Pop Stars, Bill Cosby, and Zulu Warriors

I had a crazy trippy weird dream this morning. Yes in the morning, that's the only time I dream and yes I love mornings. Most of the time I purposely set ye olde alarm for the blessed hour of 4am so that I can drift in and out and above of conciousness for the next few hours. Because it is in those hours, ladies and gentlemen, that my brain unleashes pieces of my obscurity into my subconcious and it is fabulous.

This morning I sat in a metaphysical la-z-boy and watched myself dream pictures of death, destruction, pop stars, and Bill Cosby. The scene felt very much like Tim O'Briens rice patties in The Things They Carried, except this Vietnam was submerged by at least fifteen feet of water. It looked a lot like how the Big Easy looks right now, except a lot more bodies struggling and moving and floating, all tangled in sub-tropical foliage, rice, and bamboo.

I had the perspective of a camera man filming a big budget war movie, sort of filming myself and all the others but at the same time I could feel the current, the bamboo scratching my skin, and long leaves tangle between my toes. It seemed to make sense at the time but now I'm thinking it's odd that my mind seemed to occupy two different bodies at once. If it isn't weird already, here it goes.

Along with a large group of mostly male marine like people, we swam in two lines. The rear line, where I was, had no weapons, the front line swam above us and backwards, facing away from the shore. In their hands were stubby rocket-propelled grenade launchers that actually shot impressively large cannon balls.

In hot pursuit of our aquatic unit were Zulu tribal members armed with long bamboo spears. The sounds were impressive between the war screams and muffled reverbirations from the cannon balls. I remember feeling absolute terror as one of them grabbed hold of my foot and began stabbing it with the bamboo spear. I looked behind me and noted the beautiful detailing of this man's necklace, for moment forgetting that he was attacking my foot. I remember kicking as hard as I could and then all of the sudden I was sitting on the shore. And yes it gets even more strange.

Even though there was a 6 foot long piece of bamboo lodged between my toes, I decied along the beach passing Bill Cosby who was ailing from a predictament much like mine. Several men huddled around him attempting to pull out the bamboo. He grimaced and looked towards me as if it were my fault. For some reason I thought this was the oppurtune time to remove my bamboo. I remember actualyl feeling like I was removing a large sliver from my foot.

This is when I noticed that Jessica Simpson picking leaves out of her still otherwise perfect hair. I asked her if I could use her bathroom, since I apparently knew she lived close to this partially submerged, although populated, neo-Vietnam minus actual Vietnamese people and plus the Simpson family and Bill Cosby.
I walked into her door and entered a house that looked a lot like mine. I found the bathroom, though it wasn't in the same spot it is in my house.

My first thought was, 'yes, she is a really bad house keeper...this is disgusting'. Everything was dirty and looked as if it had never seen even a drop of Chlorox Bleach. That shit is nasty Jessica. I woke up after that. Dirty bathrooms are what made that dream a night mare.