Last
night I had some weird dreams - possibly the result of a thai food
binge - but who can say what sweet dreams are made of? (these?)
Anyway
- in one of them I called up this drug service (I guess?) and you
could order minute amounts of random drogas like "can
I $5 worth of pygmie speed?", etc. Anyway, part of my candy-store
like array of micro drugs included crank. Not being a crank user in
real life (Swear. Not just saying that in case an employer is reading
this) it showed up in my dream as some janky shreds not dissimilar
to chewing tobacco. A quick google image search would reveal this
is not what crank looks like, however my unconscious mind is not yet
equipped with wireless internet access. Anyway. I had my crank and
that what's important. I had no way to smoke my crank though so, with
my mom's help, I fashioned a pipe out of tin foil and stuffed some
of the janky flakes into the bogus pipe apparatus.
I
smoked my crank and suddenly I was at this old-timey carnival (here
is where the dream begins to crib heavily from last night's episode
of House). So there is this "ride", or should I say, "attraction"
that's basically just a metal lifeguard's chair - the whole deal being
that it's as high as the empire state building. Maybe in DOG INCHES!!
I could totally still talk to my mom who was on the ground. I have
never been to the top of the Empire State Building but I'm like 85%
sure you can't have a convo with people walking down 34th street.
(However I hear a falling penny can have a convo with a person's head,
neck, torso, viscera, bowels, and lower extremities when dropped from
the roof - but given what I know about basic physics I'd hazard to
guess this is a real exaggeration)
Point
being- this Empire State Building chair was cool at first but then
I got so scared I could barely deal. I was convinced it would tip
over and my cranked-out self would come crashing to the fairgrounds,
embarrassingly.
In
the end it did tip over. I leaned back but to my surprise, falling
to the ground was neither scary nor painful, perhaps a result of the
crank. I couldn't say. Sitting on my ass (typical) at the base of
the once-again-upright empire state chair, I perchanced to notice
a pile of some old mixtapes of mine, circa '94-95. Oh how stoked I
was to be reunited with them! I tried to scoop them up but I was all
butterfingers, besides I had no bag to put them in and all my friends
(oh yeah and suddenly I had friends there) were like, "I don't
want to carry around your stupid tapes all night. Maybe they'll be
here later." But I knew that was highly bullshit because what
fool would find a nailpolish-encrusted Hole/Nirvana bootleg and not
immediately pocket that shit?
I
was seriously in a bad mood at this point in the dream and desired
to see what else was in my brown paper bag/ drug sampler that might
cheer me up. I guess I found something because the next thing I knew
I was up out of that ridiculous scenario and back in my apartment.
My
pal Ted was there, buggin me for a glass of white wine. I managed
to find a bottle and pour him some but warned him that it might actually
be Hawaiian Punch - but again, I attributed this to the crank I had
injested earlier, which I just assumed had the ability to majorly
fuck with your tastebuds.
I
never got to find out whether my 'buds were fucked or not since this
dream abruptly ended in favor of another dream for which I can't remember
the details but I know I was smoking crank in the backseat of a car
thinking to myself, "I hope nobody thinks I'm addicted to this
yet. I don't even know if I am. I just kind of feel like smoking it
in this car right now. No reason to panic."
