Odd Dream
A couple of nights ago, I had an odd dream. I dreamt that aliens invaded the Earth. Their plan, apparently, was to land, exit their ships and begin killing us all off with their great physical strength and agility in hand to hand combat. The only problem was that, in what I assume was a slight miscalculation on their part, they were only about 14 inches tall and kinda flimsy. They were also basically an amalgam of every movie alien you ever saw. They were black, slimy looking, had sharp teeth, long claws, with large eyes. In fact, they’d be quite scary were they not 14 inches tall.
So, in the dream, a gaggle of aliens (which in my dream land, a gaggle is apparently what you call a group of aliens) was gathered in my drive way. I saw them from the window then went to the garage. I opened the garage door about 14 inches and looked at them. They then, doing their best battle scene from Braveheart impersonation, charged my garage. When they got about half way up the driveway, I hit the button to shut the garage. I could hear their little bodies bouncing off the garage door. Then, silence. After waiting a bit and hearing nothing, I anxiously, and with a feeling like when someone does something stupid in a movie when a serial killer is on the loose, opened up the door. To my surprise, the collision with my garage door killed them all. So, not only were they small and considerably weaker than they calculated, they weren’t too bright. My dog was in my garage, and I commented to the dog that it was amazing this race of alien ever mastered interstellar travel since they weren’t too bright. He looked at me and said in a deep voice with a heavy British accent that he knew they would come and he’d been preparing me for their arrival. We then went and spread the word about their stupidity and that they could be lured, like lemmings, to suicide by garage door. Humanity was saved.
And, yes, whenever I have a dream where my dog talks, it’s always with a deep voice with a British accent. And for some reason, I’m never surprised by the fact he can talk.
February 16th, 2006 at 10:48 am
Mmmmm…… beer.
February 16th, 2006 at 10:48 am
Huh?
February 16th, 2006 at 11:05 am
Duuuuuude… You gotta lay off the hot sausage before bed. Really. That shit’ll eat your esophagus right out…
February 16th, 2006 at 11:17 am
Sounds like you’re suffering from a bad fever.
February 16th, 2006 at 11:18 am
So…your dogs talked to you in the manner and tone that Speak talks to The Tick?
February 16th, 2006 at 11:24 am
Never thought of that but you’re right. That explains that part of the dream but not the rest.
February 16th, 2006 at 11:29 am
Someone’s been buying the drug stamps, I see…
February 16th, 2006 at 11:44 am
Your freedom is being threatened by your child (hence the strange, short beings). You feel if you just close your door to them, they won’t be a threat any longer. But the dog (your inner self) is telling you you should have known they would threaten you already and you should have been prepared…
February 16th, 2006 at 11:50 am
Barry, could be kid related though I don’t really fear my freedom threatened by the kid.
I should point out that I find it odd that nowhere in the dream was a gun involved, which you’d think would be the case with me. Strange.
February 16th, 2006 at 12:42 pm
Exactly. I’ll have to think about that one.
But the short alien = new child parallel is almost too strong to dismiss… Hm. Ponder ponder ponder…
February 16th, 2006 at 1:30 pm
Uncle, you told the joke wrong. It’s not a 14 inch alien, it’s a 14 inch pianist.
February 16th, 2006 at 1:32 pm
“in what I assume was a slight miscalculation on their part”
Supreme Commander Qwizzlesnort, the treacherous Earthlings are much larger than they appeared on the video screens!
February 16th, 2006 at 3:17 pm
“You tend to over-size and overly-complicate your problems. In reality, no matter how fierce they look, your problems can be easily resolved.
Your friends support you and try to help, but you still obsess over issues that you shouldn’t.”
Good.
February 16th, 2006 at 3:33 pm
I would have expected a gun, too. A Ruger 10/22 with a 50-round mag would’ve been perfect for such creatures.
But then a pump-action .410 would do the job, too. And not leave too big of a mess for you to clean up.
February 16th, 2006 at 4:00 pm
Sounds like a full-auto air soft would have done the trick. =)
February 16th, 2006 at 4:40 pm
Check your meds ….
February 16th, 2006 at 4:43 pm
Anchovies…it must have been anchovies.
February 16th, 2006 at 9:54 pm
I remember reading somewhere that research had shown that dreams are actually a random collection of thoughts going through your mind and not actually your body trying to tell you anything.
February 17th, 2006 at 6:35 pm
Manish:
What you say takes all the fun out of it, but it’s also true. Think of dreams as your brain de-fragging its hard-drive.