Why are dreams always so weird? Like you're walking around town without a stitch of clothing on, or that you're flying or something. Or both.

My dream last night was no exception. Pity, really. I was a big-name DJ in the middle of a gig. I called myself "Das Sprinkles"... which is, strangely enough, what I want to call myself if I ever get around to remixing the song I want to.

Das Sprinkles. It's a combination of Sprinkles - a name my friend sometimes calls me when I call him "Dark" - and the word Das, which I reckon sounds OK with "sprinkles". Well, better than "De" or "Les".

Big gig. Naw. I shall never get the courage to go up on a stage with that many people. I don't even want to be a DJ. I am going to analyse numbers for a living... failing that, I'll set up my own multi-trillion-dollar software empire, beat Bill Gates at his own game. ("Tch! As if," says a small voice in the back of my head.)

Anywho, as soon as I finish the gig, I look down and I'm skydiving without a parachute. (Do dreams want to kill you or something?!?) I fly down and hit the ground, and I wake up and it's half past six. And I have that weird feeling all over my body, like people normally do when they wake up after dreaming they slipped, or fell, and hit the ground.

As I write this I am thinking many things. One is "What ARE dreams? Are they just things to keep our brains active while we're asleep, or the mind's way of making guilt suffered in the day resurface?" Another is "Why are dreams always so weird? You see people you don't particularly want to, you're doing stuff you don't want to, and at the same time you don't have enough money to buy some dream-type clothes!" I'm also thinking "What was Beethoven feeling when he performed his 9th?" Uh, on second thoughts, that was probably the wrong thing to write about.

Ooh goody, that was fun.

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