An Action Star Dream

It's Initiation Week, and as such, my sleeping pattern is way out of whack - its now one of those patterns you stare at, that looks like a tessellation of dolphins but in fact is two spaceships in a low earth orbit giving high fives. Did that make sense? If not, it's because I haven't slept much.

I sleep for probably four hours a night, wake up for a ceremony or hazing (many times we combine the two out of a desire of expediency), and then sleep for another two hours before class starts. It was in this morning's two hour supplement that I had a wonderful dream.

One of my pledges, Jon Reene, was kidnapped. He's a skinny goofball, and in the dream he was wearing these terribly large glasses with no lenses. He didn't need them. That may have been why the local drug lords took him away. They despise posers, or so the dream seemed to say.

His fraternity big brother, Jordan Hurst, and I, along with a few faceless redshirts, came after them out of a sense of brotherhood. The drug lords had established a base of operations in the old Washington Regional Medical Center, which is now the Center for Sleep Related Disorders. Coincidence? Probably. I just found that out, researching this blog post.

We entered through the front doors after getting a parking ticket for leaving our car in a restricted lot, and found that the first floor of the Center had been turned into a shopping center. Dr. Muntz, the professor of my History of Alexander the Great class, greeted us, and directed us downstairs, where we would find many bargins on weaponry. I thanked him, and told him I thought his puns were hilarious. That's when I knew it was a dream. He has terrible puns.

And also he's liar, because downstairs there wasn't any weaponry, but a bunch of dads watching their sons play in this magnificent water park; I have to say, even now in retrospect, I'm not angry at Dr. Muntz for his misdirection, because that water park was so cool. There wasn't any land base - the structure rose out of the water on stilts like a tropical supervillianous lair. It was contained in a glass sphere, so that children who floated at the edge of the water bumped into an invisible barrier and swam back to the slides. But the dads were about to watch Avatar, and I had already seen it, so we kicked the drug lords' door down.

I killed like three people; I'm not really clear on where the gun came from. It was in my waistband when I reached for it. At any rate, I'm really glad it was there, because if I didn't have it, I wouldn't be here typing. I would be dead, because if you die in my dreams, you die in real life. That's what happened to my last dog.

Jordan killed someone with a throwing knife, and he's supposed to be our chaplain. The knife hit the man right between the pectorals; I feel that spot now and it seems like there's some serious bone there, so he must have thrown the knife really hard. I always believed if it came to it, Jordan would kill. Now I know.

We found Jon tied up with silly string and wearing those stupid glasses. And then, in a sudden twist, Jordan stabbed Jon in the hand and killed him (my subconscious doesn't really understand anatomy). I'm not really clear on the rest; the dreamed jumped from there to a scene where Will Smith and Special Agent Brand from the X-Men comics I've been reading were collaborating on an investigation. But I think Jordan was working for Dr. Muntz the whole time.

R.I.P. Jon Reene, who was stabbed in the hand and died in my dream, for the cause of greed and other things which I can't really identify, because there isn't much logic in a dream.