Hey. Lots of directions you could go with this (because I like to be more versatile than that British boy band), but I guess you could divide dreams into two categories. “Ones where you move out and ones where you find a girlfriend?” No, mom. The literal ones and the metaphorical ones.
ASLEEP: There’s no other place to start than by describing to you the strangest dream I’ve ever had. I’ve had a dream where I gave Greg Oden a hug because he was too hurt to play basketball. And I’ve dreamed of being chased around an octagonal, South African snack hut by a killer bee the size/shape of a football, which eventually deathstung me in the face. And I’ve dreamed that I clenched my teeth so hard that I crushed my own head and bled to death out of my brain, all because I didn’t want to do math anymore. And I’ve dreamed that I killed a woman with a key so that Batman could steal her bike, despite having driven to her house in a Chrysler. And I’ve dreamed that Master Hand from Super Smash Bros. pulled a trampoline out from under me after I jumped a physically impossible amount of feet into the air, leaving me to fall to my doom somewhere near the Grand Canyon, but not actually in the Grand Canyon. And I’ve dreamed that Drake could rap. But this one topped them all.
The dream starts at summer camp, where all the kids are hanging out sans counselors. There was nothing strange happening, but maybe a small buzz of anticipation in the air. Then, some kids started to get up and look out the window of our cabin. Someone had pulled into the parking lot in a silver Pontiac Grand Am with tinted windows. We all knew who it was, so we rushed outside. The door opens and out steps none other than a seven-foot-tall Eminem with a thick, golden, chinstrap beard. He didn’t make eye contact with us because we were shorter than him, and he walked into our cabin. We followed him because we all knew he was looking for Dre, and we all knew that a rap battle was happening. It was going to blow our minds. Eminem didn’t say anything as he searched our entire summer camp cabin for Dr. Dre. Eventually, he gave up looking and got back into his car. My dream ended softly as he drove his silver Grand Am into the sunset in reverse.
The point I’m making is that everything is bullshit. Those all sound insane, but really? Those dreams are collections of things that actually exist, and also a talented Drake. There’s a lot of science to suggest that different types of dreams have different real-world meanings and implications. And some of the information online is actually fun and semi-informative. But let’s not make too much of what our brains like to do when we’re not paying attention to them.
AWAKE: These kinds of dreams are more like the “I want to be a singer like Avril Lavigne!” stuff that went through girls’ heads in the tie aisle of JCPenney’s during the summer of 2003. Still bullshit, but more in a you-don’t-get-to-decide-if-you’ll-become-famous sense. Yeah, Simon Cowell grants a wish or two every year, making someone’s dream come true. But what about the people who wanted to be in that person’s place, but can’t? They might not be talented enough, but if we’re being honest, fame hardly ever reflects talent. They might not have the personality to handle the fame, but if we’re continuing to be honest, there are some *pretty* douchey celebs out there. It definitely boils down to whether or not you can be sexualized; there are exceptions, but if you’re average-looking, you’ve got plenty of speed bumps on the road to fame. We’re only allowed one Adele at a time.
But the good news is that some people do what they do simply for the love of doing it. The number of letters in the last sentence equals the number of *albums* released by this guy. Albums. He’s known for wearing a mask and using a guitar to make you feel sexual feelings. That mask is important because it lets us know that it’s possible to follow what excites you without regard for the world’s opinion. The fact that Every. Single. Reality. Show. involves a group of people getting judged for their talents and being eliminated one by one every week says that we’ve created a society that turns life/happiness into a competition. But if you follow the Constitution’s suggestion and pursue some got-dang happiness every once in a while, you’ll win every competition ever.
What point am I even making? I guess just like sleep dreams, awake dreams are barely realistic amalgamations of things we’ve seen or experienced before. Understand why they’re there, and give them some thought, but also understand that you can live a fulfilling life without following them. We saw what happened to Leo when he got too involved with his dreams. BRRAWWWMMRMRRRMRMM
Thus, the pursuit of trivia continues.