I Have a Dream... And It's Very Weird

I think that I can safely say that, at one point in time, we've all had really strange dreams. And I mean, some out-there dreams. I can't remember if it was my father or my brother who dreamt that the earth was being attacked by martians and the only way to save it was to offer them hotdogs covered in relish. Like I said, strange.

And I am not an exception to that rule.

Just the other day, I had a dream that my mother and father and I were going to the airport in Port Columbus in Ohio (since that's where I live) for some strange reason. And we got on the freeway to go to the airport. Now, where I live, it's only a twenty minute drive to the airport if you take  couple back roads, so right away, I knew I was dreaming. But that didn't lesson the apprehension.

So, we were driving on the freeway, and lo and behold -- a storm pops up. And, boy, is it a doozy!! I mean, there were gale-force winds and horizontal rain, but it wasn't a tornado. It was just a thunder storm. And we were in the process of crossing an overpass-cum-bridge. Yes, that's right: bridge. In my dream, somehow, we were crossing the ocean to get to the airport. And I was scared to death because the wind was blowing sea water up across the road and there was spray and everything. The sea water was this murky gray/green with white caps and foam gurgling across the car windshield and windows. And, somehow, I keep jumping from the back seat to the passenger seat in the dream. Like, one moment, I'll be in the back. Then, the next moment, I'll be in the front. Very strange.

Anyway, we finally get to the airport (which didn't seem much like an airport; more like a marina or something). Daddy drives us into the underground parking garage (which, to my limited knowledge, there isn't one at Port Columbus) and we park and get out. Walking into the airport-cum-marina thing was like walking into some sort of grand ballroom. There was gilding everywhere with mini chandeliers of red and gold and ornate craftsmanship everywhere. It smelled like burning candles, faintly, as if there were hundreds of them burning. There was a receptionist at a large mahogany and gilt desk to our left as we entered, and to the front right, there was this small circular opening into the churning sea surrounded by a golden railing with chairs inside, close to the hole. The woman behind the desk told us to sit there, and momma and daddy went a head a sat. I was far too scared to, so I was standing behind the gold railing, hovering behind my parents, shaking like a leaf because I was sure that any second the floor was going to collapse and we would all plummet into the ocean. Anyway, she brings us plates and then lays on the floor, reaches into the water, and pulls up and octopus and a shark (I think a shark - or an equally large fish). I tired to eat one of the legs of the octopus, but the cups kept sticking to my throat. 

And then, suddenly, it switches a little, and it's like I'm watching a TV news broadcast. There's an anchorman in a rain-slicker yelling over the howling wind, holding onto his hood so it doesn't blow off, soaking him -- although, that seems counter-productive, since he was already dripping. In the hazy background, to the right of the "screen", there's a Big Boy statute floating in the murky water, half submerged. People were hoarding into the airport/marina through this hanger door, and there was probably about a foot of water on the ground. There wasn't any sound, however, (at all, in the dream, I believe) it was like watching TV muted. I could see him gesturing - waving his left arm behind him. And when I looked at the people heading inside, they didn't seem alarmed or frightened. Instead, the atmosphere was festive almost -- kind of like a party. 

And I love Cher and her music!

That's all I remember of it. I don't know if I've just forgotten it, or if I woke up, but I can't remember anymore. And I have no idea what to make of it. I have no idea what it could mean. I can generally make the dreams make sense, but not this time. Even the monkey truck driver Cher impersonator made sense. I mean, c'mon -- a monkey who drives a big truck and dresses like Cher in the Turn Back Time video, that can maybe make sense... in some warped reality. But this... right now, I can't even wrap my brain around it. Like, at all. It's completely unfathomable right now.

Like I said: I have a dream... and it's very weird.

The Sound of Silence... Sounds Like a Mouse

I have no voice... yet again. It never fails: every single break I get, I'm somehow sick. This time, like whenever the weather changes, I have laryngitis. That means that I sound like a mouse that went to an Ozzie Osbourn concert and screamed all night. Or just kind of horse in any shape of the word.

And the thing that ticks me off the most is the fact that I talk. I'm quiet around people I don't know, but I'm a talker. I will talk about just about anything. And to save my voice, I can't talk. Because right now, I can't speak hardly above a whisper. A horse mouse whisper. That went to an Ozzie concert. And screamed. A lot. 

And, on top of that, too, I think I also have somekind of cold. My head hurts. Which is nothing new. I mean, every time I turn around,  I have a headache. So, yeay.... Not to mention, my throat is kind of sore, but I think that that goes along with the laryngitis.

I don't mean to sound bitchy, but really this is the only forum that I can "talk" in . And I want to talk. Every time I try to talk, Iget told to hush, and to save my voice so I don't compeltely lose it. Although, I've never completely lost my voice. I think that it might be kind of fun to actually lose my voice -- I mean, not even be able to talk; having the voice completely and utterly gone. But then, I really won't be able to talk at all -- and that would really frustrate me to no friggin' end. Because I'm a talker once you get to know me.

And I feel like I'm rambling. And I probably am. But this is the first all day that I've gotten to speak fluidly. And by speak, I mean, having you read.

And you want to know what else is weird? I can hear the sound of my voice in my head as I type this. It's so strange. It kind of feels like one of those movie voice-overs where the main character is narrating the story for the audience -- like they don't already know, right? Right. I mean, why do they do that? After all, the audience should know what's going on because they're watching it. Or at least, they should be.

Alright -- back on task. What was my task...? Or, more specifically, what was I talking about again. Because the whole hearing myself in my head thing is really kind of creepy. It's distracting. I think I'm having hearing my own voice withdrawls. Which is... equally as strange. I think that I might be a little freaky. Or, maybe it's just the loads of medication I've been taking to fight the cold that's currently warring in my body, fighting and slaughtering each other, slaying cells and virus alike. Wow... that was... darkly poetic. Maybe I should write when I'm sick more often. I actually kind of like that. Or, at least, I should write when I don't have a voice because I don't censor myself as much then. I can't talk it through outloud, so I just write it, regardless of how it sounds.

I need to stop thinking so much.

Or maybe not. Maybe thinking is actually a good thing. After all, I have some of my best ideas while I'm thinking. Some of them aren't so great, but most of my ideas aren't bad.

But that kind of goes without saying, ne? I mean, don't most ideas start with someone thinking about something? Generally, that's how it goes.

There are really times that I confuse myself. And that really worries me. I mean, how many people can say that they confuse themselves on a daily basis? Because that's what happens. I either over think something, or I don't think something through enough.

And, darnit, I really have to stop typing because I'm really starting to hear myself in my head, and bloody hell, I'm annoying.

Disney...? Yeah, Going to Suck More '- _ '-

First: let me start by saying, "Please don't get mad!!" The following is just what I happen to think, since all of my childhood memories seem to have been replaced by teenagers dancing on stripper poles at an award show for more teens and younger kids. And I dread the fact that images such as this will be recalled as childhood memories for my nieces and nephews. Very much dread. 

And that's not saying that Disney didn't ruin fairy tales already. After all, Cinderella was much more violent in the original Brother's Grimm story - complete with self-mutilation. Likewise, so was Beauty and the Beast and Aura Rose. I think that it would be needless for me to say that the brothers are rolling over in their graves whenever Disney came out with one of their stories. But that's kind of besides the point. 

Riddle me this, boys and girls: Did you know that Disney isn't going to make fairy tales for a while? One reason makes sense. The other is totally and completely ridiculous. It kind of makes me a little nauseous and embarrassed of our society. The first reason is that they want to broaden their target audience to include boys, and the fairy tales that they were churning out just wasn't cutting it. There wasn't enough action or something to keep their attention, I guess. I don't know -- to be honest with you, I think that the only Disney movie that ever fully held my attention was Beauty and the Beast. And that was because I could relate heavily with Belle. After all, she was a heavy reader -- a bookworm -- and always had her head in the clouds. And she didn't let any man influence her; nor did she bow to just any handsome face. She loved the "unlovable" and was rewarded kindly for that act. So, it teaches lessons on deeper levels as well. Or at least, I found lessons on a deeper level. 

Wow... tangent.... Anyway, the second reason is because girls in their target audience -- like 3 to 7 or 9 year-olds -- can't "identify" with the princesses in the stories anymore. Instead, they identify more with half naked, whoreish looking, slutty, sticks of women characters. Instead of teaching girls that they should be strong and independent (reference: Belle), Disney will teaching young girls to look, act, and become hookers. Disney is basically training the next generation of prostitutes... or sluts, if you prefer, because prostitutes have some dignity. 

I'm all for them wanting to include boys more in their thinking. Just as girls need to have positive role models that they see everyday in a public setting -- meaning on TV -- and face and overcome situations that they themselves may or mayn't one day face, boys need them as well. Put more strong male characters in that aren't either complete douches or so perfect that they don't seem real. Give the man some flaws. Make him a little temperamental. Make him kind of scared sometimes, because it happens. Make him more realistic. But when it comes to making the girls younger than my middle niece into the next guests on the Maury Show when they do a segment on "Teen Girls Who Dress Too Sexy", I have to hold down the bile that fights to rise at the injustice. 

Disney: you've given me heartburn. You've make my acid reflux return. Gee, thanks. And I was just getting back to chewing mint gum and sucking on mint mints. You suck. Pity that old Walt had to go off and kick the bucket. I'm sure that if he knew people like Miley Cyrus, et al, would become the next Disney superstars and developers would let little girls relate to skimpily dressed jail-bait, Walt Disney would have taken better care of himself. Maybe quit smoking so that he could have a few extra years to make sure that whomever took over postmortem wouldn't turn little girls into masturbatory material. 

My middle nephew, Stephen (falling asleep before school). I pray he will not buy into this disgusting fad.

My middle niece, Autumn. She'll be turning 10. Thankfully, she's missed the phase Disney is going into.

So, to the executives and developers at Disney: You all freaking suck ass. Instead of buying into that information, why don't you do something to try to change the way it's headed? Don't give the girls more barely dressed slutty role models. Give them instead a strong woman - and thus an eternally beautiful woman. Be brave. Stand out. Don't become white noise. Become the show. Become the legend. Remember what Walt would have done if he's anything like the man I've heard of him to be.  And maybe Walt was a whore-mongering bastard just like all of you are now. Ok, then. Become the company that I want you to be. Become the company that millions of billions of parents, teachers, aunts, uncles, and grandparents want you to be. Become the company that my generation and generations before me remember you as. Cover up the prepubescent breasts and too-firm butts, do away with "celebrities" that would dance on a stripper pole, get some girls who have a brain (and some damn writers who have one, too), and make the next generation at least partially ok. After all... I watched your movies as a little girl, and I'm not running around half naked rubbing up on poles and whatnot. None of my friends are, either. (And it's not just your fault, Disney... parents, you have a role in this as well, but that's a completely different can of worms that I'm not touching right now, because someone will probably hate me eternally... not that some of you readers out there in cyberland don't already...)   Instead of giving more Miley, give girls more Belle. And give boys some good ones, too. Because if I have to start criticizing you about your male character leads, we have some serious problems. But let's put a couple more Beasts in there, ne? After all, he always was my favorite prince; always did have a bit of a crush on him. But, unlike most of your other princes, Beast learns. He evolves. He's not a flat character or static in the background. He changes, and it's completely for the better. Just saying.

Random Thoughts for the Day

So, I've been in the car all day, and that means that I have had time to think. That's a scary thought. Anyway, I recently got a kitty (pictured right). There are times when I wonder if my Cleo misses her brothers and sisters and mother. I know that it's a strange thing to think about, but I do. And then I feel guilty about taking her away from her family. But then again, her family was a bunch of stay cats. They lived under the wooden porch at my sister's house. So, in retrospect, I've given her a "foreber" home (gotta love ICanHazCheezeburgerz.com) and noms and toys and boxes and "fedder-things" (or feather things, as it's really called). I shower her with lub and kissums and huggles and snuggles. So, she has, in essence, a better home than what she had before. But I know that if I was taken away from my family and put into a huge house, I would still be kind of sad. I would miss my momma and daddy and sisters and brothers.

So, when I look at Cleo, I have to wonder if she misses her family. Does she even remember her family? Or her momma? Or her brother that looks just like her (except Cleo has a couple brown spots in addition to her gray, white, and black colorings)? Does she remember being outside? Is she confused because now she's only inside? Is she happy that she's not out there in the cold snow? -- because in Ohio, we have snow on the ground already; not much, but enough to make a kitten's paws cold. And does she think that we - as humans - are her new family? Or does she look at us like Jack looked at the Giant when he climbed up the beanstalk?

And then, guilt about separating her from her momma and brothers and sisters aside, I got to thinking about what she thinks about. Like, when she looks at me when I'm doing something stupid or idiotic or just crazy, does she think that I'm the biggest idiot that she's ever met? Literally and figuratively? And when I'm sleeping, does she think that that's all I ever do? Because when I'm asleep, she generally sits on my shoulder, since I sleep on my side. Or when I sleep on my back, she sits on my chest. And when I give her treats, does she worship the ground on which I walk? Does she think that I'm the best person in the whole world? And when I have to yell at her or discipline her, does she feel bad? Or sad? Or does she get mad at me? Does she rebel against me like a defiant child would? Does she ever even understand what I'm saying? Because, when I talk to her, and she responds with her darling, weak, little mew, I always wonder if she's understanding what I'm saying. Because I know I get really freaking excited whenever she responds. I think that she really gets what I'm saying. But then I have to remember that she's a cat, and she's probably just mewing to mew. But I always have this hope in the pit of my stomach -- this strange,delightful feeling -- that she really does understand me. And she's thinking about what I'm saying and responding accordingly. And that makes me very happy, because I really do love my kitten. I want to squeeze her in a hug, but that wouldn't be very nice -- after all, she needs to breathe, too. But I just want to scoop her up and cuddle her.

And that, my friends, is that. Therein lies my entire train of thought for today. Yeah, I'd be scared too if I were you. I'm personally a little afraid of what runs through my head. Maybe one day, I'll tell you all about the time I was sick, too  some NyQuil, and had a conversation with my Freshman Dorm Roommate about how pants are always plural... maybe.