Are your dreams in color? Mine are in Disney.
This is not a dream journal. That is, not normally. Although it has always been a dream (pun intended) to have a journal dedicated to the dreams I dreamt, but it will never be so. To have a dream journal one must actively remember their dreams and have the desire to write upon awakening. Since my dream retention is atrociously inferior, and the farthest thing from my drowsy-mind is to disturb my crusted eye-booger debris and exhausted body to write; it limits my ability to keep one. That is not to say that all dreams fall under this category. There are those that are worth remembering. The dreams that percolate deep and massage the creases of the brain, orchestrating a dream-reality syndication of the mind. I had one of those dreams last night. While those dreams appear surreal to the dreamer, it is often difficult to convey the same emotional intensity and excitement of a dream to an audience. Nevertheless, I will try.
Similar to the death of a hummingbird, my eyes fluttered shut until movement had been extinguished. I awoke to find myself at my family home handcuffed and awaiting President Obama’s arrival. I was ecstatic! My entire family was there to witness the occasion.
There was a knock at the door.
I jumped up and ran to the door, the handcuffs clinking together as I twisted the knob and opened it to find two secret service agents. My eyes widened as I gazed past the two men in hopes of seeing a third individual, but none were present. They informed me that the president would not be able to attend the event today. Highly disappointed, I pressed the issue for a more substantial answer, but I was not obliged in my attempt. They apologized for the inconvenience and mentioned that the president organized something special for me in his absence. My eyes widened and my pulse began to race at the same speed as my mind. The possibilities were endless. (I mean, it is the president. While we may think of him as a puppet, I am sure he is able to pull some strings too.) The two men bid me adieu and that was that.
After a short period of waiting (I am assuming. In a dream there is no downtime.) I heard my mom call me out into the front yard. The rest of my family followed me out in hopes that the “something special” would be forgone no longer. I was just about to ask my mom what she wanted when music began to play and fireworks were snap, crackle, and popping to the music. It was Disney music. Moments later, limousines pulled up and out of them came beautiful women dressed as princesses. I recognized some of them. I raised my cuffed hands and pointed at the ones I knew, laughing as they danced about and then lined up. The music quieted down and the fireworks came to a halt. I walked over and stood in front of the princesses. I scratched at my head, trying to make sense of the matter. A full-on smile crept over my face, but I was not sure why. I have never been a big princess fan. Sure, if I am at Disneyland I’ll stop in and say hello to Ariel or Jasmine, but that is the extent of my princess fandom. I began to make jokes and tried to make everyone at ease. It was a cute, but a failed effort. I was the only one who did not seem to know what was going on. I was excited at the prospect that I would be able to choose one of the women for some fantastic date. I turned to look towards my parents and said, “So do I get to, uh, choose one or something? I am confused on what I am suppose to be doing…It seems to me some details on my appropriate action have been left out. What am I suppose to…” Before I could finish my sentence the women were whisked back into the limousine and drove away.
The music began to play as the limousines rounded the corner, but it was not the same music. It was the music heard during the climax of film in which the evil-doer had the upper-hand. The limousines pulled along the curb. The girls pounded at the windows. They were now dressed in ragged clothing and chained together. The driver’s door opened slowly. Stepping out from it was Scar from Lion King (one of my favorite villains). He did a quick theatrical pace that was synchronized to the music and then drove away.
I continued to stand in amazement. I was not sure if I was supposed to act or not. Was I supposed to undertake the hero role and attack Scar? I was so entranced in what was going on I had not acted and let Scar drive away with all the women. While I stood in a state of thought, wondering if I was supposed to mane up (another pun) to Scar, the limousines rounded the block again. The music changed to a quick-paced score. The princesses leapt out of the cars and rushed into a line. One stood off to the side. She was one that I recognized. A beautiful girl with long flowing locks of chestnut, and deep captivating green eyes. She seemed to be in some type of distress. The princesses urged me to help her. I anxiously approached the woman. I lifted by linked arms over and around her, pulling us together. The music faded into the song “Kiss the Girl”. As our eyes met, I leaned in for a kiss. It felt so real. As real as any kiss I had ever felt in a dream. It was perfect. We began to twirl as our lips met. Everyone was just watching with a smile. When the kiss ended, the princesses said aloud in a pleasing voice, “So, what do you think?!” People began to applaud. The princesses took to dancing once more, fireworks displayed their finale, and then before I knew it everyone and everything was gone.
The sun was no longer shining and I was left standing in my dark front yard, trying to recover from what had happened. My arms were no longer wrapped around anyone and instead swung sadly at my waist. Where had everyone gone? The bliss I had just experienced had vanished. The fun and excitement that had filled the air, gone; my family and friends, gone; the special girl I had kissed, gone. I walked inside to find my family already asleep. That was my sign. It was like the lights coming on after a concert, the show was definitely over. I unlocked my handcuffs and plopped on my bed and once again my eyes fluttered with the same intensity as the last breathes of a hummingbird, until I was still.
Posted on March 28, 2012, in Uncategorized and tagged blog, Blogging, comedy, Disney, Dream, funny, haha, Journal, Lion King, Music, Obama, Personal, President, writing. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.