So last night I had a weird dream.
The weird thing about it was that it was a dream about how weird dreams are. Most of the time my dreams are relatively normal, about social situations, or versions of that forgetting-one-class-at-semester's-end anxiety dream. In this one, on the other hand, I was aware of the fact that I was dreaming, and that I knew dreams were weird, and my subconscious was deliberately trying to make the dream as weird as possible to reinforce that fact. I couldn't pick what was coming next; I could only watch each new thing come up and go, "Yeah, that's pretty weird, all right."
First I was at a basketball game in the old Chelsea High School gym, only with players wearing all sorts of different uniforms from different teams. The players were all shapes and sizes and races, and suddenly they all dropped to all fours and their heads turned into dog heads, which snarled at us. For some reason, we'd come down out of the rickety wooden bleachers. Then the dog-basketball-players kind of parted, though they kept growling at us, and Alton Brown walked onto the court and basically offered to be our tour guide, though I can't remember now where we were going. He led us out into the street, and I can remember thinking "Oh boy! Dreams are cool! Wonder what's coming next?" And then the damn alarm went off and I didn't get to see anything else good and weird. I tried to snooze my way back into the dream -- on rare occasions I can do that -- but no luck.
My dreams are really entertaining lof late. Wish my conscious imagination were that fertile.