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Rail! Entertainment > Docs >

I Had Some Weird Dreams

By Michael - 11-21-08


I had a dream where I climbed onto a concrete platform about four stories high. In this dream universe, people would climb up onto this platform and jump off for fun. There was no bungee cable or parachute involved – It was as safe as a tall waterslide since gravity just wasn’t very powerful. People would leap off and land softly on their feet. I had done it dozens of times.

I was jumping with two people – they were acquaintances, not friends, and they had no real-life parallel. There was also a woman at the top who worked for the place and supervised the jumps. It was like a club – jumpers would get a badge along with a few other items as part of the deal.

The first to go was just some anonymous guy – I don’t remember if I saw his face. He sat down on the edge of the platform and pushed himself off. The next to jump was a 14-15 year old kid, the kind of adolescent who just annoys people by existing. We’ve all seen him: Pimples, emo hair, hyperactive. In my memory, I had fallen from this platform dozens of times, but as I watched this bastard child abomination jump, I immediately developed a fear of heights. This kid didn’t sit on the edge and push off like the last guy – he wanted to be different. He decided to jump off backwards. So he turned to face me and took a jumping step back. At this time, I was rapidly losing my courage, and wanted him to hurry up so I could get back down to ground level. As he fell, he reached out and caught himself on a ledge slightly below us in an act of defiant gymnastic skill (much like a skateboarder performing a hand-plant off the edge of a half pipe). He looked at me with a combination of “Look at me! I’m extreme” and “Bet you can’t do this, old man! You got served!”

He held his pose for a moment until I yelled at him, “Hurry up, you fucking mongoloid!”

That got him moving.

I couldn’t jump until he had landed and gotten safely out of the way. I had become instantly afraid to look over the edge, so I had to basically count to 30 and assume that he was out of the way by then.

I was sitting on the edge – but I couldn’t push myself off and I couldn’t look down. I was completely frozen with fear. There was no other way down besides jumping. I couldn’t climb back down (We got to the platform via trees, posts, and ledges. It was nearly impossible to duplicate the trip in reverse.) There were people behind me impatiently waiting their turn.

As I sat there, the woman who supervised the jumps began to approach me – I saw her moving from the corner of my eye and I spat out “Don’t touch me! I am currently in the process of freaking out!”

She was very understanding, and psychology was most definitely part of her training. She reassured me that she’d seen me do the jumps all the time, and that I knew that they were completely harmless.

“Yes, yes, but it’s so high!”

I was completely embarrassed, and I still didn’t know how I was going to get down. Could a helicopter come get me? In shame, I handed her my “Jump Badge” that I had earned previously, along with a knife and maybe a compass.

“I don’t deserve this,” I said to her.

“I can’t take this – you’ll need this to come back,” she said.

“I’m not coming back.”


I was hanging out at a house that I assume to be my sister’s. While sitting on the couch, I noticed a large, strange spider climbing a wooden stereo cabinet. Its body was black, about two or three inches long, with four legs instead of eight. Now that I think about it, it looked a lot like a smaller version of Half-Life 2’s poison head crab. I was in the middle of some conversation, but I made a note in my head to keep an eye on it and kill it as soon as possible. It looked dangerous, and there were children in the house.

We finished whatever vague dream nonsense we were discussing, and I noticed the creature was now perched on the side of the couch. I quickly located a can of Raid and began to approach it. The thing saw me coming towards it, began skittering along the carpet, and rose up to challenge me. It had a defense posture where it would stand on its back legs to make itself appear larger. The spider unfurled its other four legs from beneath its body.

“So that’s where your other legs are,” I thought to myself. Because, you see, I’ve been told that spiders should have eight freaking legs. The illusion was very impressive – the creature now seemed to be three or four times its original size, and looked very alien and intimidating. It seemed to be almost as large as my hand. I began to spray that sucker down with the bug spray. Since this thing was so large, I didn’t expect the Raid to work - but it did. The spider flipped over on its back, wiggled its legs spastically, and then stopped moving. I decided to let it sit there for a while to make sure it was dead, because I didn’t want it to wiggle in my hands when I picked it up with a paper towel.

My sister and I went to the kitchen/dining room, and continued our chat – we might have been discussing my nephew. About five minutes into the conversation, my sister interrupted me.

“You’re going to be pissed,” she said.

“Pissed about what?” I asked cautiously.

“That spider’s not there anymore.”

“Oh, I’m not pissed at all,” I said. “I’m actually quite terrified! Where’d it go?”

We were both still sitting on kitchen stools, looking towards the living room. I saw a small bit of movement from under the couch, but it wasn’t the spider. A small mouse slowly crawled out from below the couch, followed by four or five smaller mice (which I understood to be its children.)

“You have rodents,” I said, stating the obvious. My sister nodded in agreement as a wild raccoon started to tear-ass through the living room, smashing glass and knocking cabinets over to get to the mice (My sister actually used to have a raccoon.)

“You know how I know this is a dream?” I asked, pointing at the large tan feline entering the hallway.

“Because there’s a mountain lion right there.”


Heights and falling tend to be recurring themes in a lot of my dreams (The rhyming you just witnessed was unintentional.)

I was on a metal walkway that was suspended by chains high above an old-fashioned, almost medieval village. I was walking above cottages made of stone, wood, and straw. There were no modern sidewalks below, but there were stone paths to each home’s door. The ground thirty feet below me was covered with lush green grass that wasn’t mowed, but wasn’t sloppy or overgrown either.

“How do they mow grass without lawnmowers?” I thought. “Cattle?”

I travelled the walkways above this town as a shortcut to wherever I was going. They all had railings that I would sometimes climb or jump over depending on where I was going and which platform I was on. So I climbed over one railing, slipped, and fell through the space between scaffolds.

I fell about thirty feet and braced myself for impact. I hit the terrain, rolled, and heard a crunching sound from my chest/shoulder area. The fall had knocked the wind out of me, and I was out of breath. I was able to stand up. I wasn’t in a lot of pain, and I felt fortunate to have survived, but I knew something was seriously wrong with me. I pulled my shirt down, and saw a severe bruise and a protrusion below my right collarbone where the first rib starts. Well, I think it’s a rib; I don’t know what else to call it. In this dream, I didn’t call it a “broken rib below my collarbone.” I called it a “dislocated shoulder.” My expertise on the subject of anatomy pretty much sucks, folks. Sorry.

A Hispanic man found me dazed and bleeding, standing outside his house, and he immediately took me inside. While he got supplies to help me, I hung out with his wife and children. I believe that I helped one of the kids with schoolwork, while the wife seemed to be sending me signals.

The man returned with a medical kit and stood me up. He was speaking mostly Spanish, but I was able to understand most of what he meant. He was going to “relocate” my shoulder.

I took a step back. When somebody has a dislocated shoulder on television or in the movies, this is what they do: The “doctor” character will grab the shoulder and tell the patient, “On the count of three, okay? ONE!”

CRACCKKK! And the doctor would then violently force the shoulder back into place on “TWO” so that the patient wouldn’t tense up? It happened last week on “Supernatural.” Anyway, this guy started counting…


I began to protest in horrible white-guy Spanish, “¡No! ¡No es dislocado! ¡No es dislocado!” I don’t even know if dislocado is an actual Spanish word, but hey. It sounds fairly authentic. For fun, I also added those little Spanish upside-down exclamation points to the beginning of those sentences. Enjoy.

An instant later he pushed my broken rib/collarbone back into place and I felt instant relief. The world came back into focus, and I was no longer in pain.

“Gracias, señor. Gracias,” I whispered gratefully, almost in tears. I was lucky to have fallen into this guy’s yard – his medical skill was unsurpassed. I was almost perfectly repaired! I owed this man my life.

“I am in your debt, sir,” I told him truthfully.

Well, my memory’s a bit fuzzy, but I believe I hit on his wife a few minutes later. She was pretty hot.






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