A/N: I had to keep a dream journal once, for an art class of mine.
The following was not one of my dreams, but it kind of follows the style of 'wake up blearily in the middle of the night, scribble down key words, puzzle over it upon waking the next day.'
Enjoy.
Mr. Gold's Dream Journal
Day Two
3:15 a.m.: George Washington. Cookies. Cripples.
8:43 a.m.: I have no idea what the above is supposed to mean. It made sense when I wrote it down. If I recall correctly, spiders were involved and the cookies were shaped like George Washington's face.
10:54 a.m.: I remembered part of it: the cookies were pink. Perhaps salmon-colored. A shade of light red, anyway. Martha Washington was not, in this dream, married to George Washington. She was, however, an obsessed stalker, which is almost the same as far as I'm concerned. That's all I can recall.
12:31 p.m.: Lunch break, and I'm writing in this dream journal. Fantastic. I f I get pickle stains on the pages, you have only yourself to blame. I remembered that there was a crippled servant girl in the dream. She was painting frosting on the wall rather than on the cookies, but I'm not altogether sure that frosting existed in the 18th Century anyway. Martha was very excited about this wall-frosting, as when she slapped some on the sandstone, it assembled a vaguely Washington-esque profile.
12:35 p.m.: She began to worship it.
3:21 p.m.: George Washington, if I recall correctly, was injured in the war and came home crippled. This is not a commentary on myself. George regretfully arrived at Martha, responding to her invitation about the amazing servant girl and her eerie impromptu portraitures of famous war heroes, all of which were done in frosting and looked suspiciously similar to George Washington.
4:00 p.m.: George ate a cookie. He left.
4:12 p.m: At some point, he may or may not have sat. I know there were armchairs involved. Also, there was a very idiotic red-haired soldier in Washington's command who kept trying to help the troops by bringing them ammunition, only to find that the boxes were open and he was carrying them upside-down. This is a reflection on you.
10:34 p.m.: After watching television, I remembered that most of the above was actually an Adult Swim sketch which my weary brain distorted in some areas. I didn't dream last night; I might have passed out drunk.
The incompetent soldier is still a reflection on you.