I don't usually remember my dreams. I've heard that what you remember depends on when you wake up during the dream cycle, and things that seem vivid immediately fade upon waking. But other times, I remember them like episodes from a show and they play out like a feature length film. This might have something to do with all the books I read and the movies I watch.
It is interesting that I can remember certain dreams I had even as a kid and cannot explain why. I still remember the dream I had where I was running away from something and thought to myself, "I want to FLY!" I jumped up and zoomed into the air like Superman and it was the coolest thing that ever happened because it felt real. I kept laughing and laughing and didn't want it to end. If someone had been watching me sleep I'm sure they would have seen a huge grin plastered across my face. It was the most awesome dream I ever had.
Not like the one I had a few nights ago.
In my dream I was driving a big old Buick or Oldsmobile. It was shiny and new and I was driving around Minneapolis with my sister Kelly. We were running errands. For some reason we end up in a section of Minneapolis that can only be described as a ghetto. We were looking for a store to buy a gift for someone. For some reason my sister-in-law Christy appears in the backseat and suggests we stop at Kmart.
I don't want to park in the Kmart parking lot. It is getting dark out, like a storm is coming, and the wind picks up. I parallel park the giant Oldsmobile and we get out.
When we come back to the car, there are a bunch of people standing around. Another car has hit the Oldsmobile. I am pissed. Kelly says, "Why didn't you park in the lot, dummy?"
I want to find out how a person broadsides a parked car; the whole right wheel well is smashed in.
"Someone call the cops," I say.
Nobody does anything.
"Call the cops," I tell Christy.
"My phone doesn't work," she says.
Now I'm really annoyed.
"Who hit my car?" I yell.
The mob ignores me. The cops show up.
"Who hit my car!"
I look at him. It is Corey Feldman. He is dressed like he belongs in a biker gang. He has a black bandanna on his head and a silver hoop earring. He is wearing black biker fingerless gloves, the kind with holes where the knuckles go. For some reason I know he's in the neighborhood to buy drugs. The drug dealers all ran away when the cops showed up.
He smiles as if to say, yeah, of course it's me.
"COREY FELDMAN, you're gonna pay for that!"
"But I'm a celebrity."
"Twenty YEARS ago!"
"Didn't you see me on the Surreal Life?"
"That doesn't count."
People start taking pictures of Corey Feldman and he smiles and waves. The police ask him if he needs a ride home. They start to escort him away, apologizing for the inconvenience.
"No! Take pictures of the accident!" I tell them. I start running around trying to grab people's cameras. Everyone, including the cops, laugh at me.
I wake up pissed off that Corey Feldman thinks he deserves special treatment.
I have no idea what to make of this dream, and have decided to blame it on watching too many episodes of The Shield. Basically, The Shield, if you have not seen it, is a show of bad people doing bad things. Usually, I end up disgusted at the characters and circumstances and feel better about my overall life in general. Kind of, "There but for the grace of God go I" type feeling.
But I don't recall Corey Feldman guest starring in any of the episodes.