navy seal's the deal

wow, readers, my subconscious is in tarsem singhesque overdrive lately. with the exception of this one where i find a moisturizer that is the exact color of my flesh (i awoke irked: 'really, brain, wtf?' but in brain's defense, the moisturizer wasn't greasy or tacky, blended in instantly and felt like air, i.e., awesome), i've been having dream after dream wherein i discover my amazing latent talents. (yes, recognizing a dunce upon which to pin one's homicide (see 'love/life sentence'), i've decided, is a gift.) and since they've also lent insight into man (get thee a man! as mentioned, e.g., you can blame him for stuff), i think it only right to share.

last night, for example, i dreamt i was a navy seal. and, like a navy seal, i was pulled around behind a helicopter shaped like an egg beater (only the beater-things were teeny, tiny propellers) as it zipped through the clouds in a high-altitude sky. i have to say this part of seal training (pardon my french) fucking rules. then there came the sea stuff, which was less remarkable, largely because as a youth i spent many an entire day in water (when i was a lass, my family summered on the shores of a land (i am no novice swimmer)). they, the seal people, said i had to swim an hour, which i'd totally done before, even if it was a dead man's float with the occasional kick. the toughest part was dealing with the other seals. e.g., on my first day in open water my partner took a pizza cutter and sliced her throat open wide, i guess because it was a slow kind of day, and all these sharks came, just like she said they would. because it was her fault, i sat on her back as she swam us to safety. then, after a light lunch, we had to catch an enemy. to do this, we watched an omniscient video a la spaceballs. the enemy was a gaunt, scruffy-looking dude, but once in the water he became aquaman, which came as a surprise. he summoned whales and fish; but the whales were big and clumsy and just bumped into us, and the fish tickled our feet. aquaman was furious, but at least we deemed him lame enough to let him get away.

my partner and i were celebrated for our triumphs that night, and that's when i realized we were the only females. that's right: there are roughly 1 million male seals to every female. not that that's the only--though of course the most, by far--rewarding thing to being a seal and serving one's country: you might just get the chance to be on 'the wanted,' which as far as i can tell has yet to cast women (not counting scandinavians).

you may be thinking, 'join the military, when there's a war--nay, two wars--going on?' but don't you think that if there were two wars going on, they would be all over the front pages of every newspaper, and there would be protests/music festivals galore? i reassert: DUDES! and tv!

a love/life sentence

i had a nightmare last night. i dreamt i murdered my friend 'frank' and buried him in my front yard. it was a shoddy job: i kicked an area of loose dirt aside then over him (it was an arid climate, as in utah). anyone step on him, or a strong wind come, and i was screwed. i thought of putting up a sign, 'keep off lawn,' but it wasn't a lawn. i was doomed. i waited on my sofa for the cops to come. i felt like such a loser--i'd killed someone, and done a sucky burial. i felt i deserved it all: prison, prison food (which would surely include iceberg lettuce), prison toilets, prison clothes, all-female--woahs! no, no, i couldn't go to jail, no way no how, or i'd die, dead.

i've no idea how i killed this person (funny, but that wasn't part of the dream), but i know it was without care (e.g., in plain daylight), planning, thought or even motive. i mean, i liked frank. if i were to get away with this murder, it was going to take a miracle: surely someone saw something, and all over town people were doing crossword puzzles, the solutions to which would reveal the killer (i carried them around, too, but of course didn't do them). the puzzles were like time bombs--never mind that the people were no good at crosswords! it seemed hopeless. i had to be brilliant.

when the cops came to question me, i mentioned casually that i was dating someone (in reality, i don't know this person), saying he was an odd, odd, odd! yet lovable bloke. they showed interest, and i said, 'ohhhh, no, not him--he's an angel! i mean, he's unpredictable and emotionally fragile--total loose canon!--but he's great. so sensitive...insane, troubled.... he loves his shrink.' turns out this guy looked anemic, foreign and though bookish a half-wit--i.e., for this scheme, perfect! but 'fabby' wasn't wholly without charm or appeal (think: a muted sacha baron cohen character), and it truly pained me to imagine framing him for murder. i vacillated. i asked myself, 'how could i live with contemptible me after this? how will i sleep at night? i mean, he's european--he will be EVERYONE'S bitch.' then i thought about sleeping in a prison exclusively bitches and was resolute.

fabby and i took a walk in the park, and i'll never forget the look on his face when he realized i was setting him up (i waved at the cops and pointed at him). when the cops started toward us, fabby threw down his puzzle book and ran. i was shocked and pleased, it was all so easy. fabby was so slow, the cops took a couple steps and grabbed him by the collar. i couldn't bear to watch, so i went to new york and rode a crazy chairlift running backward up hunter mountain.

because the hill people were suspicious, whispering and pointing, still laboring pitifully over their crosswords, i crawled under a house. my dear friend 'foubi,' a tall, blond manly man, was surfing the pacific ocean in the basement. he shouted over the crashing waves, 'you're innocent--INNOCENT!' i was shamed by this display of faith and said, 'what if it was me? what if i'm insane, and i did it?' 'no,' he yelled, 'it's a dream--A DREAM!' so i went inside to use the toilet. there were so many doors to the bathroom that i nearly peed my pants deciding which one to enter and then closing them all. then there was no toilet paper, so i sat there.

i was still hanging out on the toilet when some dude peeked in (i think it was his house). then my mom peeked in. i said to mom, 'i know it sounds crazy, but i took a liking to fabby. and i really thought this might, despite the whole wrongful imprisonment thing, make him fall in love with me--for being brilliant and clever, succeeding--for having a can-do attitude!' she stared at me. i said, 'he likes brainy.'

i don't have to explain myself! but i will

WHALES, i was going to write a lengthy and detailed explanation for my months-long disappearance, but i think it unnecessary (dammit, i'm the president). but, if you insist, let's just say it rhymes with 'grack binge' and move on.