroke. Nonetheless, I’m pretty sure my guy won. Setting aside the logistical problems and impossibilities of this dream, I’ve really got no idea what to make of this. I think my brain might be taking a creative writing class, but can’t stay focused enough to write anything that makes any actual sense. Regardless, competitive swimming amongst toddlers…always fun.
The last dream I’ve had recently involved myself and my friends Justin, Clark, and Chris preparing to shoot a comedy sketch. We had our idea and we were ready to film, and I decided that for some reason, we needed Anne Hathaway. So I loaded the guys up into this huge van, because apparently we turned into pedophiles for the dream, and we rolled on down to the Hathaway household, because obviously I know where that is. Anne’s mother answered the door and I barely acknowledged her, I just burst by her saying, “I’ve got to talk to Anne.” So I went to her room, because of course I know which one it is, I barged in there, and she’s topless. So naturally we started going at it, getting a little hot and heavy with Anne Hathaway, and what comes out of my mouth? “Save it for later, we need you for a comedy sketch, it’ll take 10 minutes tops.” So we rushed out of her house, past her mother, again saying nothing, and the boys were waiting in the van, I opened the door and in a very serious tone, I say “I got Hathaway, let’s roll.” I woke up before we could shoot the sketch and Anne and I could resume, but if my subconscious ever decides to finish this particular dream, I’ll let you know (after I stop weeping tears of joy).
So there you have it, I feel like that is a fairly diverse and accurate representation of what my brain is concocting. There’s no rhyme or reason as far as I can tell. Psychology majors, if you need something to do in between smoking weed and figuring out my underlying motives and rationale as to why I’d make such a sweeping generalization like that…feel free to take a crack at it.
No other dreams recently have stood out enough for me to remember after waking up. No bad dreams, no dreams about work or issues or anything. So, based on the aforementioned dreams, as well as current happenings in my daily life, here are my predictions for my dreams for the upcoming week:
Monday: I sing a duet with Wiz Khalifa while wearing a lycra-spandex suit and a cardboard Burger King crown. After we finish the duet, Wiz and I grab lunch at Arby’s, where I throw the crown away and proclaim roast beef to be the “New King.”
Tuesday: I come home one evening to find my dog Charlie has eaten all my protein powder and is now a muscular, 200 pound beast. After watching him joyously bench press the couch, we walk down to the Venice Boardwalk and he works out on Muscle Beach, much to the delight and fascination of onlookers. He is kicked out after pooping on one of the machines, and we walk home. After a steak dinner (one for me, six for him), we turn in. For once, he is the big spoon.
Wednesday: Glorious dance party inside a gigantic tub of mac & cheese.
Thursday: I take a trip to Iceland and visit a bar made entirely of ice. Incredibly, my friend Nick is also there, and we spend the rest of the night making bad ice-related jokes. “Chill out man, its cool. Go talk to that girl, I can tell she’s making your icicle freeze up.”
Friday: I’m at the batting cages, but instead of hurling out baseballs, the machine instead throws tomatoes. Fuckin awesome.
Saturday: As I get on stage to do stand-up, I realize everyone is naked. I begin to tell my first joke, and then realize everyone is making out. I realize I’ve gone to the wrong address and this is a meetup for a group that loves orgies. I run out of the club, stop off to get a turkey burger, and ruminate about why my first joke about the merits of abstinence didn’t land.
Sunday: Anne Hathaway makes her comeback with a stunning performance as a topless Starbucks barista. She gives me a java chip frappuccino and says “here’s your pussy drink, bitch.” I chug the frappuccino, crush the cup in my hand, climb over the counter, grab Hathaway…….and then wake up.
Stay tuned for future editions of this post as time goes by. Who knows what crazy, fun, ridiculously childish things my brain will come up with next.
Snake Alley Song of the Day: Tokyo Police Club - Your English is Good
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