My friend called me up and told me we had to go on an expedition
. I asked, "Where to?" He replied, "Outer space
." This seemed all too weird, and I asked him if he could hang on. I then went to my calendar. It was very dynamic. It had spaces alotted for specific events that would be happening on what days, too organized. However, instead of looking at August 10
, I was looking at August 20th
(2 Sundays from now). Under this, I had yoga
classes, underwater basketweaving
, and something called JR52 (or something, I couldn't read it). When you pressed down on the calendar, a pop-up window told you what each event was. I hit JR52, and a message (this gets weird), saying "cout '"time to make the donuts
.'" I had this one lucid moment in the dream, where I thought, "Syntax error
s can really fuck up your calendar."
I forgot I had left my friend on hold, and rushed back and told him I was free for the day (despite that I wasn't?). He made a large exclaim of noise like in those auto-insurance commercials with the screaming customers. "I knew we'd be able to fight justice tonight with a hair curler!" I asked him what that meant and he tried to explain to me that our expedition would take us through Anchorage and Yukon. He told me he'd be over to pick me up in an hour or two and to be ready. I didn't know what to take on an expedition through Canada and Alaska, so I packed what seemed right, which really wasn't right for a dream: coffee mugs, family-size pack of condoms, one of those poiuyt optical illusion toys (you know, with the three prongs), and I think, though I'm not sure, some boxes of Ramen.
Later that afternoon, I heard a car horn honk, playing the tune of Scotland the Brave (or something close to that). I ran out the door expecting it to be my friend, but instead, it was his friend Goda, who I haven't seen since I was twelve. He blew me a kiss, and screamed something at me, but I can't remember what. The next part was hazy, something about my cat and how Adam would not be able to join us because he was tied up in the trunk. I was directed to address him as the new love of my life, and every time he looked at me, I had to kiss him. Kissing him reminded me of kissing my cat. We drove for 2 days before we reached the western U.S. and the border or Canada, and I progressed to vomit on the officer on duty, who didn't allow us to pass through. Something about Canada being a clean nation, and punks like us would just ruin things. I had a brief flash of the wannabe-punks on the escalator in SLC Punk, and I woke up.