Contender for Most Random Dream Ever
by Kelly Thomas Reardon
First off, I rarely dream. Second, I rarely remember the dreams I actually have. Third, the dreams I do remember are rarely worth sharing.
This one however…
* * *
I find myself driving a black pickup truck. And I’m in a hurry. Please note that I’ve never owned a pickup truck, never desired or envied a pickup truck, and never plan on owning a pickup truck.
Anyways, I pull into the parking lot of where I’m going. It’s HUGE. Think Great America huge. And it is completely packed, with people still trying to get into the lot. Somehow, I find a parking spot and pull in. I jump out of the truck — out of the passenger side for some reason — and grab my hockey bag out of the bed of the truck. Nearby, I see two teammates from my real-life hockey team who are also grabbing their bags of gear. We’re all late, for a game presumably.
For some reason, it seemed a good idea to start changing in the parking lot. Only upper body stuff, no pants flying off at that point. So there we are, our upper halves geared up, still needing to get jocks, hockey pants, socks and skates on. So we grab our bags and head into the facility.
(Somehow, we lose one of our teammates. So it’s just me and one other teammates. Also, I have no idea who the teammates actually are, but I knew they were from my real-life team.)
We walk inside this facility, and as you could have guessed from the size of the parking lot, it’s also ridiculously huge. Some massive sports complex. Anyways, it’s obviously our first time here, because we have no idea where we’re going. That anxiety is compounded by the fact that we’re late.
The person at the lobby desk shows us a map — which looks identical to the map of O’Hare airport — and directs us where we have to go. We take off and as we get to the area where our team has just started the game, they’re in a pool. In bathing suits. Not in hockey gear. Not playing hockey.
Without missing a beat, I yell out “I’ll be out there in a few!” and we run into the locker room…and continue to get dressed in hockey gear. As I’m suiting up, I turn to my left and Justin Bieber is sitting there getting geared up as well. Justin Fucking Bieber is apparently on my hockey team. We start to have a conversation that goes somewhat like this:
Me: “So, Justin, are you playing for us this winter?”
JB: “Nah, I don’t think so.”
Me: “What the fuck man?”
JB: “Sorry. ….. Hey, by the way, I know of something that can help your acne.”
(At this point, he compares something on my face to a vagina, but this part of the dream is fuzzy.)
(Also, at this point, the dream jumps to a different point in time…)
Now I’m in the back seat of another car. A regular sedan, black. I’m laying down in the backseat and we’re driving through mountains, and it’s very foggy. The car has the air conditioning on and for some reason, there’s a vent in the door, right by where my head is resting. The air is blowing right on my face, very cold. Also, I distinctly remember that my feet are FREEZING and will not warm up.
* * *
It’s at this point I woke up. Woke up and was so very confused.
Side note: When telling someone about this dream, I mentioned that at least Bieber being in there wasn’t TOO random. “Why do you say that?” “He’s Canadian and played hockey.” “HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS!?” “It was on Puck Daddy a bunch of times, don’t judge me.”
It must have been the rum last night.
But I thought that was a funny and random dream, and wanted to share it. Feel free to do crackpot dream analysis on it and tell me I’m a serial killer with homoerotic tendencies or something.