Dream Analysis: Part 1

Some people are really into dream analysis and interpreting the true meanings of their subconscious while they are unconscious.


Not me.
It's not that I don't believe in it. I think our dreams do tell us a lot about ourselves. I do not think they divulge dark secrets about our innermost thoughts, that's for the movies. But I do think our dreams help us visualize the problems that we cannot pinpoint during our hectic, conscious times of wakefulness.


It's not that I don't remember my dreams. On the contrary, I remember almost all of the dreams I have, at least towards the end of my REM cycle. No, the reason I do not spend a lot of time analyzing my dreams is because most often, they are too effed up to analyze. Sure, I have the occasional dream that I'm pregnant or that someone near and dear has died, but these dreams are a rarity. Most often, my dreams cannot barely be put into words when I try to explain them to my bewildered roommates the morning after.


Because of this, I thought that I might begin an installment of some of my most peculiar dreams, for you, my dear readers (i.e. my Dad). This whole idea began with a dream I had a couple of nights ago.


A couple of nights ago...
I can't remember how the dream started, but the end I can still visualize as clearly as the night I dreamt it. I was with some undistinguishable people and we were staking out Voldemort. Yes, you read it. He Who Must Not Be Named. He was in a sort of cave with some other bad guys, who I assumed were Death Eaters. They are not important though. Voldemort was very much the focus of this particular dream. Myself and the other Good Guys with me were peering in through a sort of hole and looking in on Voldemort.


Then, in the way that dreams often do, everything sort of shifted and I realized that Voldemort was possibly the same as Osama Bin Laden, at least in my dream logic. I don't really know. This was one part that confused me a lot, so perhaps it may be useful to do a quick compare and contrast.


Real Life

• Public Enemy Number 1: Osama Bin Laden
• Popular Bad Guy Hideouts: Caves (well I guess heavily guarded mansions, but just go with it)
• Recently Conquered Public Enemies: Osama Bin Laden
• Osama was able to virtually disappear for almost a decade
• Osama used jihad on innocent people 
• Osama hated non-Muslims     

Harry Potter Life

• Public Enemy Number 1: Voldemort
• Popular Bad Guy Hideouts: Murky places or anywhere less than desirable
• Recently Conquered Public Enemies: Voldemort
• Voldemort could actually disappear
• Voldemort used magic on innocent people
• Voldemort hated muggles

So I guess my subconscious wasn't that far off and was actually pretty insightful. Anywho, BACK TO THE DREAM.

So here I was with the Good Guys, peering into Voldemort/Osama's cave. Then all of a sudden, something we did (which at the moment escapes me) caused all of them to come running out of the cave. Once again, everything shifted, and kittens came running out from under my bed. 

At this point you may be a little puzzled, but allow me to give you some background. For a week prior to having the aforementioned dream, I had agreed to foster some kittens. FERAL kittens. In short, they were terrors. They literally destroyed everything I loved (ok maybe that's a little dramatic but they ATE MY FUCKNG BAMBOO. Bastards). It got to the point where I had to lie about my roommate's allergies to make the crazy cat lady take them back (that's a story for a different day). So even though the kittens were gone, I was still having anxiety about them. Even now i keep thinking I see them out of the corner of my eye. 

So that is where I think the kittens came into the story, because all these little monsters did was hide under my bed and destroy everything. But something was still amiss, because the head kitten still looked like Voldemort, and was just as scary as Voldemort. Then I remembered a video I had seen that day and it allllll came together for me. Please watch the following video before you continue reading:

So in summary:

1. Voldemort and Osama are the same person, or at least strikingly similar
2. My subconscious wishes I was either friends with Harry or a member of Seal Team 6
3. Those kittens are taking more of a tole on my subconscious than I was aware
4. I should not watch videos related to kittens and/or Harry Potter before bed.  

If I Die Young

" A penny for your thoughts? Oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar. They're worth so much more after I'm a goner"

Can we just talk about The Band Perry for a sec? This stupid song has been stuck in my head for days, so I figured I would share it with you guys and try to iron out some questions I had about it.

This is the most misleading song and video ever. I didn't realize this until Nate a good friend of mine and I were discussing it. The song is about a girl dying at a young age and her peculiar burial requests. She wants to be buried in cotton, while at the same time she wants to be sunk in the river. Please tell me, The Band Perry, how can the same corpse be both buried and sunk?

The video goes on and the lead singer, who will from this point forward be referred to as the CHG (curly-headed-girl), is walking with the guys that are carrying her burial canoe to the river. That's right, walking. If she died young, HOW IS SHE WALKING.

At the refrain, CHG has now changed her explicit requests, and she demands to be buried in satin. Woah woah now, they already had to splurge on a coffin AND a burial canoe because of your misleading lyrics, can't you cut mama a break? River sinkings aren't cheap.

Wait, real quick. Can we all just take a moment to pause the video at 1:58 to look at that guy's face? You're welcome. 

Ok so back to The Band Perry's beautiful story. Somehow the possibly dead CHG climbs into her burial canoe and continues to sing her beautiful medley. Then, she seems to doze off until she is alarmed by the water pouring into the boat. 

I'm confused by her alarm. Did she not understand what "sink me in the river" meant? It's pretty self-explanatory. So when she feels the water pouring in, she bolts up not once or twice, or even three times, but four different times. We get it, CHG, no need for the dramatics. 

Then the song continues, and she sings that we should "gather up our tears, and keep 'em in our pockets" so that we can save them for when we need them. That gets me thinking, was this whole thing a sick joke? CHG's mom is clearly distraught throughout the video so I don't think they clued her in. If it's not a joke, maybe it's some kind of a rehearsal or run through, on the off-chance CHG dies young? Or MAYBE she really did die and was reincarnated.. as herself? 

I have no idea, but it's definitely something to think about. (No it's not)

Toilets of the Future

Whenever I take the Metra home to the burbs, I always make sure to make one stop before getting on my train. It’s not Nuts on Clark. It’s not the convenience store to grab a lady mag. It’s not even to buy a ticket (Holla 10 ride pass!) 

No. Whenever I go to Union Station, I always make sure to stop by their state-of-the-art bathroom. EVEN IF I DON’T HAVE TO GO. Allow me to explain. 

First of all, the bathroom itself is crucial. You have to go to the one that’s wayyyy out of the way. It’s past the Amtrak terminal and right by the ticket area. There’s never a line, which in itself is impressive. So once you get in the stall (that you didn’t have to wait for) you’re confronted by what you might expect to be a disgusting, overused public toilet. But nay, you are mistaken. Instead you are greeted by a toilet of the future. The toilet has this tube of plastic wrap around the seat and you press this giant red button and the plastic slides along, leaving you with fresh, unused plastic. It’s essentially a sterile toilet. Pure genius. 

But HOLD UP. You may be wondering where that old plastic went. EGAD! Does it just slide around and get reused over and over, leaving you with a false sense of security?? No. I know this because whoever invented this magic toilet explained in explicit detail that once the plastic is used, it is INCINERATED. Never to be used again. Rad.

The fun hasn’t even started though.

After you have relieved your bladder, without the cramping induced from squatting over the toilet, it is now time to wash your hands. The sink is nothing out of the ordinary, but the hand dryer. OH THE HAND DRYER. It is a Dyson Air Blade, aka the coolest and most functional invention of the new millennium. 

For those of you who have not had the privilege of using a Dyson Air Blade, it is this strange looking contraption that you slide your hand down into, without touching any part of it. It motion detects your hands and you slide them through a BLADE OF AIR. It is as cool as it sounds. 

Today while I sat on the train thinking about the Dyson Air Blade, I started to wonder why there aren’t more functional inventions like this, and why they aren’t as widely used. Why is there a new version of iTunes every three days? Why can I buy a phone that can surf the web and do my accounting and brush my teeth, yet I have to go to Union Station to use a Dyson Air Blade? It just doesn’t seem right. 

Yeah, Face Time is cool, but it can’t make my day the same way an awesome hand dryer can. Maybe that’s just me. 

OHMYGOD CHASE CRAWFORD

One thing that you, my dear readers, should understand about me is that I do not typically obsess over celebrities, male or female, except for Rihanna. (How could I not?! Look at that mermaid hair). BUT, I just watched this really depressing movie called "Twelve" and it was just mediocre, except for 

CHASE F*CKING CRAWFORD

When his beautiful mug first graced the screen my jaw dropped. I then proceeded to cream my jeans throughout the rest of the movie. That is all that really needs to be said about this film, as the pictures below do alllllll of the talking. I know I'm late jumping on this bandwagon, but now I see why people are obsessed with Gossip Girl. 

ENJOY.

Just... no. I just can't. His scruff is perfection.

But he cleans up DAMN good too.

REAL GOOD.

But I think I like him best with a dingy V-neck

 and a huge mound-o-mary jane in front of him.

That's all for now, but you can expect Mr. Crawford to be making some prettttttty frequent visits in the posts to come.

DOLL HOARDER. Nuff said.

Phyllis here is a sweet old lady that HOARDS FUCKING DOLLS. A&E claims she has hundreds of thousands of them. I doubt there's several hundreds of thousands of them, but there's at least 50k in there.

The creepiest part is that Phyllis sees nothing wrong with her "collection." She thinks they're a way to make her crazy batshit happy. Actually, no, the creepiest part is her doll hospital. She collects dolls, mutilates them, and sews their parts to other dolls. She gives one doll a hand transplant that closely resembles one of Kristen Wiig's infamous characters. To quote dear old Phyllis,

"People wait for donors, right? Like a kidney donor, right? Ok. What's the difference between my little doll waiting for a hand donor, right?"

Uh, hold up Phyllis. I can see a lot of differences there. For one, people don't donate hands. And second, dolls don't need transplants of any kind BECAUSE THEY'RE NOT ALIVE PHYLLIS. They're dolls.

Wait though, the creepiest part of this whole thing is really Phyllis's son. I can't really blame him, but whyyy is he still living there?

To watch the disconcerting videos and to see what Jezebel had to say about it, click here

Proclaiming my self-importance

Hello all of my soon to be readers. I have decided that my thoughts are important and should be shared with the world wide web, and therefore, I have started my own blog. I know, I'm ~too hip to handle~

This blog will mostly be dorky and slightly offensive and kind of just a stream of consciousness (as you can tell by my run-on sentences, which are totally acceptable as long as it's a stream of consciousness). As a college student, I inevitably spend a lot of time on the internet, and therefore find things that I think are funny or interesting. Some of these aforementioned things are just too interesting or funny for Facebook. They are deserving of a much grander and more sophisticated platform. Those things will find themselves HERE. On my ~blog~

This blog will mostly likely be comprised of stupid links, bad songs, and indecipherable ramblings, but if you've read this far I think we're going to get along juuuuuuuust fine.

To give you a taste of the good things to come, here's what I'm listening to this week (and by that I mean playing on repeat until I can no longer listen to it. Just ask my roommates).

WARNING: I'm pretty sure this video can induce seizures.