Yow. I just had a complicated dream involving Pee Wee Herman, a series of really bizarre quests (“Find the grave of the Bicycle King!” “Kill the marauding Darklion!”) me being an occasionally-disembodied ghost who was supposed to be helping Pee Wee, a male romantic lead who was short, blond, rangerish and missing part of his soul for unexplained reasons, and a few really hot moments (yes, I did blow off finding the grave of the Bicycle King in order to get laid. I have priorities, and if you’re only occasionally embodied, you gotta take advantage of your corporeal moments.)

Just as it was building nicely–“I’m off to kill the Darklion! I’ll come back for you!” “Woot!”–and it looked like we’d get the final apocalyptic battle scene, Pee Wee would slink back to his playhouse in disgrace, and possibly there would be celebratory corporeality afterwards–there was a knock on the door.

I woke up, staggered out of bed, signed for my new iPod, realized that I was never getting that dream back, and got up instead.


I recall the dialog being really romantic, but what I recall of it specifically was just completely nonsensical, which leads me to suspect that romance in dreams is like art in dreams–your brain is not generating either great art or romance, it is generating the sensation of having been exposed to it. Which is an interesting thought.

And now I have to go play with my iPod for awhile.

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