Category Archives: Weird Dreams

There is no need for me to watch horror flicks or the news– my dreams are disturbing enough.

My Keanu Reeves Dream

For years I’ve had a recurring dream starring Keanu Reeves.

In the dream I am trying to get to him, trying to get his attention. We are usually surrounded by people at some event. They crowd around him like a Kool blockade I can’t quite permeate.

Who are these seemingly so important people keeping him engaged in their uppity conversation when all I want to do is have him glance in my direction so he can be lured by my humble eyes and kind smile?

I wake up feeling failed and lost. Once again, he doesn’t come to me. Doesn’t even look my way. There are no engaging exchange of words between us. No hand on shoulder. No walking off into the sunset.

Until last night. And the one a few months ago.

He finally looked away from his entourage long enough to see me among the bloodsuckers. He smiled at me. We danced like goofy kids underneath a string of glowing white party lights.

Last night we actually talked. We laughed like old friends catching up after too many years apart. And we embraced just the same.

I woke up with a happy, peaceful smile underneath the crisp bed sheets.

Dreams are the brain’s way of disecting our waking problems, make sense of them and problem solve. Although sometimes in their wake we are left feeling more confused.

Maybe Keanu represents my self-confidence. And now I am finally gaining ownership of it. Maybe he represents my fears and how I’ve begun to face and live with/overcome many of them. Or maybe Keanu just represents himself because I’ve had a celebrity crush on him since 1988.

Either way it was so refreshing to wake up feeling the happy ending to a too-long unresolved story. And being hugged by Keanu Reeves was pretty freakin excellent.

Reeves, Keanu

Keanu Reeves Hollywood 12/2000 By Armando Gallo


Do you have any recurring dreams? What are your interpretations? I’d love to hear your story…

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The Knaw of the Teeth

Last night I dreamed I was in a pale white corridor. There was no one there except me and the lion. I heard voices in the distance but didn’t see who they belonged to. But I knew they were there, just ahead.

The lion and I were hungry. I had somehow found a rabbit and killed it as I held onto its cold, white fur. My waking self doesn’t eat rabbits, or any mammals for that matter. But I’m thinking this was pure survival.

I tossed the rabbit towards the lion. A grand, altruistic gesture. Just when I began to smile in self-gratification the lion leapt over the rabbit and lunged at me. His teeth dug instantly into my neck. I could feel his warm breath on my skin. His coat rubbed against me as if it were a soft, hairy blanket.

“This is it,” I thought. “This is the moment right before you die.”

I wanted to scream to the voices. But I knew there was no chance of me leaving the lion’s grip. There was nothing anyone could do even if they were to appear at that very moment. The moment that would be the end of my life.

I thought about the rabbit. And I wondered why the lion chose me instead. But in a flash I knew. The rabbit would be there after I was gone. And my being gone meant no competition for the lion. No threat.

In those final moments I was not angry at the lion. This was not personal. He was only following his instincts.

That is the nature of the beast.


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It comes in threes. That’s what I’ve always heard and that’s what we seem to experience when it comes to deaths. First it was Philip Seymour Hoffman. Now Harold Ramis. Who will be next? I dreamed last night there was only one remaining Beatle. I didn’t have an image of Ringo so it must have been Paul. I’m hoping this is not a prediction dream. I’m hoping it has to do with perseverance or honing in on my creativity or whatever the cerebral cortex is having me work through at 3am.

A few days before Hoffman died I watched The Big Lebowski. Hadn’t seen the film since it came out in ’98. It was even better than I remembered. I could relate to the main character “the Dude” played by Jeff Bridges in his passive way of dealing with the world and the fact that my choice of drink in the late 90’s was also a White Russian. Another facet I loved about this movie was the way Hoffman made this little sidekick character, a personal assistant named Brandt, a memorable part to this cult classic. It further reiterated what an intensely talented actor he was.


A few days before Ramis died I watched Ghostbusters, one of my favorite childhood movies of all time. I’d been craving to giggle to Bill Murray’s kooky Dr. Venkman and Harold Ramis’s droll witty nerd banter. I turned on the cable (which I rarely do anymore) and there was my early evening fun snack. I could recite every line in this movie and still crack up seeing a gigantor apocalyptic marshmallow man.


Lately I’ve been singing “Let it Be” to myself. A lot. I don’t think this is because one of the two of the fab four is gonna travel to his star in the sky. At least I hope not. It’s just a damn good song to sing. And the lyrics “When I find myself in times of trouble/ Mother Mary comes to me/ speaking words of wisdom/ let it be” and “When the broken hearted people/ living in the world agree/ there will be an answer/let it be” really ease the anxiety of many a despair-induced circumstance. And perhaps it gives some kind of solace when the question is asked, “Why did this person have to leave us so soon?”

All answers come in their own time. Although it can be grueling to wait for them. Do deaths always come in threes? I don’t know but it sure seems to happen that way. I’m hoping no more news is good news. These legends of film, theatre, screenwriting, songwriting, and music will always live on through their art. And they make the 3rd rock from the sun even brighter.


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Last night I had one of my usual half-awake-half-dreaming 3am bouts.  These usually occur in the middle of a good dream.  When I’m about to sink my teeth into a blueberry cake donut or when I’m about to have my body willingly held captive by a dark, handsome stranger.  Forget about the times when I’m being chased by an evil, angry a-hole with a gun, a hungry alligator, a tidal wave, or since childhood a raging tornado or hissing snakes. Those dreams are allowed by the R.E.M. to conclude at will.  Although lately I’ve prevailed against such stalkers.  In one I actually grabbed the snake by its neck and threw it over a cliff.  In another I challenged the gun-slinger by getting into my defensive stance, looking him in the eye, and saying, “Don’t mess with me.  I’m a GREEN belt, mother f*cker!”

Since I’ve been spending more and more time on my writing, I’ve been waking up at this ungodly yet peaceful hour with various ideas.  Some for short stories, others about what my next line or scene will be in the novel I’m unhurriedly creating, and of course several for future blog posts.  Last night I woke up from a dream I now can’t remember and had an idea for a daily prompt.

You know those cheesy infomercials you’d catch at, well, 3am, like the Ginsu knife, Sham Wow, or the Snuggie (I have one don’t judge me)?  Well what if you wrote an infomercial but instead of the Ab Roller the product was yourself?  How would you market yourself?  What would you say?  What are the qualities you could offer that maybe someone of less sharpness, absorption, or snuggly-ness couldn’t?

Here’s what I thought of at 3am, or something close to it (the darkness makes things seem so much more awesome).  Cue non-accented male voice-over and bleak, black and white shots:

Are you tired of a bitchy friend or a nagging wife?  Wish you had a nicer neighbor?  What about those mean restaurant patrons or that guy who never picks up after his dog?  And those people who go on and on about their ailments, politics, or crappy job.  Well have we got a refresher for you! (Cue up-beat voice-over and crisp, colorful images):


My fortune at Chinese take-out tonight. Seriously.

Introducing Jenifer, the diplomatic Libran who is sure to bring positive vibes to any occasion!  She’ll be your listening ear.  She’ll laugh at your mediocre jokes.  She won’t hassle and will water your plants when you’re out of town.  She’ll be your partner on the loneliest of dance floors; she’ll sing decent karaoke and clap for you even if yours is not so decent.

But wait, there’s more!

Even with the crappiest of waiters she won’t make a scene.  And she doesn’t leave for a dog walk without at least 3 poop bags!  Her only complaint may be that she is tired but she will most certainly follow that with a “but I’ll just get a quick reboot later and be OK.”  You’ll never hear her start a conversation involving politics and if you start one she will most likely change the subject.  She loves her writing career/job/hobby and will gladly proofread you or your children’s letters and essays.

So don’t wait! Act now and receive Jenifer for the low, low price of inspiration and human companionship.  A handful of dark chocolates and a nice bottle of Chardonnay won’t hurt, either.  Order today!

(Cue really super fast kind of whispered voice-over with speedy, rolling text):

Discrepancies include and are not limited to: Little to no availability for phone conversations, sometimes doesn’t leave the house for days, occasionally wears pajamas til the early evening, at times just wants to be left alone, sometimes needs constant validation for her writing, may only snuggle for up to 5 minutes, avoids heavily crowded areas unless 1.5 to 3 glasses of white wine are consumed, requires monthly pedicures, daily intake of dark chocolate, eight hours of sleep with white noise, one hour of rigorous exercise, and reserves the right to be in a non-positive frame of mind one week prior to “that time of month”.

Blog now!

Note:  Wow, the The Daily Post at used my idea above (with a bit of a twist) for one of their Daily Prompts: As Seen on TV!

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