Sweet Dreams are made of This

So the Dream Roundup from last night is one of the most interesting ones in a while - I can't cover the whole thing on Twitter or Facebook alone, so it gets it's own blog post.

In the first dream, I'd taken up Customer Service at Target, which was apparently around the corner from my house. As this dream progressed, it seamlessly turned from Target into an Adoption agency. I dunno. But anyways, I was late coming back from one of my breaks because Ali and I went to the local yard sales to buy Christmas cards. I had to write out a handwritten apology to management for coming back so late.

This was not the stranger dream.

I only remember about the second half of dream two. I think I was doing something interplanetary, I'm not sure, but I eventually got an invitation to use a warp hole thingie to go to another planet - but in order to do so, I had to pass through the ring with a mind clear of thought. No problem. I think I've been to this planet in another dream though, because I have a memory of going there and realizing the inhabitants were delicious and eating a bunch of them. It's not my fault that some of their species are made of Sloppy Joes! (for you Canadian/other types of international readers, just Wikipedia it.) So this time when I went down, I promised I'd abide by their vegetarian lifestyle for the duration of my stay... though I did bring a turkey sandwich that I ate, but at least it was an earth animal and not one of them.
So, after a song and dance routine (yes, we had a song and dance routine, and yes, I embarrassingly forgot some of the words) I learned that these delicious aliens were about to be attacked by a different tribe of non-delicious aliens. A non-delicious alien named Zoltar had come to let us know, and wanted to be on our side. I offered to help in this fight, since Zoltar's race of people were about a foot tall, and I could just kick them really far.
Well, it turned out to be even easier, because the delicious aliens used toothpicks with marshmallows on the ends as weapons, and the non-delicious aliens are apparently susceptible to this.
So, after some adorable marshmallow pokes and a barrage of kicking, we determined that it was time for me to go home. I offered for some of the delicious aliens to come with me, but the second we arrived back on earth at Scotland's interplanetary airport, he was eaten up. ...whoops.


I have such strange freakin' dreams, but I wouldn't change it for anything. I'm clearly having more fun while sleeping than most people! :-)