20 12 2006

I had a very empowering (impowering?) dream last night. Not that kind either, you pervert. It made me wake up extra confident, like I was in a personal hygiene commercial or, if a woman, a douche commercial. They don’t really have those anymore, do they?

Anyway, it started with me at my high school, approaching it on some sort of prom night, by myself. I had already consumed one or two beers. I wasn’t really planning on going inside, and fortunately my friends Velma and Shaggy were in the parking lot, in their car getting high. Yes, Velma and Shaggy from Scooby Doo. Apparently we were friends in high school. Just go with it. I had to in the dream.

So I identify myself as “not a cop,” and take up a seat in the back of the car. Its like an eighty something Toyota Camry. They have a bong/pipe that looks like a silver slide whistle, and as soon as I got in the car Velma put it away because we were leaving. I wanted to partake, but not while we were driving down the road, so I waited. We ended up going to a Chevron and getting gas, and probably some other stuff too. We then went to somebody’s house.

At that point, Velma and Shaggy turned into Marge and Homer. Yes, from the Simpson’s. Like I said earlier, just go with it.

They were packing for a trip they were taking tomorrow. I still hadn’t gotten high, and it turns out that it was a good thing I remained sober. Besides the beer that is. Because at this point, I had done nothing illegal. Marge and Homer had.

It was then that the cops showed up at the house. Well, first, it was the night manager at the Chevron. He was claiming that we didn’t pay for the gas. How he found us I don’t know. Now I didn’t pay for the gas, and assumed that one of the people I was with did. Either way, I didn’t want any trouble, so I told the manager that it was a mistake and I would be along shortly to pay for the fuel. By the way, we were only a few blocks from the gas station.

So the manager leaves…he wasn’t Indian or Pakistani or Middle Eastern, which was weird. I usually dream in a world where racial stereotypes are the norm. But we were in Fountain Hills, so its understandable. Anyway, a few minutes later, the cops show up.

In my mind, it was the same cops that were on our asses at the Save Mart Center about those holes in the walls. Same cops, just different names. They were accusing us of all sorts of misdeeds besides the gas theft. Since I was the only sober one, I was trying to explain that I was on my way to pay for the gas as it was a mistake. That was not good enough for Officer Feeley. Yes, that’s what his name tag said. In the dream, at least.

So Officer Feeley (Not special delivery) sits Marge down on some outside patio seating (I don’t know whose house this was, it didn’t seem familiar…and it was not Homer and Marge’s house on Evergreen Terrace either, but a Fountain Hills-ish house) and starts hardcore questioning her. Now Marge being Marge, she cracks under the pressure, but for the wrong reasons. Officer Feeley gets his “Eureka, I’ve done it, I can arrest you now!” feeling, and it was at this point that my impowerment (empowerment?) begun.

Having watched this whole ordeal, I told Feeley stuff that would make any ACLU lawyer proud of me. Things like “Do not consent to searches” and “forced confession using intimidation tactics.” Feeley then tapped me on the chest, rather hard, and said “I’ll be watching you” like in a movie or something. I had won the battle. It made me feel good.

The bad thing is that Marge was guilty of all the things Feeley was accusing her of. Well, technically Velma was, but since she had morphed into Marge, I guess it carries over. However, I was innocent of the things Feeley claimed I was doing (drug use, pimping, etc). I had done nothing illegal that night, at least nothing a good defense lawyer wouldn’t be able to deal with.

So as Feeley goes back to his cop car, Homer and Marge go back inside the house. Something I forgot to mention is that when Feeley was questioning Marge, she had turned completely blue, like her hair. Skin and all. Also, I keep remembering something about red onion rings that were fried with no batter when I think about the all-blue Marge. Yeah, weird stuff. Anyway, I inform Homer that I’m going to head over to the Chevron to pay for the gas, but I decide not to go because Feeley is sitting outside, watching me like he said he would. At this point, if I were to drive, I could get a DUI technically. Feeley knows this, and screams such from his cop car. So I go back into the house.

Then I woke up feeling all confident. It was a good feeling. Then I fed the dogs.

The moral of this dream? I’m always innocent, even though I’m a liar. Or something like that..




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9 01 2008
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