Last night, I dreamed that I walked into a conference and shot nine people with a handgun. The details are slipping on me now but I vaguely remember classmates from high school and college as well as people from my current life–but not really the names or faces.
I think I started out with a revolver, walked through some sliding doors and emptied out into arms and legs. People were shooting back, but to no avail. After emptying the revolver, I grabbed some sort of automatic from a security guard or cop and started shooting with that, stopping at one point to pop the clip out and fix a bullet jam. After getting to nine people, I turned the corner then sat down at a table and simply waited for the cops to come.
I don’t know if they came. I think I was taken in and released almost immediately because I had no priors, hadn’t killed anyone (only limb shots) and, as far as I can tell, I’m Ken Wheaton and the star of my own dreams.
But I spent the rest of my dreaming night, flitting from dream to dream scenario, in all of them telling everyone I shot nine people. I’d wake up from time to time, thinking at first I’d actually done it, then thinking how truly messed up it was. The dream made me so anxious that I’d have trouble getting back to sleep. But I did.
I found the wallet of a drunk frat boy in the frozen food section of Trader Joe’s. Upon returning the wallet, I said, “I totally shot nine people today.” And he said, “Dude, what the fuck for?” and I said, “Don’t know.”
I walked into a grocery market in Opelousas, Louisiana, to pick up some cream cheese (because, duh, I had to make cheese cake) and ran into another friend from high school who’d done gray streaks in her hair that were so horrid and embarrassing, I’m not going to mention her name here even though this was only a dream. She said, “I tried to call you this weekend. You okay?” And I said, “Nah. Not really. I shot nine people today. Walked right into a conference and shot nine people.”
Then I drove back to my mom’s house and waited for my new girlfriend, Corinne Baily Rae, to show up. She would make everything better.