spiderwebs...in ray charles head (or on my head)

from the evening of january 17, 2011

Yes, folks for the first time in over two months (TWO MONTHS!) I had a dream. And it's a little on the crazy side, so living up to the expectations of all of you...hopefully!

So I'm with my Mom & Dad & Sister on one of those good ol' family vacations. We are headed to some sort of wooded cabin type situation. We are all our current ages (or what they would be), yet I have the attitude of a 14 year old boy. You know the whole 'on a vacation with my stupid family when I could be lying around at home doing NOTHING! jeez, thanks for ruining my summer...GAWD!'

So we get to this cabin type place and it is filled with really sinister characters who I'm not pleased to be around. But before you can say "gay boy who cried wolf", no one is really believing me that they are sinister. And why should they? When you're the jerk complaining about having to go on a holiday, wouldn't ANYONE you encounter seem like an annoyance. Just a thought, dear subconscious, just a thought.

I can tell all these evil doers are in our midst, and that they have a master plan, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is. That is until, you know, the spiders start crawling over my face.

Yep, I'm lying in the cabin suddenly, almost asleep and there are three or four tarantulas crawling on my face. Just havin' a good time, stepping in my eyes and shit. I know The Sinisters have planted them here.

I scramble to my feet, get the arachnids off me and notice that the place is crawling with them. And I keep walking through all their webs, which are more like the cocoons that those kind, cuddly aliens from Aliens wrapped their pray in. I'm literally running into them, getting free, brushing more tarantulas off, and then repeating. Every few steps. No one else at the camp is concerned, because they're more than likely responsible.

I then have a beautiful, good old fashioned panic attack. Where I can't breathe and can't see and need to put my head down between my legs in hopes of recapturing sanity. Again, no one is concerned. Sorry, correction, it's not that they're not concerned. They're just concerned that I keep lying about things. Can you believe? How RUDE!

Except one person who believes me. Me Dad! He pats my back and makes me feel much better about everything until I'm able to stand on my feet again. But once I'm standing up the view is anything but pleasant. Because everyone is pointing at me and yelling things like "faker!" and "phony" and "bucktooth princess!" (I made that last one up, because I think it would be really funny to be called that).

So then I do what any normal person would do, I see another tarantula and fake another panic attack. THIS will make them believe me! Except with all things faked (even by an actor as distinguished as moi...i've been in community dinner theatre you know), it doesn't come across as what it's supposed to. It appears as though tarantulas have now caused me nausea instead of fear, and it's more like fake retching with a few whimpers thrown in for effect. Even my Dad leaves me hanging, shaking his head at the fact his son didn't turn out to be as good an actor as he had been.

THE END