Muppets Beanie-Baby Madness

I had this one a few nights ago and let it fester in my mind until a coherent story formed out of it.

It was Halloween night and we were visiting small towns with haunted wagon-rides and haunted houses. Many of the attractions had treat bags hanging from trees and houses. I remember one ride where we were running through the woods, trying to grab treat bags on the way.

When we finally got home, I saw that some of the bags had Muppets Beanie-Babies in them. I think I had Kermit and a few others. But the thing was: I didn't have all of them. This really upset my obsessive/collective nature. I kept trying to figure out how to get the whole set. This was a difficult task since these were not the kind of toys you could just buy in retail stores. They could be found in vending machines and goody bags and things like that.

I knew I had a busy day at work the next day, but I had to get them all. I was pretty sure I was missing Gonzo and Miss Piggy, but I didn't even know for sure which Muppet existed. So I got to work and, for some reason, everyone needed me to help them. I tried to set everyone up so they could do their work and sneaked out of the building.

I got down to the basement parking and into my car. As I was coming up out of the parking garage, I almost hit 3 men: my Assistant Commissioner, some other important man and Jean Chretien. All I hoped was that they hadn't seen me.

I thought about returning to the towns, hoping there might still be some bags left. But as I drove through them, I could see everything had been cleaned up. So I figured I'd go to the library and do some research on the toys. I could at least figure out which ones existed and maybe where I could get some.

As I was looking through some big encyclopedias, all the people I had ditched at work arrived at the library and came to talk to me. I just said I was doing research for work and a bunch of other lies.

I ran out of the library and started running through a field. Some of them started following me.
Then I woke up.

Tortured Kid in the Hall

It's time for another instalment of "Dodson's Dreams"

Someone had kidnapped my girlfriend's niece. The same guy had kidnapped her nephew a few years back. We'd had to do all sorts of weird quests and errands to get him back ("To get your nephew back, you must first..."). Though we did get him back in the end, we weren't sure this time we'd get his sister back.

It was a very distressing situation.

This time was no different as I remember us having to go to some gas station/truck stop in the middle of nowhere looking for some clues. Finally we had tracked him down to some Ocean-side Hotel resort and were there with a bunch of CIA agents. We figured he must have some sort of secret hide-out on a nearby island, so the CIA crew left for the island in boats as we stayed behind.

While they were gone, I discovered that the kidnapper was actually in the hotel: it was Bruce McCulloh from Kids in the Hall. (For those who don't know, Bruce is a pretty small guy). So I then proceeded to beat the living shit out of him for all the grief he'd given us.

Though he was a criminal mastermind, he was a pretty wimpy little bitch, and after a few hours of beating and torturing him, I was feeling bad for the little guy. His face was all bloody, his jaw broken and I had broken all his fingers. I was actually feeling like shit for having tortured this basically helpless little turd and couldn't bring myself to kill him, even though he deserved it. I figured I'd wait for the CIA team to come back: they'd kill him for sure.

When they did come back, it turned out they were Soviet Secret police working with him all along. They picked up the beat up little guy and whisked him away on their boat. I wasn't really pissed he'd gotten away: I was still feeling like a shit for what I'd done to him.

I woke up feeling like a bastard and the feeling stayed with me half the day.

I'm so gay...then I woke up

I woke up in bed next to Angelina Jolie. She was convinced I was her husband and wanted to make love. While I would've loved to do it, it felt wrong to do it under false pretenses.

I spent the whole dream being pursued by her around her house: me trying to convince her I was not her husband; her not believing me, trying to get me to remember I was her husband and make love.

She was starting to convince me...then I woke up.

My Syringe in a Box

Another unfinished quicky.


I was in the hospital, preparing the room for my pregnant girlfriend. I had to do something pretty simple, like putting a syringe in a box, but I was having a hard time doing it.

In frustration I decided to go and take a walk outside. But every time I left the hospital, reality changed: I would become some vampire-zombie hunter in a post-apocalyptic future war zone. I knew things had changed, but at the same time I didn't.

Trying to exterminate the vampires, I decided I needed a gurney, so I went back in the hospital (which was now an abandoned building) to get the old one I could see through the door. For some reason, I could see that the lobby was now an old rusted elevator.

As soon as I re-entered the hospital, reality changed again and I returned to the room to try and fit the syringe in the box.

Then I woke up...never having put my syringe in a box for my girlfriend.

I am not an armoire!

I ate some chilli before going to bed, so it's time for another "Dodson's Dream"©

I guess I'm easily influenceable. Last night I read a (fictional?) story about a guy who had a car accident in which his pregnant girlfriend died. He blacked out for a while and finally ended up in an insane asylum because he would hear her voice and see their dead baby stalking him.

A real chick-flick story.

Anyhoo:
I was back in University and, like always, it was a hotel party night. I remember I was getting tired, so I decided to lay down for a while, fully planning to return to the party after resting my eyes. Next thing I know it's next morning and I'm feeling really disoriented. I don't know what it is, but I know I forgot something and it's important. Probably something I did during the night. I think I'm in my hotel room, but I can't focus on who, if anyone, is there.

It turns out I'm not in the hotel anymore: I'm in an asylum and everyone thinks I'm crazy. Probably something to do with what happened last night. Wish I could remember what. Some of the people from University come to visit me and they're all being real nice and condescending to the nut-job (i.e. Me). One of the people visiting me was Alain (Chad met him once) some guy in my classes.

Then it was group therapy time at the asylum. Since Alain was visiting at the time, he came to the session with me. The "group sessions" turned out to be the entire asylum in a huge cafeteria. We were all sitting at those one-piece cafeteria tables-with-chairs, and I had Alain on one side and the Bender robot from Futurama on the other. The exercize we were doing was to have everyone write a sentence on a piece of paper and place it in a box. Then the facilitator would pick a paper at random and write the sentence on the black-board. Patients would then take turns changing parts of the sentence.

Alain was trying to get me to participate, because he thought this would help me get better. I thought this was really boring and wasn't paying attention until my sentence, which I had painstakingly written to be grammatically perfect, got picked: "L'armoire est rarement utilisée comme un commode". One of the psychiatrists was going around asking if we wanted to go up to the board and write changes to the sentence. He asked me and I grinned, thinking "You fool, it's my sentence. It's pefect! I'll show you!" But then Bender piped up: "Don't listen to him, he's yankin' ya. It's his sentence. I'll go!" So he went to the black-board and changed the sentence to "Je suis rarement utilisée comme un commode". Him being a robot, everyone seemed to think this was extremely funny, so they all laughed and cheered and applauded him.

Then I woke up.

Dodson's Dream---an insert

This one is not a complete story (when are dreams complete stories?), so I'm not sure if you'll find it enjoyable. I was trying to dream of Joeee, but it didn't work :)


I'm not sure it was me, but it started with an undertaker reminiscing about his life story and the family business.

I was about 8 years old, walking down a path in the backyard with my dad. We were leaving the wake room going towards the embalming building. "I know I told you to be nice with our clients, but that doesn't mean you should try to be their friend and make them laugh. This was a wake, you know!" We got to the embalming building and went in.

There were 2 corpses of old men on the tables. My father went to see the first one, because he seemed to think something was wrong. Unlike the other corpse, it was still fully clothed and holding some things. As my dad was looking at him, he started moving his arms and opened his eyes. "He he! Fooled you! When my friend died I took his things and dressed like him so you would think I was him and dead." The old man was obviously senile and my dad was trying to reason with him. There was an old folks home close by and my father was used to dealing with senile old people, so he was trying to be nice with the man.

While he was doing this, I was wandering aimlessly and had gotten between the 2 tables. The other old man, the dead one, spoke to me: "What are you going to do with your kitty?" Apparently I was holding my pet cat in my arms. "My mom says he's going to have joint problems and we need to put him to...to sleep". It was hard to say because I was pretty sad at having to put my cat to sleep. Also, I was really ashamed to be talking about killing my cat in front of a man who had recently died. It seemed kind insensitive and unfair to him.

"That's right, we have to put him down before he suffers", my father said from the other table-side.
"But he's a young cat. How old is he?", asked the dead man.
"He's four I think", I replied.
"He won't have any joint problems until he's well over 10 years old. Why kill him now?"
"My mom says we have to do it now before he suffers"


Then I woke up...glad my cat wasn't put to sleep.

Du-Du-Du Du-Du-Du Du (Mario Bros theme music)

I had this dream Thursday night, while still very feverish.

It started like a super Mario Bros. game. Me and another were on the side of a huge water pool (like in Marine Land) and needed to get to the other side: we were trying to reach some kind of wise oracle. The guy said we had to wait for Bowser (the boss in Super Mario) to hit the bottom of the pool. So Bowser jumps in the water and starts sinking, a killer whale goes buy him, and he hits the bottom. Then the plateforms around the pool flip up. As we're making our way on the plateforms, the other guy (which turns out was my brother) picks up a pack of cigarettes. The plateforms were weird; made of white plastic, like some high-tech conveyer belt. We had to be careful, some of the plateforms we weren't supposed to step on. Anytime we did, they would flash red. Hit too many and Bowser floats up to the surface and we'd have to start over.

We finally got to the oracle and he was standing behind what looked like a Sears cosmetics counter. The oracle turned out to be a cartoon dog that looked a lot like Beegle Beagle or Hong Kong Phooey from Hannah Barbara cartoons (basically a generic white dog with long black ears). So Isabelle asked him her question: "I need to know what to answer my students if they ask me what the best dandruff shampoo is." We were trying to be respectful since the dog was supposed to be this wise oracle, but he was being a dick: "What? You excpect me to say 'Head N Shoulders'? hum...Why don't YOU tell me what the best dandruff shampoo is?" Which was where I was supposed to come in and do my part: "Because that's not HER job." I grabbed him and shook him around a bit; which was easy because, being a skinny cartoon dog, he was a real push-over.

He then called his body guard: Hector the bull-dog from the Tweety and Sylvester cartoons, which I had to fight in a ring. While he was a bull-dog, he was still just 2 feet high and a cartoon, so he weighed nothing. I grabbed his front paws and spun him around for a while, then threw him in a corner. Birds stated circling his head.

Then the next guy came in: a slick-back latino came in with his coach and manager. He looked a lot like Sancho from the Orgasmo movie. We fought a bit, UFC style, until I got him in this wicked hold. He was on his back and I had my knees on his shoulders, I had one hand on his throat and the other was pulling his leg up behind my head (I know this sounds impossible and gay). He tapped out.

But that wasn't it. He was pissed. He was yelling and screaming in Latino, pointing at his belt in a glass display case, something about him still being the champion and how this was his family's honour. I just said "Yeah yeah whatever. Just give us what we need and we'll leave." He got really suprized, shocked really, that I wasn't impressed by all his honours and stuff. He was still trying to figure how get the better of me. For some reason he knew my weakness for the "How It's Made" TV show and offered to show me how they make their pastries.

He brought me to their kitchen in the back. All the ustensils and tools were gold plated and everything had this air of fantasy. All the while he was standing close behind me, whispering in my ear how they made things, trying to seduce me (geez, never realized how gay this dream was). When I came out of the kitchen, I was pretty happy: I'd seen all those cool machines and knew how they made their things. Isabelle, who had been waiting all this while, was sitting on a bench and she asked, rather impatiently: "Well?"

I was just grinning.

Then I woke up.

It Starts...

You guays asked for it.

I'll upload dreams as I have them, plus I'll upload older ones as I find them.

Even if Blogs are ghey.