If there were a Guinness world record for weirdest dreams, I would hold that record hands down. By a long shot.
The first dream I actually remember was when I was perhaps seven. In it there was a Queen Anne chair that was deep purple that had a poster of WC Fields on the back. It was chasing me through some Victorian house trying to kill me. Oh, and it only had three legs. Although I overcame enough of that dream to love the color purple, WC Fields scares the bejeezus out of me to this day.
About six months ago give or take, I dreamt that I took an airplane to some Arab nation. The man I was interested in at that time met me there. Normal enough so far. But, he was a midget. And he was humping the windshield of a car.
A few months later I dreamt about the same man, not a midget this time. But a perfectly proportioned miniature. Like two foot tall.
The night before last I dreamt that my daughter, my father and I were all in the hospital. Never mind that my father has been gone for many years. We all got discharged and came to my home. My daughter was sleeping on the couch with my grandson, my father was asleep in the bed and I was trying to tell someone that I had taken an oxycodone but couldn’t think of the word. That person turned out to be my sister (who has passed) except she was my mother (who has passed) in my dream. She took me outside to tell me that my father was dying and I got furious because someone had stolen my mailbox.
Last night I dreamt that I got a new job. In my dream, my best friend and soon to be coworker was Khloe Kardashian. And I was angry at her because some mysterious thing had happened in April and she wouldn’t tell me about it. It had something to do with $817. Then Khloe and I were at the movies and Joey from Friends agent Estelle was our boss.
If anyone wants to take a crack at these, feel free.
But first, admit it. I hold the world record for weirdest dreams.