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dreams, foodstuffs and talking to myself

I had another in a long line of post apocalyptic dreams last night. This time, I kind of brought about the apocalypse myself. I was furious at the world and was walking around like a monster run amok, smashing down sign posts and tearing tree limbs from the ground with my bare hands. I didn’t talk or even scream; I just growled and roared and people scurried out of my way like I was Godzilla unleashed.

I came to rest at a supermarket (the local Stop ‘n’ Shop), where I laid down in aisle 6 (cereal, fruit bars and votive candles imprinted with images of Jesus and Mary. The candles, not the cereal or fruit bars). Anyhow, I fell asleep somewhere between the Apple Jacks and Honey Bunches of Oats and when I woke up my neck was stiff and everyone was gone. Everyone.

There was no sign of struggle, no dead bodies, no overturned shopping carts. Just silence and emptiness. I walked outside the store and the parking lot was devoid of humanity. Lots of cars, some of them idling. Filled carts, carts half emptied, a pair of boys’ sneakers next to an SUV as if a child had been lifted right out of his Vans.

I checked out a few nearby stores - a GameStop, a pizza place and a CVS just to make sure this wasn’t something that happened only at Stop N Shop. But the silence was everywhere. I walked around town for a bit, opening doors to homes and yelling inside for people. I ate a ham sandwich at one house and drank chocolate milk out of the container at another. And wiped my mouth on my sleeve.

In the dream, I kept thinking about Burgess Meredith in the Time Enough at Last episode of Twilight Zone. I waited for something to come and ruin my one chance to be truly alone. I thought that the only thing that could destroy my serenity was being hungry, so I went back to the supermarket and started loading up carts with non perishable food. Then I found the As Seen on TV Aisle and used the vacuum sealer and the food compressor to store as much fresh food as I could. I hooked all the carts together (at one point, I held up a box of Parmalat milk and said ‘what a great invention,’ the only words I said in the whole dream) with string and led a parade of canned goods and boxes food towards my house.

You would really like it if right about now I told you that all the can openers of the world just up and disappeared, just like the human beings and now I was left with barely anything to eat. Wouldn’t you?

Well, the dream ended abruptly, right there with me walking the chain of food down the street and I woke up wanting a ham sandwich and chocolate milk.

See, I know there’s a lot going on in this dream beyond the hoarding of food. It’s a whole “I need my space” theme which gets revisited again and again in my dreams.

Anyhow, I think I might turn this one into a story.

Speaking of stories, thanks to the few of you who have already donated to Friends of Iraq through ASV.

If there's anything I'm learning from this endeavor it's that things can change an awful lot in a few months.


I had a dream once where I had sex with someone and I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, which leads me to believe it was a man and my subconsious doesn't want my concious to know that it's gay. However, I'm a decidely straight man who doesn't suffer from homophobia so my question is a four-parter:
Does this dream make me gay?
If my subconcious is in the closet, does that mean I'm in the closet?
If indeed it does mean I am in the closet, is it possible to be in the closet and not know it?
If indeed it is possible to be unknowingly in the closet, can't I just continue being straight and let my subconsious dream its fruity dreams?

This is already a story. And a very good one at that. Mine don't tend to be that involved. Usually, they involve a random location from my childhood, people I work with, and maybe a family member or two.

Toss in dancing teddy bears, and you have yourself a LeenDream™

you remember every detail?? hell, I don't even remember what i dream about, much less detail. must be the drugs,,,,

i had a dream the other night that betty white got turned into a "polly pocket" figurine, and i (daring guy that i am...) had to save her and turn her back to normal size. and for some reason, instead of carrying her back to the machine that would turn her big, i made her latch onto my bangs and just hold on.

so....there it is....

This was a dream? Sounds like my life...


All the dreams that I can't forget have tornados in them. I always outfox them, somehow, but they always scare the living shit out of me in the process. It ain't stompin' spiders.

BTW, I have never seen a tornado.

I never did drugs (and to those who know me in real life, that is something they can't believe either), but I can't recall dreams. I can recall HAVING dreamt, but I can never tell you what I dreamt.