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Orange Sunshine v1.0

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  Monday, May 31, 2004
Calling Dr. Freud
- Dream #1, 05.30.04 -

I'm in my living room building a musical instrument comprised of a bunch of buttons, buzzers and doorbells affixed to an upside down bucket. This instrument is to be a present for professional wrestler, Randy "Macho Man" Savage, each button triggering a different pitched version of his catchphrase, "Ooooh yeah." A few days from now, my friend John is getting married on top of the hill behind my house. (In reality John has been married longer than I have.) From the living room I can see John with the rest of the bachelor party on the hill. Assuming I'm missing out on some official event, I grab a shotgun and head out to say hi. This is not just any shotgun mind you, but an all white beauty with 1970's style red and blue streaking stars painted across the stock. To get to the top of the hill, you have to go through the parking lot for a pair of tennis courts that double as the entrance to some tourist trap. I make my way up the hill, passing hundreds of Japanese tourists in the process. No one seems to mind I'm packing heat. I greet John at the top of the hill and he explains to me that the bachelor party has been postponed until after the wedding. I found this a little strange and was about to say so when the wedding planner he hired starts creeping towards me, eyeballing my gun. Ridiculously uncomfortable, I decide it's best to leave the area. As I turned to walk away, I awoke.

- Dream #2, Date Unknown -

I'm in Seattle trying to find this kick-ass hotel I stayed in a few years ago. For transportation I'm riding a modified Segway. It's like a traditional Segway, only the steering column is covered in some kind of foam padding that goes up way past my head. Instead of gripping the handles, you just sort of hug the column and enjoy the ride. I'm having a hard time finding the hotel, so I'm stopping at all these different stores asking directions. (It doesn't help that "Seattle" is a mix of the real Emerald City and various parts of Portland, Oregon.) No matter what door I go into, all the stores are S&M shops, full of whips and chains, restraints, and the occasional customer tied to the wall. The people seem pretty cool and everyone has interesting tattoos, but no one has heard of the hotel. I wake up without ever knowing its location.

A card carrying member of the little known Disco Division of the NRA in one dream, gallivanting about the greater Seattle area on a giant mobile penis in the next. With all due respect to Henny Youngman, "take my subconscious, please."

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