5:42AM Oddities

I went to bed early last night, hoping a good night's sleep would finally break the headlock that Mr. Fatigue currently has locked around my neck. My roommate and I had once again spent an entire evening firmly entrenched in Disc 5 of "Lost: Season 1" (aka crack cocaine) so I drifted off to sleep, expecting weird dreams.

Unfortunately, I was awoken at 5:42AM by stirrings around the apartment. Getting up to head towards the bathroom, the loud scramble of feet heading into my roommate's bedroom made me laugh. He'd probably stayed up drinking a second bottle of wine by himself and was walking around the apartment naked or up to another of his usual drunken tricks. Shocker.

Back in bed, I contemplated getting up early and going for a run despite having another hour worth of sleep before the 6:45AM alarm. Turning on the television, I watched a few minutes of an infomercial for Oranglo and then woke up at 7:15, alarm blaring with Bill O'Reilly talking about his children's book on the Today show.

But something happened while I asleep. I had a dream, a really, truly weird dream in three acts.

Act I

The dream opened in my old church in Danville, Mt. Vernon Methodist. I was at church with my sister, dressed as a complete stereotypical rock n roller. For some reason, this really dorky kid, who I grew up with but never really hung out with b/c his dorkiness included wearing Star Trek uniforms to school assemblies and playing with light sabers after the age of 12, kept harassing me the whole time, all the while ensconced under the protective arm of his father. (*Note* In this dream I'm like 16.) Finally, my sis and I had enough of his antics so she casually said over her shoulder, "Leave my brother alone." He said something to her and she got mad. I was infuriated so I leaned over and said, with quiet intensity, "If you don't shut up, I'm going to punch you in the p*ssy." (What does that even mean? Even I don't talk like that but it was just so vulgar that I had to include it here since I remember that part so vividly.) Then I had this really strange conversation with my piano teacher about the numbers from Lost matching up to algorithms produced when playing Mozart's fantasias.

Act II

I was actually a member of a KISS cover band but we just wore the makeup, not the whole outfit b/c that just wouldn't be cool. I remember saying, "That'd be like Boy Scouts who wear the uniform AND the socks." (I've actually said that very phrase in real life.) I was rocking the bass while, oddly enough, Claire, the pregnant woman from Lost (sans pregnancy however,) played all of the Ace Frehley parts of "Detroit Rock City" with ultimate precision.

Act III

Flash forward (?) to the practice space where I was hanging out with Claire and talking about music and how we were really going to "rock out" to this one song in our next show. We even choreographed a little bass and guitar "rockstar move" as a signal to know it was time to let fly the musical fury. Just as Claire started to put on her Ace Frehley makeup, Paul Stanley, or at least a Paul Stanley look-alike, bursts into the room and declares it Rumble Time. It turned out this guy was in a KISS cover band with his other three identical quadruplet brothers, called Paul and the Stanleys, which dedicated themselves to Paul's solo work and only the songs he wrote with KISS. Then I woke up just as Paul #1 was about to throw the first punch.

What a weird dream.