Freud would have a field day

When I promised y'all "pillow talk" yesterday, I fully intended to share some of the interesting things I've said in my sleep, but then it felt kind of redundant when I saw a posting on the same topic over at Dooce. So I'll save that one for another day. But so as not to reneg on my vow of pillow talk, I will instead recount some strange dreams I've had.

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I dreamt a couple of years ago that my childhood friend Doreen, whom I had not seen since high school graduation some 20 years before, showed up at my house to visit me and meet Jim. That's not so strange, because I'd known her since grade school. The weird part was her hairdo. Her hair had been cut into antlers. Think that's not distracting? I woke up before I could examine it as closely as I'd have liked.

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When we had Mickey, a German Shepherd/Norwegian Elkhound bundle of blundering doggie love, I had a dream that we had moved to a loft apartment in New York. Because we were moving from a house into a loft, we had to have a poodle instead of the relatively cow-like dog at the end of our leash. So, to fool the landlord, I shrank Mickey down to palm size and carried him in my pocket. Then, when we were safely in our apartment, I returned him to his normal size and gave him a "special" haircut. I mean really special. I gave the poor dog, in essence, a bouffant. That way, you see, he would blend in with the poodles.

Yes, in case anyone wondered, I do have a bouffant fixation.

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The strangest dream I've ever had in my life, though, came to me at about age nine. The first thing I remember is being alone in a huge, dark office building, much like the old building where my dad used to work downtown in Grand Haven, in the old Story and Clark piano factory. I was wandering by myself, and I steered toward the only light I saw, the panel on the elevator. It wasn't like a regular elevator panel; it was more like the cheesy depiction of a computer kerchunking away on the original Star Trek, with lots of colored dots flashing in random patterns to signify that processing was goin' down.

Before I could reach the panel, the elevator doors opened, and as the sickly light from inside the car spilled out into the dark hallway, two figures emerged and came toward me slowly. It appeared to be two people, but they were dressed as giant aerosol cans. What made it really freaky to me was that the lids on the cans were loose, and as they walked, the lids made a clacking sound that had me frozen in terror. The Castanets of Doom.

Next thing I knew, I was on a table in some kind of an operating theatre, and there was a mad scientist preparing to work his evil art on me. You'd think a mad scientist wouldn't have to send clacking cans to do his dirty work, but who knows what these fuckers are thinkin'? So, the mad scientist had abducted me for experimental purposes, and things weren't lookin' so good for me. I was rolled over onto my stomach (stop it, you guys -- I was only nine and not having those dreams yet), and I waited for it. . .

Oh my god, he put a joy buzzer in my ass! And I could feel it! It was perhaps the most vivid physical sensation I've ever had in a dream, and that includes all the ones about Karl Malden with a turkey baster.

I woke with great surprise and widening of eyes, and tried to shake the creepiness and disorientation of the dream. Thing was, I could still feel where that joy buzzer had been. Hmmmm. A thorough inspection revealed that one of the buttons in my mattress had come dislodged from the bed, and had somehow managed to lodge itself snugly in my ass.

Ah, for that kind of muscle control now.