The Sickie Chronicles, Part 1

So my Thanksgiving meal last night consisted of two bites of mashed potatoes, one bite of turkey, and a cookie. I was so full, I thought I was going to burst. It must have been the handful of Sun Chips I had an hour before that. But my dreams were bizarre, not because they were especially vivid, but because when I woke up, I could remember pretty much their entire progression. I'm losing them now, because a good portion of consistent memory is stringing together the memorable scenes into a logical flow, and dreams really don't have that consistent logic, but I'll leave you with an excerpt: At this point, I was in a theatre and watching a play that was fading into a movie, but before I knew it the entiore dream was taken over by the images, and the fact that I was in a theatre was no longer part of the dream. In this part, everything was really simply animated, really simply drawn, over a green background.
Narrator: Gramma Emmy [A Komodo Dragon on a leash appears]
Narrator: Homer Simpson [A newspaper appears in the lizard's mouth]
Narrator: Gramma Emmy reads Homer Simpson [The lizard eats the newspaper]
[The lizard goes to bank of newspaper vending machines, breaks one open and eats everything in it]
Narrator: Gramma Emmy is learning how to read.
[The lizard breaks into another and eats a little off one paper]
Narrator: Gramma Emmy ate three paragraphs, but she says she read the whole page.
[The lizard eats a little out of one paper and sort of rubs its nose around in another vending machine]
Narrator: Gramma Emmy rearranges the words and adds fifteen that she stole, and she calls it her own. (in my mind, this is a reference to plagiarism)

That's about when I woke up, and realzied that I remembered the entire series of the dream, which had to do with a road trip, Harry Potter (there was a long Harry Potter interlude), some goofy game involving explosive lemonheads, talking with my friend Scott about movies that are coming up, walking through my old high school, watching some play about tolerance that had my friend Amy and someone who looked like Samuel L. Jackson in it, and then it sort of faded into a street scene where Gramma Emmy had her day. And no, I never had a Grandmother named Emmy.