The Gull Reef Club

5/13/2004

Filed under: — Jaime @ 9:23 pm

Discussing dreams are funny. They tend to be one of those subjects that people either really get into or they dismiss as a time waster. I’m one of the former types. I grew up in a house full of former types. My dad, sister and I would often share our dreams over a weekend breakfast. It was a form of bonding for us. As I’ve gotten older, I still maintain my fascination with dreams.

I share some of my dreams with a few staffers at AD, and they with me. It’s something we started over a year ago and I’ve come to really enjoy the exchanges we have. Sometimes, I feel like I dominate the conversations, though, because my dream recall is really amazing. I actually only share with them my dreams that are in someway related to AD (which is quite the recurring theme). I spare them much of the other meanderings.

I know you’re smart enough to know where I’m leading with all this. -I can, and will, use my journal space to fill it with my non-AD dreams. Not to disappoint, I have one from last night for you.

This was an odd dream because I wasn’t in it. I am usually always in my dreams. This one was more like watching a TV show. I dreamt that the US president, played by Martin Sheen of course, had been captured by Iraqi insurgents and was being held in a dungeon (very British looking type, grey, moist, underground, etc). He was shackled to the wall with his arms above his head.

The scene flashed to a room of important looking white men in medal-covered uniforms, looking serious, and determining that the president’s son was the one who should go in and save him. A studio audience chuckles at this.

The scene flashes back to the president in the dungeon. The view pans slightly and we (the studio audience, I guess) see the president’s son, Charlie Sheen, standing next to him, also shackled to the wall. The sitcom, “waaa-waaahhhh” horn plays and then I hear the ‘big’ laugh of a studio audience. The reason the audience was laughing was because the show was playing off a stereotype the audience held that the president’s son was known to be dim and couldn’t get himself out of a paperbag, much less his father out of Iraq. The ridiculousness of the idea of the president’s son trying to save the president was a hilarious joke to the studio audience.

Dreams tend to end abruptly, as did this one. More to come…

The Gull Reef Club