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Half Asleep

Started by Nephew Twiddleton, June 04, 2010, 08:10:42 AM

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Adios

Quote from: Doktor Blight on January 08, 2011, 12:48:09 AM
Whoa Charley! That's a winner!

I have really considered making this one a short story, because of the weird.

Nephew Twiddleton

Quote from: Charley Brown on January 08, 2011, 03:40:00 PM
Quote from: Doktor Blight on January 08, 2011, 12:48:09 AM
Whoa Charley! That's a winner!

I have really considered making this one a short story, because of the weird.

Go for it
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Adios


Nephew Twiddleton

I was talking to Peter, my old manager at the liquor store from years ago. We're in a bar in West Roxbury. Odd. Never been in here before. He owns the bar now. He pours me a drink and we start talking. Mentions something about spending $10,000 on something. "Wish I had that kind of money. Must be good business this. How long and how much would it take me to get my bartender's license?" "You don't want to get into this business, Kevin. It's much more fun on the other side of that glass." I nod, shoot down my Jameson. "I'd still like to have the kind of money you have though. It's because you're a Freemason, isn't it?"

And, then, I come out of some strange daze and Villager and I walk through the casino, and we see an open roulette table.

"Roulette's fun, love. I'm going to go an play it."

"Hello sir, how much would you like to put down?"

I reach into my pockets and pull out $10,000. Hmm. Where the hell did I get money like that?

"10k, it looks like. On number 23." Number 23. Of course I would. But why not? The odds are the same for any other number. The wheel spins.

"Number 23 it is. Would you like to go again?"
"No. That was incredibly lucky. I'm going to keep what you give me."
Villager whispers in my ear, "I think this man is the Devil..."
I nod and say, "He is." And I believe it. I am talking to the Prince of Darkness himself.

Some of the other gamblers are patting me on the back and raising their glasses to me. The Devil hands me a whiskey. "Jameson, neat. Just how you like it, I believe." I nod. "How much?" "On the house. That was a good win."

Villager whispers in my ear again, "He's trying to get you drunk so you keep playing and lose all your money." I nod again. I shoot down the Jameson, and put the glass down on the table.

I look at the Devil and said, "I'll see you later."

"Oh, you most certainly will."


I roll over. Sure. 4 am is a good time to get up.
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Nephew Twiddleton

Bump.

Quote from: Net on June 30, 2012, 01:45:28 AM
I rarely have notable dreams, but I have to tell you guys about this.

I'm driving the shit out of this miniature BMW on a beach when I lose control of it and violently thump over several iguanas. I open the passenger side door to get a better look at the damage—it's grisly. Feeling guilty I let the small lizard out of the glovebox, "better luck to you buddy" I say and set him free on the beach. I'm about to drive off when a bipedal crocodile walks up with a hunting spear, jumps into the passenger seat, and says, "Drive motherfucker". So I drive.

He explains that he's been trying to form a union at the supermarket that he worked at. The boss set him and the union organizers up, framed them, in order to fire them. We pull up at the place and he hustles me inside, still at spearpoint. The human union-busters are getting gored by other bipedal crocs all around me, their harpoon guns making horrible metallic clanking noises as they fire, knocking people back 10 feet upon impact, showers of blood spraying everywhere.

In the chaos I escape back to the tiny BMW and start fiddling with a touchscreen marble camera phone when the croc who kidnapped me returns and forces his way into the car. "Let's go," he says. I pocket the marble and peel out of the parking lot. We have a long boring talk along the way, as my kidnapper has gotten comfortable and talkative. Something about back in his day they did things differently. I'm instructed to drive to a mansion and we're stopped in a foyer by some skinny security tards in tuxedos. The croc is explaining something to the poorly armed bastard on duty so I pull out the marble again. This time he notices it and gnashes his teeth at me, preparing to stab me with his spear and I wake up, laughing my ass off.

You all can do the same here. It's not just about my dreams.

Also, about to go back and reread my old ones.
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Nephew Twiddleton

Quote from: Iron Twiddleton on June 04, 2010, 08:10:42 AM
The phone was ringing. I must have been asleep...

I didn't want to pick up the phone, but when you're groggy you don't really have a lot of sense.

"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Kevin?"
"mmm, yeah..." I yawned. I sat up in bed and put my glasses on.
"Good morning, sir..." I registered the English accent, with a vague alarm. My father went off to England and I haven't heard from him.
The Englishman continued, "...I'm with the British consulate." My vague alarm subsided.
"Ok"
"We're calling to inform you that due to your recent activities with the IRA, Her Majesty's Government has sentenced you to death by lethal injection, to be carried out at half twelve AM, tomorrow morning. If you do not show, you are subject to arrest."
"Oh, hmmm... well is there anyway we could not do that?"
"Terribly sorry no"
"Oh."
"The execution will take place at the consulate. Do you need directions?"
"No. I can google it."
"Right, try to come 15 minutes early. Have a lovely day."
"You too."
"Thanks."

I hung up the phone and went about my morning routine, half asleep like a zombie. I mentioned off-handedly to my roommates that they would have to find a replacement for me immediately.

Fuck it, I'll take the day off.

As the coffee worked its way in, the import of my morning phone call sunk in. I should probably put my affairs into order. I called my mom and my sisters, told them that I loved them. Called my band to let them know what was up. Called my girlfriend, who also happens to be my band's bassist. Every last one of them asked me, "Well, are you involved with the IRA?"
"No, I just go about my business, you know?"
"I think you should call them back and tell them it was a mistake."
"I already agreed to it. Bastards got me while I was half asleep."
"Well you should call them back, and tell them it was a mistake."
"No, that's too much hassle. Besides, they wouldn't buy it anyway."

I went about my business, as usual. Every so often my impending doom would dawn upon me and I'd choke up and feel a mix of emotions. Anger, frustration, sadness, regret. Whenever this happened, I would make note of the time and say to whoever was present how much time I had to live. Around lunch time this happened. "Twelve hours on the dot and I'm dead!"

It was a comfort mechanism. I'm one of those people who resorts to humor when they can't express themselves otherwise. I wasted the time away, thinking of what I should do for my last hours of life. Nothing really came to me. Too short of a notice.

Evening came, and there wasn't much time left. I went to Dorchester to see my girlfriend one last time, to have dinner and a couple of drinks with her, and have one last roll in the hay. When I met up with her we were talking about it.

"You know this doesn't make any fucking sense. I never did anything to warrant the death penalty, let alone from a foreign government. Why should I put up with this shit? Fuck it, I'm not going. They can come and get me. If I can squeeze in an extra 5 minutes all the better. Assholes probably won't even take notice, since I'm just a piece of paper."

This naturally was fuelled by a combo of whiskey and Guinness. We went back to her place and had that roll in the hay. As we were cuddling in the afterglow, I looked over at the clock, which said 12:35.

I smiled. Then I realized that the UK doesn't have the death penalty anymore.

The phone was ringing. I must have been asleep...

:lulz:

Wow.

Obviously the girlfriend here is Villager. (yes I've been with her that long)

At the time, my father had moved abruptly to England and we never heard from him until a long time later. It was the same year that Britain was entirely iced over in winter. Turns out that my father was actually homeless at the time (he has a long history of mental illness, which is now under control. I wept when he admitted it to me that he was homeless. I could have lost him and I never would have known. He told me a year and a half after I last heard from him).

I'm glad my father is ok, and that the UK never executed me.  :lulz:
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞

Quote from: Iron Twiddleton on June 30, 2012, 01:51:08 AM
Bump.

Quote from: Net on June 30, 2012, 01:45:28 AM
I rarely have notable dreams, but I have to tell you guys about this.

I'm driving the shit out of this miniature BMW on a beach when I lose control of it and violently thump over several iguanas. I open the passenger side door to get a better look at the damage—it's grisly. Feeling guilty I let the small lizard out of the glovebox, "better luck to you buddy" I say and set him free on the beach. I'm about to drive off when a bipedal crocodile walks up with a hunting spear, jumps into the passenger seat, and says, "Drive motherfucker". So I drive.

He explains that he's been trying to form a union at the supermarket that he worked at. The boss set him and the union organizers up, framed them, in order to fire them. We pull up at the place and he hustles me inside, still at spearpoint. The human union-busters are getting gored by other bipedal crocs all around me, their harpoon guns making horrible metallic clanking noises as they fire, knocking people back 10 feet upon impact, showers of blood spraying everywhere.

In the chaos I escape back to the tiny BMW and start fiddling with a touchscreen marble camera phone when the croc who kidnapped me returns and forces his way into the car. "Let's go," he says. I pocket the marble and peel out of the parking lot. We have a long boring talk along the way, as my kidnapper has gotten comfortable and talkative. Something about back in his day they did things differently. I'm instructed to drive to a mansion and we're stopped in a foyer by some skinny security tards in tuxedos. The croc is explaining something to the poorly armed bastard on duty so I pull out the marble again. This time he notices it and gnashes his teeth at me, preparing to stab me with his spear and I wake up, laughing my ass off.

You all can do the same here. It's not just about my dreams.

Also, about to go back and reread my old ones.

I wasn't sure where to put it, but I'm honored to be included in your epic dream thread.
P E R   A S P E R A   A D   A S T R A

Nephew Twiddleton

Quote from: Iron Twiddleton on July 15, 2010, 02:12:41 PM
I'm in a strange building, half a sketchy warehouse, half a home. Like someone's secret lab. I don't know how I got here, or where the stick in my hands came from, or what my partner's name is, but I do know that this place has been overrun by Devil-worshippers and there are crazed chimpanzees running around, along with other lab animals. There are empty cages all over the place.

My partner and I are running around, trying to take care not to be bitten by these things as well as find the people we're looking for. For some reason they're important and are our primary objective in being in this place.

After some searching, I hear something from behind a wall of boxes, I knock them down and there they are. A man and a woman, (I know that they are romantically involved with one another) both fairly attractive. This is their place and they were doing some sort of research here. Now they were stripped down to their underwear, gagged and had their hands tied behind their backs, all with shrink-wrap. Their ankles were similarly bound. They were bouncing around, trying to shout through their gags and avoiding a chimp.

I chase the chimp off with my stick, come back and notice that on the desk is a baphomet surrounded by inverted crosses separating the individual digits of 666, along with the slogan, "Hail Satan!", scrawled in an adolescent hand, similar to my own attempts at defacing school property many years ago.

I take the stick and use it to remove the plastic from her ankles and wrists, saying, "here, you can get the gag, and set him loose too." I didn't want to spend too much time leaving myself open by freeing both of them. I've seen enough movies to know better.

"Oh thank you so much! I prayed and prayed that someone would come and save us!" she sputtered, "Praise Jesus! Amen!"
"All in a day's work ma'am." I looked at the desk and added with a mischievous grin and not a little fire in my eyes, "Hail Satan!"
I think I meant it too.

Everything must have happened very fast after that. The next thing I knew, they had gotten dressed, and the secret lab was secured and the animals all back in their cages. The Devil worshippers in question were long gone.

She was recording a vlog for her YouTube channel. Kinda weird for someone running a secret lab when you think about it. She also looked pretty cute with her glasses back on.

"...my boyfriend and I neutered and spayed our monkeys, but I guess we only half worked on him. Because he came after me with purpose and I was going to get it if not for our heroes..." gesturing to me and my partner, while we were poking through their cool lab stuff. She continued into the camera "I was trying to tell the chimp he didn't want any of that. Because I have herpes. Every so often I get festering sores all over my vagina. Herpes. Even if it wasn't contagious you wouldn't want to touch my itching, burning, scabby genitals." Okay, that took a turn for the fucking weird. This was getting to be too much. Talking a chimp out of raping you by graphically describing your herpes to him isn't going to work, and I don't see the point in sharing that info with YouTube. She continued, "You don't want my vagina scabs on your monkey penis. That's not hot!"

I turned from a book I pulled off their shelf and had been skimming through. I saw myself from across the room. Apparently, I am being played by 1990s David Duchovny. And it's one of those bad haircut episodes. But hey, at least I have a nice ensemble. Too bad my partner isn't Gillian Anderson. Come to think of it, I'm having trouble seeing his face. I/David have that mischievous grin again, turn to her and retort, "What are you talking about? Herpes are shmexy! I know I'm turned on right now from that description."

"Kevin, it's 8 o'clock"
"Hmm?"
"It's 8 o'clock, you wanted me to make sure that you woke up at 8."

I was asleep, what the fuck was that?

"Cool, thanks"
"Did Matt come home last night?"
"Yep, yes he did..."
Cue 15 minute half asleep to fully awake conversation.

I need to stop going to bed so late.

:lulz:

Holy shit!

The person who woke me up was my ex, who was awkwardly my roommate at the time.

This is some fun archaeology!
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Nephew Twiddleton

Quote from: Net on June 30, 2012, 01:59:42 AM
Quote from: Iron Twiddleton on June 30, 2012, 01:51:08 AM
Bump.

Quote from: Net on June 30, 2012, 01:45:28 AM
I rarely have notable dreams, but I have to tell you guys about this.

I'm driving the shit out of this miniature BMW on a beach when I lose control of it and violently thump over several iguanas. I open the passenger side door to get a better look at the damage—it's grisly. Feeling guilty I let the small lizard out of the glovebox, "better luck to you buddy" I say and set him free on the beach. I'm about to drive off when a bipedal crocodile walks up with a hunting spear, jumps into the passenger seat, and says, "Drive motherfucker". So I drive.

He explains that he's been trying to form a union at the supermarket that he worked at. The boss set him and the union organizers up, framed them, in order to fire them. We pull up at the place and he hustles me inside, still at spearpoint. The human union-busters are getting gored by other bipedal crocs all around me, their harpoon guns making horrible metallic clanking noises as they fire, knocking people back 10 feet upon impact, showers of blood spraying everywhere.

In the chaos I escape back to the tiny BMW and start fiddling with a touchscreen marble camera phone when the croc who kidnapped me returns and forces his way into the car. "Let's go," he says. I pocket the marble and peel out of the parking lot. We have a long boring talk along the way, as my kidnapper has gotten comfortable and talkative. Something about back in his day they did things differently. I'm instructed to drive to a mansion and we're stopped in a foyer by some skinny security tards in tuxedos. The croc is explaining something to the poorly armed bastard on duty so I pull out the marble again. This time he notices it and gnashes his teeth at me, preparing to stab me with his spear and I wake up, laughing my ass off.

You all can do the same here. It's not just about my dreams.

Also, about to go back and reread my old ones.

I wasn't sure where to put it, but I'm honored to be included in your epic dream thread.

I didn't think it epic at the time, but damn.

I need to get back on this.
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Nephew Twiddleton

Quote from: Iron Twiddleton on September 03, 2010, 05:43:08 PM
I'm at work. The lay out is kinda weird though. It doesn't look like work at all. I'm in a room with a sliding glass door, looking through files, busily looking for something... What am I looking for? I guess I'll know it when I see it. I'm going to be doing this for a long time.

A female employee walks in from the hallway, into the dimly lit ajoining room. She's overweight, but not fat, kinda hot actually. I've never seen her here before. She flashes me her breasts, smiles and proceeds to strip down entirely. As I'm looking, I remember that I have a girlfriend. Before I can tell her to put her clothes back on I see Dr. S, my boss in my previous position, coming down the hall. He gets to the door and the girl has just finished putting her shirt back on.

Dr. S looks at me. Suddenly he's very tall, even though I know that he is shorter than me (if you can believe that). The disappointment on his face draws my attention away from his huge mustache. "This is highly inappropriate," is all he says, and goes into a side door in the dimly lit room. "Mark!" [name intentionally changed] I call after him, trying to explain that I didn't do anything. "Mark!" The door closes.

The woman and I wait in the dimly lit room, waiting for him to come back. She's upset that she's going to lose her job. I'm trying to think of ways to keep my own and possibly save hers. I get the sense that sudden nudity aside, she's really a decent person. Insinctively though, I know there's nothing I can do, and she's going to have to get the axe.

A lot of time passes, and I go back into the file room. Mark comes out of the side room. He's aged considerably. "You're making too much noise." And closes the sliding door. "Mark, let me explain about..." he shakes his head and goes back into the room. I go back to the files. He comes out again and he's considerably younger. "You're going to wake the baby." "Mark, I need to talk to you." He returns to the room. I wait by the door. "Mark, come on man, talk to me!" He comes back out with a baby. "You've woken up Antoine. Who the hell are you anyway?" "Dr. S, you know who I am!" "I'm not a Doctor, I'm a police officer." I suddenly realize that I've been travelling through time, and I tell him this. "I know you as Dr. S, several years from now."
The thing is, Dr. S was never a cop, and never had a kid named Antoine. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

The next day, I was at a barbecue. Dr. S happened to be there also. I walked up to him. "Mark, did you have a really weird dream last night?" He looks at me kinda shocked, and says "Yes." "Did it involve time travel?" "Uh, yes..." Then he looks uncomfortable and quickly moves to talk to someone else.

I open my eyes, and I'm lying down on the couch. Last thing I remember was watching Jon Stewart.

I must have been asleep.

The only people on this board aside from me who knows who Dr. S is is Nigel (since she now has a good chunk of my work info) and Villager.

Picture that, Nigel!
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Nephew Twiddleton

Quote from: Iron Twiddleton on January 07, 2011, 06:08:58 PM
I'm in a fairly nice house, looking at a pair of speakers with nothing attached to it, and yet music is coming out of it. I marvel at this, when I hear someone go, "Great isn't it?"

I turn around and there is a large bee in the shape of a man standing behind me. I know that this is his house.

Normally I am petrified of bees but for some reason this very large drone, taller than me, did not frighten me. Nor did his massive stinger or huge insectoid mouth.

"They're not attached to anything though."
"Sure they are, look."

Bee man zapped the speakers with a laser and they started to morph into the stereo itself.

"How did you do that?"
"They are in the same place but the stereo is located in the extra dimensions that humans can't perceive."
"Like in string theory?"
"Kind of. The rest of my house is like that too. Great way to save space."

The house was pretty spacious. He zapped again and the couches appeared. We sat down.

"I'm not going to harm you. Bees are built with a lot of design flaws. If I sting you, I die. That's great if you're still a primitive bee defending the hive, but not when you evolve past the hive mentality and start having individuality. Hell, I've never even had sex. Our penises break off after mating. And c'mon, who wants to live without their dick?"
"How do you reproduce then?"
"We jack off into a cup and send it off to the queen."

Makes sense to me.

"Why am I here?"
"I needed to tell you something."
"About extra dimensions?"
"No, that's just something that we bees are more aware of."
"What is it then?"

"You can be a bee man too."

Alarm's going off. I must have been asleep.

Holy fuck... me being a bee man.

Also, this "house" is similar to an MIT frat apartment I once visited.
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Nephew Twiddleton

Quote from: Iron Twiddleton on February 28, 2012, 11:29:43 AM
I was talking to Peter, my old manager at the liquor store from years ago. We're in a bar in West Roxbury. Odd. Never been in here before. He owns the bar now. He pours me a drink and we start talking. Mentions something about spending $10,000 on something. "Wish I had that kind of money. Must be good business this. How long and how much would it take me to get my bartender's license?" "You don't want to get into this business, Kevin. It's much more fun on the other side of that glass." I nod, shoot down my Jameson. "I'd still like to have the kind of money you have though. It's because you're a Freemason, isn't it?"

And, then, I come out of some strange daze and Villager and I walk through the casino, and we see an open roulette table.

"Roulette's fun, love. I'm going to go an play it."

"Hello sir, how much would you like to put down?"

I reach into my pockets and pull out $10,000. Hmm. Where the hell did I get money like that?

"10k, it looks like. On number 23." Number 23. Of course I would. But why not? The odds are the same for any other number. The wheel spins.

"Number 23 it is. Would you like to go again?"
"No. That was incredibly lucky. I'm going to keep what you give me."
Villager whispers in my ear, "I think this man is the Devil..."
I nod and say, "He is." And I believe it. I am talking to the Prince of Darkness himself.

Some of the other gamblers are patting me on the back and raising their glasses to me. The Devil hands me a whiskey. "Jameson, neat. Just how you like it, I believe." I nod. "How much?" "On the house. That was a good win."

Villager whispers in my ear again, "He's trying to get you drunk so you keep playing and lose all your money." I nod again. I shoot down the Jameson, and put the glass down on the table.

I look at the Devil and said, "I'll see you later."

"Oh, you most certainly will."


I roll over. Sure. 4 am is a good time to get up.

Ah yes. I remember this one too. I was a bit spooked when I woke up.
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Nephew Twiddleton

Last nights dream starred Alty. However I don't remember any of it. This is the first night all week I slept through the whole night. I'm still tired too.
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Nephew Twiddleton

#58
Dr. KP came up to me. KP is about my age. She was one of Dr. S's post-docs. Had a bit of a crush on her. But then again, I had a crush on most of Dr S's post docs... particularly JS the Statistician. But that's unimportant. KP looks like she has something serious to talk about.

"Kev, you should talk to SH.."
"Why?"
"Welll.... maybe you should go up to the 5th floor."

Oh. The 5th floor. Main reception when you get off the elevator. The only floor accessible without a keycard. The brains. The spot where a few friends and acquaintances are, and at least one joke about the time I played an unexpected 3 hour solo set in Salem still floats around.

I don't know this person.

"Kev, I have some bad news."
"Heh. Yeah, let me go talk to my supervisor. Later."

I go back down to the third floor, where I work. I tap my supervisor, a fellow Discordian, of a fairly Erisian persuasion, and a friend on the shoulder and I ask her if we can go out for a smoke. She gives me a wincey smile. We walk to the elevator and get on. She knows that I'm on a bit of a spiritual journey, though, I haven't told her that I have temporarily recently adopted her ancestral religion. I'm tempted to ask her more about Judaism, but I don't actually know how involved she is, if at all. And well, really, this is more about the informality.

We sit on the bench in front of the art college, where she and I usually smoke together.

"I hate to tell you this, but..."
"I'm laid off."
"Yes."
"Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?"
"I wish I could tell you."
"Why me? I've been working here for 13 years."
"Well, the reason for that is because you've worked here for 13 years, you're the highest paid per hour."
"And I'm scheduled at the minimum 20 hours. Which means I make less than everyone else."
"I know. It doesn't make a lot of sense."
"You're right. It doesn't."

I must've been half asleep.

"SH, I think that I'm asleep."
"You're not."
"This doesn't make sense. Even less sense than expected."
"You're awake. This is real."
"I'm having my doubts."
"Does this hurt?"

SH pinched me hard.

"OWWW!!! Yeah, that hurt! But I'm still not convinced. There's only one way to prove it."

I begin to stare at the glass bowl in front of me. (Hey, where did this glass bowl come from?)

"Are you trying telekinesis?"
"Yes."
"You're awake. This is real. It's not going to work."

I strain. I hope. Goddamnit how is telekinesis done anyway?

MOVE YOU FUCKER!!!!

The bowl went flying. Into JS the Statistician's boob. Whoops....

"Sorry about that!"
"I thought I was real."
"I'm pretty sure you're real. At any rate I know you in real life. Don't know about anyone else, since they mostly seem like background characters. I know them in real life too, but they don't seem to be interacting with us. Maybe we're stuck in the same dream?"

Then we're both back on the third floor, but it's dark, and chaotic, and all of the post-docs and principal investigators are getting manic and psychotic. They're tearing the place up. I turn to SH and say, "Either way, I think we need to get out of here."

I roll over. My alarm hasn't gone off yet. Maybe it doesn't have to. Did I get laid off or not?

I must have been asleep.

:alarm goes off:

So... do I have to get up or not? I can't remember. I must have just woken up.
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Nephew Twiddleton

Fucking hell. Reread all of these. Half the time I'd read the first several sentences and go, "the fuck..." and the remember the rest of the dream, but not all of it.

Like the warehouse dream. I remembered I was David Duchovny and there were chimpanzees, but the herpes were entirely forgotten.

Damn. The human brain is a weird ass place.
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS