Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Please Interpret these Dreams for me

Just like the countless internet singles profiles that I have just to fool women into thinking that I'm marriage material when I just want to label them a S.A.D.A.B(Suck A D*ck And Bounce), I need the help of the online community for this post. I have had a few recurring dreams over the past few years, and like Hitler with a difficult crossword puzzle, I'm having a hell of a time figuring it out. So I'm going to need all of you who are nice enough to read this daily drivel and are enabling my bullshit, to put on the shrink cap and give me what you think are the meanings to the recurring dreams that I have at least twice a week. I have to warn you, it might not be as easy as you think. Let me explain: I know I should have reported her to whoever you report these things to, but when I ended my therapy sessions with the psychiatrist that I was seeing once a week, she said in a very angry voice, "Good, because you are beyond help you crazy fuck!!"(That has to break some sort of therapy code) Anyway, here are a few on my recurring dreams.

The Hit man Dream: This dream always starts off with me wearing a very sharp suit, waiting to get patted down by two huge Samoan gentlemen in front of some fancy ass club. After they feel secure that I'm not carrying any artillery, one of them is leading me through a very dim hallway where I can see many Ecstasy affected club goers convulsing, I mean dancing. The guy escorting me to my destination makes a remark about how thick my glasses are, and even breaks out the old mama joke about the lenses being so thick that I'm able to see people waiving on a map. I laugh, but in my head I say to myself, "Just for that crack, I'm going to make sure you are one of the people I kill!!" This is the part of the dream that I realize that I am a hit man posing as a drug dealer, because in my dream I always look down at the briefcase I am holding, somehow realizing the drugs in there are as fake as Mary J Blige's "whoah is me" routine.

After stepping through a metal detector, another pat down, and being scanned again by a metal detecting Wan, I finally meet the crime kingpin that needed more security than George W. Bush at the B.E.T awards. We chat for a few minutes, his henchman takes the drugs to be tested, and we have a very polite conversation about things ranging from politic to the circumference of Jennifer Lopez' ass. That is when they find out that the drugs that I have are fake and threaten my life, asking me if I have any last words. That's when I start to ramble about something, slowly take off my glasses, and somehow, this is crazy I know, begin to treat the glasses like a transformer and turn it into a deadly fire arm. At this point, like my mind had sampled Ice Cube on his "Amerikkas Most Wanted" album, I say "Yeah, I have some last words. Fuck all y'all" and begin to shoot the crime kingpin and all of his henchmen like they were tin cans during target practice.

I guess the weird thing about the whole thing is that I walk through the club and kill civilians as well. I see one young lady and I shoot, POW, and say, "That was because you know that those shoes don't go with that dress girlfriend." I see a dude dancing and I shoot him, POW, "That was because that is the improper way to execute a proper 'cabbage patch'." That is when I shoot the DJ for playing "Laffy Taffy" or some horseshit of that ilk, emptying my clip in him. Besides the fact that I have just gone a public killing spree, the people are grooving to me as I DJ the rest of the party. Weird, just weird.

The High School Dream:
This dream I find myself in High School again, which shouldn't be that shocking because I'm getting as much booty as I was getting then, none. Anyway, my mother is banging on my door like she had done so many times in attempting to wake my black ass up for school, cracking jokes like "The mailman, I mean, you father said don't make him come up here and drag you out of bed!!" I get up, wondering if the profession of my father is really that as a letter carrier, and rush to get ready so I won't miss my bus. I leave the house as quickly as I can, but when I go outside I notice the bus is leaving and won't stop even though I chased it for a block, yelling and screaming like fallen white chicks in horror movies.

After walking an hour I finally get to school where I learned that I have missed what was the most important test of my entire lifetime. A few classes later I get publicly pummeled and pounded by this bully named Paul.(Alliteration anyone?) Then in lunch a kid trips me as I made my way to sit down, chicken patties and chocolate milk go everywhere. When I gather myself and get off the ground after sobbing for a few moments, I get up and I am butt ass naked, which would be cool if I was hung like a horse, but in actuality my girth represents that of a toddler. As women point at the shriveled object that I blindly call my "monster penis", and my own teachers are calling me "stubby" and giving me the universal hand sign for short penises everywhere, I pass out due to the enormity of the situation.

The Dad dream: This is the scariest dream because it involves my dad, and in it I openly acknowledge that it is indeed a dream. Here I find myself alongside my father in a fishing boat, fishing late at night, in the middle of the deadliest thunderstorm imaginable. At first the dream is soothing, my father says very kind things to me, things that make a guy who had a turbulent relationship with his father feel pretty damn good. As soon as I question why the fuck are we fishing in this weather and say, "I thought you were dead, how are we talking??", the weather gets extremely more violent, the boat starts rocking, and my father's demeanor becomes all too familiar. He says, "You could fuck up a free lunch you know that?? Pathetic motherfucker, I never loved you anyway, your brother was the real apple of my eye!!" This is where I say, "You know what, even beyond the grave you fuck with me in my dreams! I can't wait to wake the fuck up and get my black ass off your flimsy ass boat!!" Then suddenly the weather calms down and me and my father sit there for minutes just staring each other, just silently shedding tears the entire time. The funny thing is, when I wake up my face is completely drenched with tears.(At least that is what I hope it is, I don't recall meeting any women with weird fetishes lately)


Rachel said...

Oh, HumanityCritic, I don't know whether you're being serious or not about your psychiatrist, but she went against APA ethic codes, and you could report her for that. As for your dreams, I don't know, but there hasn't been any solid evidence that Freud's dream interpretations are actually plausible in any sense. That guy was a cokehead, and prescribed his patients coke too. He was either a genius or a quack.

xp said...

*Dies* SADAB... haha... I couldn't make it through that long post righ now but lemme bust out my trusty psych books and holla back!