The Time We Were All Spooks in New Zealand

Last night I dreamt that I was a teenage foster child in New Zealand and may or may not have been a character in a TV show. Our seaside town was infested with creatures called spooks, which were a bit like vampires, a bit like witches, and a bit like ghosts. Lon Chaney worked at the school. I really liked this attractive boy at school who was probably a spook, so I really went all out to be a sexy witch for Halloween. (Do they even celebrate Halloween in New Zealand like they do in the States?) Come to think of it, most of my human friends were trying to date spooks. They were just so much hotter than regular guys.

Then I woke up (in my dream) at 3:25 a.m. and decided to get ready for Halloween early because school started at 7:00 a.m. or something, and I wanted to look hott. I stuffed myself into a purple satin bodice with black lacy trim and was trying to decide whether tight jeans and tall black boots would complement the outfit. Suddenly my foster brother—who was tall with dark hair, and very annoying—popped his head in my room. I squealed and pulled something in front of me since I was only partially dressed. He wasn't fazed at all and said our foster mother wanted to talk to me, and, by the way, nice butt. I ended up turning the purple bodice into a long ballgown for Halloween.

Meanwhile, Lon Chaney met with the king of the spooks in an underground cavern and gave some information about the humans in exchange for being turned into a spook. The king, his queen, and the court were all wearing overly elaborate faux macaroni costumes like the people in the Julia Roberts "Snow White" and in Once upon a Time and some Tim Burton films I don't want to think about. The king thanked Lon Chaney for the info and then let his face be melted off by a yellow light.

I think my foster mother must have told us about the plot because soon it was evening and my foster brother and I were dressed in the same elaborate costumes and giving rides to the huge town Halloween gala in elaborate carriages with orange and gold curlicues hanging off them.

I saw my foster brother turn around in his carriage and talk to the fancy-dressed passengers, and I realized he was a spook too but he was somehow trying to stop the spook king or something. I turned around in my carriage and tried to convince my passengers to help. I also realized around this time that I was a ravishing redhead.

We entered the gala, which held in a huge mansion that had expansive grounds lit with torches and fireworks overlooking the harbor, like big party near the end of the 2002 The Count of Monte Cristo. The queen of the spooks showed up and then the she grew to an enormous size like Ursula in The Little Mermaid except she was like this bawdy pastiche barmaid with beauty patches and loose underwear. She stumbled around, and we ran from her feet.

Lon Cheney in the cavern still wasn't dead yet even though his face was all melted, and the king drew this shining sparkling green wooden stake and told Lon Cheney he had passed the test and then jammed it into Lon Cheney's chest and the cavern filled with sickly green light and Lon Cheney shouted in triumph because he was going to be a spook.

The king showed up at the gala and he grew enormous too and put on a dress and the mask of a pantomime dame and then he and the queen danced around grabbing each other's derrière, and I was like, What's the mask for? We all know you're the king of the spooks already because you just grew enormous in front of our eyes, and then I realized I was probably also a spook, and then I woke up.

The Time My Dead Grandpa Took Me on a Tropical River Adventure

This morning I dreamt that my dead grandpa (who was alive, very tan and muscular, and in his forties or early fifties) took my brother and I on a boat just like the African Queen through the Indian subcontinent. We were trying to get to the Ganges, but we were on another river in India. It was very hot and humid. The scary part was that the river had these massive rapids even though we were on a big rigid boat with a canopy and everything. My dead grandpa loved it: he was swinging off the posts of the canopy and yelling "Yahoo!" And then I woke up.

The Time I Fell in Love with My Serbian Mentor

I was an adult in the dream, but the above picture was too lame to pass up!

Last night I fell asleep in my clothes on top of the bed with the light on, which I haven't done since my early-morning Seminary days, and dreamt that I was a princess. I was the youngest of several daughters, and my parents always dressed me in light purple, while my other sisters each had their own color. I spent a lot of time skipping around the palace listening to my full satin skirts swoosh around me and watching my diamonds glitter in the mirror.

I had this middle-aged Serbian mentor, and then I fell in love with him in true Eliza Doolittle/Jane Eyre/Francie Stevens fashion. My family was not happy about that, so they tried to keep us apart. I snuck away from the palace and tried to get to him at a fancy hotel.
His room was at the top of a truly spectacular steep, wide flight of red-carpeted stairs with gold-and-green embroidered risers that had little handles of the same fabric handles attached at an interval. I started to climb up them, but when the majordomo (a.k.a. my father's flunky) saw where I was going, he ordered that the stairs be collapsed like high-school bleachers. As the tread swiveled and the stairs steepened, I rushed up, clinging to the edges of the stairs. I could see my mentor on the landing far above me, but I can't remember his expression. Finally the stairs became a flat wall, and I hung on the fabric handles. I wanted to climb the wall, but I had no arm strength. The seams of the handles started to rip, and I was forced to move to a lower handle.

That handle started to rip, and then I woke up to see the clock said 2:36 and had a minor heart attack because I'd obviously missed my meeting at 1:00, and then I realized the light in the room wasn't sunlight and I felt better.