Last night I wrote the greatest episode of Workaholics ever.
I was dreaming, mind you, but I swear it really was fantastic. In my dreams I have the ability to judge quality as it pertains to the waking world. Had it been crap, I would be telling you that I wrote a crappy episode of Workaholics. But I didn’t. It was great.
Now, a scant fourteen hours later I have lost all semblance of plot, story arc, dialogue and direction. It’s all gone.
During the dream I vowed that as soon as I awoke I would scribble down all the details as I knew I had just a few minutes before consciousness would sweep it away.
The problem is that waking up is the most exhausting activity I do all day. I need to get back to nine hours a night. That’s my magic number. But who has time for nine hours of sleeping except depressives? Not this auteur!
Two years ago I wrote the greatest dramatic movie of all time rivaling Citizen Kane and Gone With the Wind. I’m not trying to brag. In my non-dream world, I can’t write stuff like this. So, it’s not an ego thing.
Example: In my freshman year of college, I had a dream where I composed an amazing pop song. It was great. Once again, I swore that when I woke up I would remember it and write it in a notebook. In fact I planned out that I would grab my guitar and start strumming along until I had it perfect. My roommate would just have to deal.
I woke up, waited five seconds, and decided the floor was really cold. Plus, I knew the song perfectly in that moment. I could go back to sleep. So I did.
Fifteen years later I still have not written one good song.
Now, I have plenty of talents in the real world. I’m a pretty good employee, a caring guy, funny, and I love my pets, friends, and family. I’m creative, and this blog allows me to use what’s on the inside of my head to connect with the inside of your head. That’s pretty cool. Magical, really.
I’m not complaining.
I just want this exact experience to happen one day: I dream about something really cool happening, like writing a great story for the blog (I’ve had those, too). I swear I’m going to remember it, and when I wake up, I actually write it down. Then, I let it sit for twenty-four hours, look back at it, and objectively decide if it was as brilliant in real life as it seemed in my dreams.
The problem is that these type of dreams only come along a few times a year. The rest of the time it’s about me forgetting to go to a college course all semester and then showing up totally unprepared for the exam. This one pops into my dream rotation at least twice a week.
At least I don’t have the teeth falling out one anymore. That one sucked.
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