Posts Tagged ‘Joseph Gordon -Levitt’

I just woke up from a bizarre and very lengthy dream.
It started out at a lake, though I have a suspicion that it started before the lake and I just can’t remember before that point. For some reason I have a faint recollection of fast cars and street races.
Anyway, it was as if I was part of a paranormal detective agency tasked with the removal of dangerous supernatural objects from the mortal world. Joseph Gordon-Levitt was involved for some reason, but I digress.
As part of a prank of sorts, fraternities were dumping their bros in this lake asleep as an initiation rite, only to have the bros run out of the lake screaming and psychologically damaged. Curious, I examined the lake with Joseph and a sassy Latina sidekick that had turned up (it was kinda like Psych and the X Files with a cliche installed). There were many students there taking a hike, presumably there for another initiation-type deal (bros aplenty). Shortly after arriving at the lake, the path split and Joseph and I split from the sassy Latina girl to cover more ground. Never heard from her again.
I noticed from the cliffs above the lake a strangely glowing metallic crab with a chain attached to it, like some sort of underwater bling. Soon after noticing it, a very leggy blonde woman modeled after a crush from my elementary school appeared on the path with us, claiming to have raced a crab (on a gigantic friendly seahorse). Suspicious, I believed the crab was the source of all the problems. I found no problem withe the seahorse, however.
It was at this point that the dream shifted strangely, and it was as if I was in a dorm room (one much larger and nicer than mine with great swinging balcony doors) amidst a torrential downpour (sadly lacking Joseph Gordon-Levitt). I asked my roommate (Logan, an awesome roommate who I might add has no interest in alcohol until he is of legal age to have such interest) to procure some liquor for me, which, after much complaining, he set out to do. I watched him go to a liquor store down the hall (?) and retired into my chambers, satisfied that he would be back soon. After a half hour, he was not back, and I then noticed him entering his girlfriend’s place.
Cursing his libido, I withdrew into my room and soon a knock came at my door. It should be noted at this point that I was apparently still in a relationship with my ex-girlfriend in the dream, rather than my current and wonderful girlfriend.
At the door was a girl from my freshman year who I remember as being very tiny and with an unhealthy obsession for a certain Disney-related actor with more muscles than acting ability. She came inside and started unabashedly hitting on me, causing me to take pity on her and deliver an apologetic kiss onto her cheek. She apparently took this to be foreplay, stripping off her clothes and masturbating furiously. At this point I fled the room, yelling over my shoulder that I had a girlfriend.
Suddenly I was in Target. I saw my mom picking out a basketball (?) and went to talk to her. She was expressing concern that I hadn’t called lately. I assured her that I was all right and just being crushed under the weight of my classes. Nevertheless she insisted that I show her my room, just to make her feel better. I complied, against my better judgment.
When we arrived back from the room, I noticed several things:
One, Logan had returned with the liquor at some point, which was on my bed.
Two, the tiny girl was still there but accompanied by two bleached-blonde slutbunnies who were apparently getting ready for a party.
Three, there was a small adorable Weimaraner puppy there.
Guess which one my mom noticed first?
As she played with the puppy I literally dived across the room, knocking a slutbunny out of my way and shoving the liquor bottle under my bed. My mom diverted her attention from the dog to cleaning the rest of my room, clucking like an old Jewish hen the whole way.
At this point, a manager from my place of work in real life appeared in our full uniform (visor included) and announced that she was looking for illegal alcohol (though why she was there in housing was baffling). Confident that she wouldn’t find anything, I was crestfallen when she picked up a bottle of Patron that the slutbunnies had apparently brought (I praise their taste) and placed on the table, which I somehow missed in my mad dash. The tiny girl and the slutbunnies immediately fled.
Saying “That’s not mine” over and over again like I was in some sort of college student purgatory, I soon woke up in a terror.
Then I remembered, my dorm room doesn’t have a balcony, I’m not with my ex anymore, and my manager definitely doesn’t work for housing. So here I am.
I miss Joseph.