Johnny on the Spot:
Because I usually have terrifying nightmares that leave me shaking and unable to sleep, it was an absolute pleasure this morning to wake up giggling after a full six hours of sleep because of this dream:
It was like I was watching a Candid Camera-style television show. A man with a deep voice and a British accent narrated the dream in a sweet storyteller manner like the dead woman on Desperate Housewives. There were a few modern portable restrooms on a busy city street near a construction site. I got the feeling it was around 5:00pm and people were just leaving their jobs and rushing home or to meet friends. Whenever someone would enter one of the porta-potties, a mechanical voice would tell them, “We are closing in 15 seconds. Exit now or be locked in until 8:00am.” A split second later, the patron would hear a buzz and an audible LOCK! Outside the porta-potties, passersby could hear - and this is what cracked me up - people yelling from inside, “NO!” or “Are you freaking kidding me?!” And, most ironically, “SHHHHHHHHHH******TTTTTTTTT!”
(It was really the “duh” look on the passersby that made me giggle!)
Which reminds me of another dream I had, years ago, that ended similarly.
Shortly after arriving at Torrejon Air Base in Spain, nearly everyone would get what my dad used to call The Green Apple Quick Step..... or, you know, (whisper) diarrhea. It was inevitable which is what made it funny to most of us. One night I was dreaming a strange little dream that looked like an old western film. I was the cameraman. The scene was an old west mining town, eerily silent. There was an energy in the dead air like it was about 20 minutes before the shoot out at the OK Corral and a tumbleweed blew across the street from one abandoned saloon to its sister on the other side. The camera began to pan back. Something like black curtains appeared on either side of the screen. As I panned back even further, I realized it was actually the legs of a gunslinger in full stance, ready for action. His back was to me. He was wearing road weary black pants and dusty black boots and two very shiny black guns on either hip. His hands were resting on each of the pistols and as I dared pan back just a little more, he made a quick 180 degree turn to face me, crouched, ready to shoot and said, “You better wake up before you sh*t the bed!”