It’s Bigger And Considerably More Fucked Up On The Inside

05/28/2012 · 47 comments

in How Did My Life Come To This, Psychological Warfare

At some point in your life, you’re going to have a friend who can keep going for days and days and never get tired. No bar is too loud, no drink is too many, and no party is considered too early in the morning. They are  a machine–a crazy, coke-and-red-bull addled monster who is always the epicenter of the most ridiculous and the most fun ideas anyone could ever dream up, if you can keep up.

For me, that friend is sleep.

Sleep eludes me even when I feel so tired I want to cry. My brain is never shut off.

“Hey, you could write that and it would be fun oh my gosh you should say this man you know what’s great snow cones also funnel cakes man that sounds good right now isn’t japan a cool place to think about YOU’RE A TERRIBLE PERSON AND YOU’VE ALWAYS DONE EVERYTHING WRONG AND YOU’RE RUINING YOUR LIFE hey did anyone put the dog up tonight because i feel like she might pee.”

Every. Single. Night. For hours and hours.

The insanity that my brain offers when I am awake does not go away when I sleep. It simply exchanges a waking state of self-loathing and funnel cakes for two really sweet REM-stage tradeoffs that make it worth it most days.

1) Great writing ideas. Everything I’ve ever written I thought of in a sleep battle.


Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, my friend Alicia and I were all in Dallas Comedy house, fighting off the zombie hoards with machetes. We were trapped in the theater when a massive basilisk came into the room. He told us we had to face him if we wanted the TriForce throne back, and we very much did, so we ended that basilisk in the greatest battle ever. We were flipping through the air and jump kicking and being generally amazing basilisk/zombie fighters, but just when we thought we were finished and stepped onto the TriForce Throne platform, we engaged a tripwire that brought back the snake Hydra style. So now there were 1,000 huge basilisks for all the pieces we chopped up, and Alicia reminds me, “Oh man, the zombies!”

“That’s it!” I said. “What if we just locked ourselves in a room, let in the zombies, and had the snakes and the zombies fight, and then we’re home free on either end!”

It’s a pretty great idea, so everyone but Simon locks ourselves into the bathroom, Simon lets in the hoard and then jumps in with us. We bar the door and begin to hear a really fantastic battle between zombies and snakes when wouldn’t you know, there’s a damn trap door in the bathroom. A fucking fresh-ass hipster zombie walks in, and we have a short slap fight that ends terribly with me waking up.

I’ll never know if the zombies and snakes finished each other off, but from the sound of it, they were making headway.

A friend of mine from several years ago visited me with his girlfriend an his severely, comically deformed baby. This friend was crying profusely, and refused to touch the baby, instead just carrying him on a couch cushion. He shoves the cushion into my hands and takes his girlfriend to my bathroom so they can ‘talk it out.’ So I sit on the couch, listening to them discuss this horrorbaby and their relationship, knowing that if I don’t leave soon, I’m going to miss my show. All while staring at this naked monster with a Kill Bill hat on its head.

Eventually, it becomes too much and I leave without telling them. The baby hasn’t moved so I figure he won’t start now, and immediately set out for finding my boxing gear. The guys from Workaholics stole it out of my jewelry box, so now I have to go on stage without it.

When I finally get to the Pepsi Center, Kurt Cobain and Dave Grohl are already onstage for our last show as Nirvana, sans instruments but plus amazing Backstreet Boys dance to Smells Like Teen Spirit. After to show, we all say goodbye to Kurt, knowing he was going to kill himself that night. Pinatas were involved in his death.

My grandmother and I are in her old living room, discussing a group of three kids who recently died. We felt like they deserved it for some reason. The note I wrote to myself in trying to remember my dream is horribly misspelled around this part, but I think these kids had robbed a bank and hit a dog or something. Either way, I had to go, so I hugged her and she took me to her front lawn to get on the Hogwarts Express to get to Kansas. Ron and Hermione ran the Express because, “Jobs for war heroes are pretty hard to come by, believe it or not.” Ron was pretty flirty, which I did not appreciate, but I did appreciate his Calliope DJ skills while he rode on the cattle guard. I will never listen to Eminem’s Shake That Ass the same way ever again.

In Kansas, I’m met on the platform by Alec Baldwin in a full tuxedo. I join him in his white Ford F-150 while wearing my ball gown, and in driving to wherever we were going (A bar? Again, so much misspelling in this note) a tornado crossed our paths. Luckily, I am the tornado whisperer, so I inferred that it was going North, and that if we just drove really fast, it would go away.

Alec and I then decide, “Fuck the bar, we’re gonna go storm chasing.” So we drove absurdly fast through Kansas, chasing all the tornados, and dodging the bikers who succumbed to a Fainting Goat effect upon sighting a funnel cloud. Really you guys, these bikers were just littering the roads. It’s a miracle we didn’t hit any of them.

And the craziest dream(s) of all.

For many years growing up, I had a recurring dream about a man with long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. We were apparently married, because we were always doing married things together: grocery shopping, driving to Whataburger, going to Lowes, and so on. I never saw his face, never knew his name, and I would wake up any time he reached toward me. It went on like this for years–once a month I’d have the dream, and it would be a new scenario but the same old rules. Then one day I had a dream where someone hit the car we were in and he died.

The dreams stopped the moment he died for a long time. Fast forward to last fall, when I had a dream that I was pregnant with a child who, for some reason, I knew was his. He wasn’t there, and I had no indications that he would be back again, but it seemed legit. I gave birth to this child with my mom by my side, who kept saying that she wished he could be here. Two months after that, the same child is 4 years old, at preschool, where I am picking her up. My brain has lived an entire life without my genuine participation.

I’ve come to the conclusion that my brain is actually a wormhole to another planet entirely.

Ever had any crazy-ass dreams? Tell me about them!

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From Jillian: “If a bear shits in the woods…you’re going to find out if that burrito was an “up” or a “down.”
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Brandon S May 28, 2012 at 1:25 am

Have I had crazy dreams? Yeah. Can I tell you about them? Not without having one of those “Do you certify you’re over 18 and have parental permission to be here unless you’re from some really f**ked up state like Utah or Guam” opening pages. I’ll let you do the math but normally I wake up before the good parts.
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Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:23 am

I had one last week with Jean-Luc Picard and I in New Mexico. Privacy could not be found.

And thus, my heart was broken.

Christine May 28, 2012 at 1:42 am

I always have crazy-ass dreams, too. To this day, my favorite was one I had in high school: my school decided that we would all learn better if they converted to a boarding school on a replica of the Titanic. Then it somehow became the plot of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility with the characters of Pride and Prejudice, played by me, my friends, and (not even kidding) ‘N Sync. For example, I knew that I was Lizzie and that I was totally pissed that JC/Darcy was already engaged to someone else. And don’t even get me started on finding random seniors decorating the ship in giant green construction paper alphabet letters, because I have no idea where that came from!

Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:25 am

That is the most historically well-represented dream ever. Well done, Christine.

Mandi E. May 28, 2012 at 7:39 am

My most fucked up dream to date involved riding on the backs of dragons and battling Zombie Steve Jobs and his walking dead army of hipster mung munchers. I’ve also had dreams about beating up old ladies for stealing a kid I was babysitting out of my shopping cart.

I used to wake up and write my dreams down so I could eventually stitch them together and make one colossally fucked up book, but through many years and dozens of moves, that notebook has been misplaced or thrown out.
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Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:31 am

I noticed that the more I write them down, the better I remember them. I never expected to find patterns, so it’s even more disturbing when I do.

Cara May 28, 2012 at 8:06 am

Just last week I had a nightmare that I was late to take the SATs (FYI, I’m now 29, but apparently test anxiety dreams never die) because Jack Donaghy wouldn’t let me borrow a fucking number 2 pencil.

Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:32 am

I had a similar dream recently, but for me it’s always that I forgot to go to several classes I registered for, and I remember them at the end of the term.

Fucking Donaghy.

Starle May 28, 2012 at 8:29 am

My husband is so fed up with my dreams. I tend to act them out and shout a lot. Last night I was fighting killer bees TWICE and at one point I shouted PARSNIPS! THERE ARE IN HERE!
He finally woak me up and said “why can’t you just sleep like a normal person? I’m sleeping peacefully next to someone who screams about veg and tries to kill me in my sleep. Jesus.”
Starle recently posted..This is Ridiculous Now, England! (with love)

Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:35 am

Goddamn parsnips. They’re always all over the place and they ruin fucking everything.

Tina May 28, 2012 at 8:42 am

I had a decades long repeating dream where I was swimming in some indoor pool. While in this pool, I was either trapped under water by the suction intake valve or too exhausted to keep swimming. In every scenario, I woke just before drowning.

I could describe in perfect detail the pool room, the viewing gallery above the pool, the shape and placement of the underwater lights, the dimensions, the slope of the bottom, color of the tiles, the stairs into the pool. It was the same details every single time for about 30 years; sometimes several times a week, or months would go by before the dream haunted me.

In 2005, while traveling with a friend to South Carolina, her father took us on a day trip to the Biltmore Estate. During the tour we walked into the basement pool room….and guess what I see…the same fucking pool I’ve been drowning in for 30 years. Down to the exact details. A pool built in the 1890’s, in a mansion I’d never been in or even heard of, in a state I’d never travelled to.

Yes, I too am considerably more fucked up on the inside.

Brandon S May 28, 2012 at 2:24 pm

I’m taking my comment down because you win. None of us can beat that kinda crazy.
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Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:38 am



Eleanor May 28, 2012 at 9:46 am

My dreams are always vivid. My therapist tells me it is normal for creative people. I feel sorry for people who don’t dream. Must get pretty boring.

My dreams tend to feel really real. Just last week I had a dream that I was competing in a caber toss and won. When I woke up my pecs hurt like a son of a bitch. Lasted for a few days.

A dream victory is still a victory, right??
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Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:39 am

Adrian doesn’t dream like I do, and when he does, it’s about architecture. Lame.

Last week Jean-Luc Picard and I beat up boy scouts in New Mexico in my dreams. Glorious. He’s really missing out.

Jillian May 28, 2012 at 10:27 am

Just last week, I had my very first sex dream. Some people get them all the time, and I just don’t. And now I’m glad, because it was intensely uncomfortable. Do people actually begin make-out sessions with their tongues already sticking out of their mouth? Or did my mind come up with that on its own? The sex wasn’t anything remarkable after the odd initial passes, but the next day (in my dream), I got a long series of text messages (in one or two word increments) from the guy explaining that he is more complex than I think of him, that he has some deep faults (which apparently do not include the tongue rape I experienced earlier), and that it was vitally important that I understand that he loves American Idol. Actually pretty lame as far as sex dreams go. Now that I’ve written it down, I’m disappointed…
Jillian recently posted..Damn It Feels Good To Be A Hipster

Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:40 am

Oh God. I love your comments so much.

Jaime May 28, 2012 at 1:09 pm

I feel your pain… I swear my brain is like that douche at a party that never stops talking and hitting on you even though he knows you’re not interested.. It keeps me up when I want to sleep, it makes me think of incredibly inappropriate things while I’m trying to study, take tests, or get it on…. It’s annoying as fuck.

Recently I had a dream where there was ferrets everywhere and for some reason bees had made the air not breatheable and so we had to lock ourselves into a house that was like something out of horders and Sound of Music mixed together… We couldn’t figure out how to seal the house properly til my friend from school cloned herself somehow and the extra person allowed for us to be able to get everything done.

W.T.F. Brain.

Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:41 am

That’s a horrible environment to be in. Ferrets are really awful to being with, and then you throw in hoarders…just…no thanks.

Jaclyn May 28, 2012 at 1:14 pm

You and Ron would have had such fantastic ginger babies.
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Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:45 am

Fucking Hermione. Bitch ruins everything.

Jen May 28, 2012 at 5:19 pm

My dreams are always really pedestrian, like sorting laundry or shopping for Quilted Northern toilet paper at WalMart. I can only surmise it’s because my waking existence is so existential and surreal that my subconscious mind craves the mundane; like a nocturnal sorbet to cleanse the cerebral palate.
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Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:45 am

I love that your life is so effed that your brain needs a break at night. You officially win.

Valerie May 28, 2012 at 7:21 pm

Ok. So me and Jim Carrey are getting chased by a minor league baseball team. We are running for what seems like ages when we come upon a door in the middle of the woods. On the other side, we hear the team plotting our demise. I have my ear pressed against the door to hear their plan. Jim is creating a ruckus behind me. I turn around to tell him to shut the fuck up so I can hear.

He’s holding a gianormous bag of Lays Potato chips. Much to my dismay, he opens the bag and removes one perfectly round chip. Then he proceeds to dust the floor off ever so gently and put the chip on the ground.

Then he BODY SLAMS the hell out of the chip.

“Jim!! What the fuck are you doing?!?” I say.

Jim, with a large smile upon his face, responds by saying: “I’M LAYING ON THE LAYS!!!!”

This woke me up out of a sound sleep with pure laughter. Well played, Mr. Carrey. Well Played.


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Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:50 am

Good Lord. Your brain gives solid Jim Carrey impressions. I will never be this cool.

Chooplah May 28, 2012 at 8:12 pm

Symbols in your dreams that represent the male erect penis: hipster zombie, couch cushion, Hogwarts Express, Alec Baldwin’s tuxedo bowtie, Lowes home improvement center.
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Jillian May 28, 2012 at 8:38 pm

I thought you were a spammer for a hot second, and then you became my hero.
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Brandon S May 29, 2012 at 12:53 am

At first I was going to say you were wrong about the Lowes Home Improvement Center until I realized you were right. Had you said Home Depot that would have been a representation of all things L-Word. Cause we all know the gays distance themselves from the Orange. It’s dirty there.
Brandon S recently posted..Weekend Warrior – Since I’m Getting Nothing Done – A Giveaway!

Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:53 am

This is why I am in love with you, Chooplah.

Misty May 29, 2012 at 7:36 am

I had a dream once where I was laying on a couch and a huge fucking rat squiggled between the back of my neck and the pillow I was laying on, and I woke up so fast, sat up and started rubbing my neck because I could still FEEL that rat on the back of my neck.

Didn’t you end up marrying a man with long dark hair worn in a ponytail? Methinks parenthood may be on the horizon. Better start picking out names for little girls. Hermione has a nice ring to it.
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Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:53 am

Yes I did end up marrying a man with long dark hair in a ponytail, and he cannot ever understand how afraid I am of him dying in a car crash.

Dani May 29, 2012 at 12:47 pm

Insomnia is not only my first, middle, and last names, it’s also my BFF and my alter-ego, Insomnia Girl (complete with unflattering unitard with drop seat and flannel cape).

I don’t dream because I don’t sleep.

I lay awake all fucking night plotting ways to kill people that need killin’ without getting caught.
I plan the perfect murder.
I count how many days it would take me to lose X number of pounds if I only ate chips and salsa one meal a day AND NOTHING ELSE.
I mentally write my acceptance speech for when I’m invited to speak at a convention honoring the bloggess, where everyone decides they like me better than her and I leave with Beyonce the Giant Chicken as my door prize.

Oh… and one time? When I had this uh. MAZ. ing doctor that would actually prescribe Ambien? I SHAVED MY HEAD IN MY SLEEP.

Which was kind of a trade-off. I was well rested. But I also looked like a fat, old, female version of a new millitary recruit.

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Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:56 am

I always wanted to try Ambien. And LSD.

And now, I am so afraid.

Dana the Biped May 29, 2012 at 1:02 pm

I sleep like the dead. Except for the kicking and flailing. I frequently flip the blankets around 180 degrees and wake up with the stinky-foot part of the blankets up by the stinky-breath part of me–sheets, blankets, and comforter all still perfectly aligned. It’s messed up.
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Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:56 am

I frequently wake up with my shirt on inside out and backwards. Once with both arms through one arm hole.

Andi Davies May 29, 2012 at 5:02 pm

I don’t have insomnia, as much as it’s a facet of my character. I’ve given up trying to go to sleep on purpose. What I do is, I go to bed so I can fantasize about my mail-order bride (or conversely, witness protection) life with my handsome but tragically scarred and isolated groom. I have to coax him out of his shell, and make him show me his scars so we can get on with the loving. It’s a multi-night choose-your-own-adventure, but unfortunately I keep falling asleep in the middle.

On the other hand, my actual dreams suck. Last night, I dreamt that my husband — my real one, not the tragic one — accused me of cheating because he found my photo with a profile on Craigslist. I kept protesting that someone had stolen my photo, and then I said I would never put a profile on Craigslist anyway, and he replied, “YES YOU WOULD, because that’s how we met!” And I swear, I woke up because I was more mad that he forgot the circumstances of our meeting than about the whole Craigslist thing. Also, I now have a fear of Craigslist. Fuck.
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Noa June 5, 2012 at 12:59 am

I really want to see that dream play out, but in all the prequels as well. That way even you can see why you chose your husband from the missed connections section on CL.

CoreyFerns May 30, 2012 at 2:50 am

I can’t remember my most crazy ass dreams, but there have been some insane ones, like where I’m sitting on a bench, then suddenly get up for no reason, run down an alley and on the other side there’s the main street and an empty parking space with blood and glass.

About a month later there was an accident a guy was thrown onto the windshield of our car, blood and glass every where, my dad asked me to keep an eye on a parking spot in our apartment complex, he took a while so I got up from the bench, ran down the alley to check it out…

Empty parking space, shards of glass, pool of blood…

I generally have some crazy dreams cause that’s just my personality, but they give me fucking anxiety attacks when I wake up. Like that one time I dreamt of the unicorn apocalypse, and right before a pissed off Mr.Ed speared me in the gut with a charge of ‘B-B-BASTARRRD’ I woke up and fell out of bed…

Though I did come up with some fun ideas..should…really write my dreams down and make more of a point to dream happy..y’know, like battling the unicorn apocalypse on the backs of transformers.
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Noa June 5, 2012 at 1:01 am

Good lord. Stay away from glass, my friend. I think your brain is attempting to warn you.

asplenia May 30, 2012 at 10:33 am

Do you believe in past lives? I feel weird about that stuff like meh, but then something like that comes along, with that whole alternative life in a recurring dream, and I really wonder.

Your dreams are incredible!

Noa June 5, 2012 at 1:01 am

It’s fucking weird, right?

As Misty rightly pointed out, I ended up marrying a man with long dark hair in a ponytail. My life is weird.

Robyn May 31, 2012 at 2:00 am

This is the weirdest dream I have ever had. I remember I was on Ambien at the time as well!

I think I was living in NY..and these little girls kept gettin murdered at night. Every night..a new murder. Finally we seemed to figure out if they got put in this one bedroom, the would surely get murdered. So it was getting late when we figured this out, and decided to go get the little girl out of the room and when we got down the hall, we grabbed her and they ran. Well I stayed behind cuz I figured..I’m not a little girl and I wanna see this asshole..maybe I can take him down. So I go stand in a dark corner and wait. Sure enough, here comes a man, only the man was a midget and HORRIBLY disfigured. He starts screamin and havin a fit cuz there’s noone there..well then I come out of my corner and his mouth starts watering..and I see this knife flash out. And I’m thinkin…yeah right..midget asshole. So I walk up to him and kick him. he goes flyin out the door and lands in the hallway..i walk out and he starts running away and screaming. I follow him outside to the street and he’s standing there doing this jibbirish stuff..and before I knew it, 10 more midget killers surround me. OH shit. So I start running, and of course thier midget legs can’t keep up so I easily outrun them. Pretty soon i’m on railroad tracks and see this small city. So i run to this back alley and there are these superhero like people in this one house. So I ask if I can join them, they said sure. One of the super hero guys is really really cute..think they call him Dog-Man..or something..cuz he had a tail, but he was cute. So the midgets find me and we all attack them and put them back in this vortex hole thing that appeared in the living room and they get swept back to another dimension. They all said good job and Dog-Man winks at me. As they were leaving they said..we all have new cars when we join’s the keys to yours. So I look around for a few mintues and go back outside and there is a SUV that’s mine..I’m like coooollll..and Dog-Man left a note on my windshield welcoming me and there’s a note from the others as well. But then I see one midget escaped…and he’s coming after I get in my SUV and splatter him on the road…the end..

Noa June 5, 2012 at 1:03 am

Sweet baby jesus.

You won this round.

Robyn June 5, 2012 at 10:27 pm

Ambien really fucks me up! I don’t take it unless my insomnia gets realllly bad, because I also talk and lash out at my husband in my sleep!

Andrea June 6, 2012 at 10:04 pm

One of the things I stumbled upon: when I forget to take my medicine (Cymbalta), my dreams “record” into long-term memory. It’s thrilling and I have to double-check to make sure I’m not subconsciously sabotaging my med-taking to have said experiences.

You also get deja vu at seemingly inane times since the long-ass dreams register as memory instead of being overwritten when you wake up.

Noa June 9, 2012 at 12:07 pm

Wow. Fucking Hell, that shit happens to me all the time, but I don’t take Cymbalta. Just Rum.

Melodie February 14, 2013 at 12:28 pm

My dreams never make sense and I don’t remember them. But my deja vu has been a BITCH lately and I really want to either be able to see into the future already or for it to stop. PEither or.

My friend Kasa takes Ambien, and when she doesn’t physically GET INTO bed right away, she’ll go to sleep but her body will keep going. It’ll decide FUCK BANGS AND EYEBROWS and cut/shave them off and order her a bright pink wig online.

Shit’s insane.

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