While I figure out how to write up my colonoscopy story I'm going to repost a nightmare for you. If I were to recreate the following nightmare today I would probably add in a colonoscopy part. Overall it went well, I'm just lacking the right descriptive words for it. Back in 2010 I had this post idea. Take a list of things you don’t like then use them to describe a nightmare.
Nightmares are storylines of some great movies.
Here’s a lists of a few of my dislikes:
You might have trouble limiting the list since we all dislike so many things. Having trouble with your list? Start with a sharp stick in the eye. Nobody likes those.
The great thing about creating a nightmare is the randomness it allows you. So using the above items here I go. Sorry you can’t close your eyes because you need to read along but imagine me with my eyes closed deep in REM sleep.
Packing, running back and forth between rooms and closets trying to decide what I need for my big trip. Racing the nightstand clock.
It’s hard to imagine. I have never dreamed of being invited to the White House. Mind is racing thinking about how excitingly big this is as I layout my wallet, tickets and invitation letter.
Loud droning noise increasing in volume. It’s coming from just outside my window. A goon is in our tree blowing leaves off the branches.
I lean out the window to yell, I’m falling.
The sound is gone. I’m on my feet. I can move. I join my wife arranging the suitcases into the car trunk.
We are rushing to the airport. Circling the parking lot levels looking, looking, circling. No where to park. What’s that noise? Another leaf blower cleaning off a whole closed-off section of the lot. Damn.
Security lines. Large clock hanging from the ceiling, ticking. Crowded concourse that continues forever. Reach the gate. Flight has departed. We need to pay the gate clerk to change our flight. I can’t find my credit card. I search through my wallet emptying the insurance, library, driver’s license, Starbucks card. No credit card.
We are hungry. But have no credit card and little cash. Enough cash for the vending machine. I turn and am standing in front of a large vending machine. Cans and cans of tuna fish. Nothing but tuna fish. My stomach turns.
I commandeer the airport handicap transport golf cart type thing. The crowd splits in front us as I cruise down the concourse.
Now I’m on the tarmac heading for a plane. Wind blowing. Smell of jet fuel.
I scream. I smash the brake down. Blue smoke blows out from the wheels. Jet engine roars into view. Sounds like a supercharged leaf blower. We don’t stop. My neck muscles tighten.
The sun light slams into my eyes. I look up. A concerned flight attendant shakes me and asks if I’m OK. Do I need anything. I look at my wife seated next to me.
Nightmares are storylines of some great movies.
Here’s a lists of a few of my dislikes:
- tuna fish
- leaf blowers
- losing a credit card or ID card
- missing a flight
- not being able to stop something I’m driving
You might have trouble limiting the list since we all dislike so many things. Having trouble with your list? Start with a sharp stick in the eye. Nobody likes those.
The great thing about creating a nightmare is the randomness it allows you. So using the above items here I go. Sorry you can’t close your eyes because you need to read along but imagine me with my eyes closed deep in REM sleep.
Packing, running back and forth between rooms and closets trying to decide what I need for my big trip. Racing the nightstand clock.
It’s hard to imagine. I have never dreamed of being invited to the White House. Mind is racing thinking about how excitingly big this is as I layout my wallet, tickets and invitation letter.
Loud droning noise increasing in volume. It’s coming from just outside my window. A goon is in our tree blowing leaves off the branches.
I lean out the window to yell, I’m falling.
The sound is gone. I’m on my feet. I can move. I join my wife arranging the suitcases into the car trunk.
We are rushing to the airport. Circling the parking lot levels looking, looking, circling. No where to park. What’s that noise? Another leaf blower cleaning off a whole closed-off section of the lot. Damn.
Security lines. Large clock hanging from the ceiling, ticking. Crowded concourse that continues forever. Reach the gate. Flight has departed. We need to pay the gate clerk to change our flight. I can’t find my credit card. I search through my wallet emptying the insurance, library, driver’s license, Starbucks card. No credit card.
We are hungry. But have no credit card and little cash. Enough cash for the vending machine. I turn and am standing in front of a large vending machine. Cans and cans of tuna fish. Nothing but tuna fish. My stomach turns.
I commandeer the airport handicap transport golf cart type thing. The crowd splits in front us as I cruise down the concourse.
Now I’m on the tarmac heading for a plane. Wind blowing. Smell of jet fuel.
I scream. I smash the brake down. Blue smoke blows out from the wheels. Jet engine roars into view. Sounds like a supercharged leaf blower. We don’t stop. My neck muscles tighten.
The sun light slams into my eyes. I look up. A concerned flight attendant shakes me and asks if I’m OK. Do I need anything. I look at my wife seated next to me.
“Did I fall asleep during the pre-flight again.”
“Yes you did.” she says with disgust.
“Hey what did you bring to eat?”
“Tuna fish, want a bite?”