Maybe my phone is just broken, because I know for SURE that February only has 28 days. I remember because it’s black history month and my friend made a totally smart joke that white people gave black people the shortest month of the year, and at first I laughed, but then it made me think, and then I wrote a song about racial injustice because I totally get it now, and am totally against the government being unfair to blacks and gays and school teachers and all that. And corporations suck.
I’m getting sidetracked. So anyways…February 29th? Not possible. Then I realized what was happening. I was being Inception’ed.
You know, like the movie with Leonardo DiCapro where he goes into peoples’ heads and makes them dream stuff and puts ideas into their head? That’s what’s going on. And they were very thorough in recreating my reality for this dream: my curtains, my sheets, the couch I stole from my ex-girlfriend’s boyfriend with the mystery stain on the side, they even knew the exact negative balance in my checking account and that I don’t actually own any underwear. Someone did their homework. But looks like they missed one obvious detail with the calendar.
Here’s how else I know I’m actually dreaming:
I’m abnormally groggy, I went outside naked to test it and everyone just ignored me, I tried to run but just like in my nightmares I could only run a few feet before needing to stop for a cigarette, and on this blog there are over 100 comments on a post a 90-year-old lady wrote about her grocery store’s yogurt selection. I mean, come on that’s just weird.
Here’s how I know someone ELSE is controlling the dream:
I can’t fly, there are no girls in bikini’s with huge boobs feeding me things dipped in hummus, I don’t have X-Men Wolverine claws that play bad-a music when I stab people, and there are only 3 comments on my article about how to subtly tell your girlfriend she’s getting fat. Someone apparently is “subtly” telling me I suck through my dreams (see the word play I just did there? I’m smart than you think, dream invaders…). If I were controlling this dream, all of those things would definitely be present.
So, someone is trying to steal things from my mind. Probably my music and poems. Well, they are going to fail. I have a dream catcher above my bed, and I’m determined not to open any safes or learn anything new at all today.
Suck it, Leonardo DiCaprio. Suck it.