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Dreamweaver

A friend of mine is dating this guy who is a bit, well, super earthy. He’s an alright person, generally speaking, but the patchouli can be detected before he enters the room. He also claims that he can interpret dreams. When the group gets together for a gathering, like a game night, he’ll ask us all if we had any memorable dreams lately. “The memorable ones are the ones you’ve gotta look out for” he says. 

At a recent game night, while I was pondering my hand for my turn at Scrabble, Dreamweaver asked me about my recent dreams. I hadn’t had any out of the unusual dreams lately, just that recurring one where I keep getting a dollar on The Price is Right wheel--Dreamweaver doesn’t own a TV, so I never tell him about this one. I decided to see just how far Dreamweaver could go with this skill set and started making up dreams on the spot. 

“Oh, well the other night I dreamt that I was swimming in a pool full of gelatine while being given swimming advice from the pet Goldfish I had when I was 8” I said. Dreamweaver looked at me and said “Ah, yes. That means you’re inadequate at satisfying your lover. Also, you might be impotent. Keep some sage and a tangerine in your sock drawer to increase your potential.”  

“Golly gee. Thanks.” I said. I played my word, then turn moved to the friend on my left. No one else at the table that night wanted to talk about their dreams--maybe since the fake one I created just landed me in the den of impotence. Yet as the turn came back to me, Dreamweaver was just as curious as ever. I decided to throw another fake curve ball at him, one I thought would be really out there as I’m a student of Pop Culture and Dreamweaver is not. 

“Yeah, I’ll tell about this recurring one I have” I said, Dreamweaver’s eyes lit up. “I dream that I’m this little red creature with a yellow cape, and whenever I feel this glow of a light around me, I have a compulsion to take people’s money--and laugh at them while I do it.” I was describing what happens whenever someone would hit a Whammy on the old game show “Press Your Luck.” 

“Ah! This makes the other dream you told me about make so much more sense. You have a God Complex!” Dreamweaver told me, “Yep, a God complex, AND impotence!” I stared at Dreamweaver for a few moments, then I said “Oh, gosh. I can’t think of a word. I’d like to pass my turn, and hey, is that water running? Must be the upstairs bathroom. I’d better go check that out.” I went to the upstairs bathroom, made noise, and hid out there for half an hour. At least I think it’s been half an hour. I’m writing this out on my phone and I’m not sure if it’s safe to go back down to my den yet. Send pizza.

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