anotheranon | cracked out dreams, alternative realities, etc.

I'm now mostly recovered from my cold - enough so that I don't have to take Nyquil in order to be functional. That stuff does some weird stuff to your brain, at least it does to me, and it almost always manifests as crazy dreams.

I'm sure none of these shine any light on any deep, inner longings or suspicions of my own, but they're too weird not to share:

What kind of alternative reality has Aretha Franklin as president? But that's what I dreamed. All the living ex-presidents - even Dubya - were firmly behind her candidacy, mostly because she could belt out the national anthem better than anyone else. Her administration was heralded as a new dawning of arts and diplomacy in America, and I remember wearing something blue and sequined to the inauguration.

My friends and I gather in a huge northern chalet in the middle of winter to have a reunion before we all go our different ways for work, school, whatever. C. planned the whole thing and was about to go on her way to some distant foreign country to study who knows what. The entire house was being packed up and shut down - the power went out as everyone left.

I was going off to school, but for some reason I wasn't aware that the campus was in deepest rural...Alabama. Failing to find a pharmacy that would fill birth control prescriptions (see how neatly current affairs invade my subconcious?), I vowed to date only women. I methodically seduced every cute goth girl on campus while plotting to escape to New Orleans for some serious weekend partying. All of the road maps put Alabama in the American Southwest, which might explain why I never got out. Also, Fox Mulder was there (??)

Swimming in opaque blue lakes and darting about in my dad's motorboat (?? my dad never had a motorboat), I accidentally ran into two SUVs parked next to each other at the ship's shore (???). Absent the owners, I wrote a profusely apologetic note in very tiny writing that made little sense and left it with some kids in one of the cars.

I reunited with my friends to swim in the bright blue water, which had pieces of cardboard that you could feel brush against you (this was some sort of spa therapy, set up by the lake's owners). We talked about how fantastic it was to be able to have your own lakeside cabin to visit during the summer, to cook up tilapa and burgers while swimming and boating, and the conversation turned to how wonderful it would be to visit on the off season, and what the appropriate foods were to eat during different seasons (hot cider during the fall, double-fudge chocolate chip cookies by a roaring fire in winter).