Charlie Don’t Surf the Net!
By Brandon Adamson

So the weekend was strangely uneventful. I ended up not going out due to falling asleep during the prime time hours (10 p.m to 5 a.m thurs, fri sat and sunday night.) Also, for the entire weekend the movie “Apolcalypse Now Redux” played on repeat in my room. That’s not meant to be a metaphor for some abstract, surreal and creepy shit that was going on. I really was watching Apocalypse Now Redux. It must have played nearly 30 or 40 times(and still counting.) That of course, led to some really bizarre and terrifying dreams. The worst type of nightmare I have is a frequently recurring one. It’s one of those where in the dream, you’ve killed someone justifiably yet covered it up or buried them(like a metropolitan version of Deliverance but without the uncomfortable male rape scene.) Anyway you spend the entire dream, nervous about getting caught by the authorities who are slowly picking up clues(Match Point?) Well in this particular version, I had killed someone after they had come back from the dead, because they requested it. I may have actually only reburied them in some sort of weird shrine in the backyard. IDFK. For some reason I had to keep them in the freezer for a bit first. And then I went to the bank teller… who was in my house for some reason, and took out $50 to gamble in Vegas(high stakes I know.) The teller gave the money to me all in 1 dollar bills, and in an excessive amount of bundles and money bags which made it look like a hell of a lot more than $50. I was concerned it might be stolen.

Anyway, the big twist in the dream, was that when I got back home, my mom was in the process of killing someone. It was some sort of real jerky guy who resembled that asshole ex-husband/ex-boyfriend guy in Superman (was Brad his name?) So, yeah, basically I walk in, catch the end of the ordeal as she’s busy wiping away fingerprints from ashtrays and scrubbing the place of dna evidence(my mom always was a neat freak.)

So, later the cops show up, only vaguely suspicious,to ask her questions and search the place. I’m of course nervous about my own “crime” (which she does not seem to know about.) After they leave she tells me they found nothing except she can’t understand why they managed to spot some blood in the freezer. So the jig is up, but then I rationalize that since the cops are working on a completely different case, the blood in the freezer won’t match with that of the victim they are investigating, so they may not look into it further. The dream ends with us somewhat fast forwarded ahead in time, trying to get on with our lives. Meanwhile I’m still concerned about the police, but she reassures me that they have no evidence, and they’re not going to do anything.

One thing about these kinds of nightmares that always gets me, is that they are so real. I often find myself saying “if only this were a dream, but it’s real this time! I wish I could take it back, but it actually happened, and I will have have to look over my shoulder forever. This is real!” Well it wasn’t real. I woke up and there was Martin Sheen to tell me, “Saigon. Shit, I’m still only in Saigon.”

Filed under: Uncategorized - @ April 27, 2011 6:08 am

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