I had a very strange dream last night, and since I can’t remember right now what else I was going to blog about, here it is:
I was out with three friends: Two boys, one girl. I’m not sure who these people were, but if I see them again, I’ll get names. I drove where ever we were going, but one of the boys volunteered to be the designated driver for the night. (What a responsible dream!) Oh, and I was trying to avoid robots. Giant, building-size, 1950s-style robots. I’m not sure why.
Fun was had. The girl and I went to get one last drink — I ordered a gin and tonic, which is weird, because gin knocks my off my feet quicker than anything else. The girl had ordered the same thing, then switch to beer because she was “too drunk.” I know, she should’ve just stopped drinking at that point.
We found the boys and got in the car to leave — boys up front, girls in the back. (It was a dark red car, but not mine. I mean, I think in dream-world it belonged to me, but it was not the dark-red car I drive in real life. It was more of a sedan with distinct lines — maybe a Cadillac.) Sadly, upon getting in the car the designated driver popped the top on a bottle of beer. (So much for responsible dreams.)
We started home and I warned the driver to watch out for the robots. That’s when they all told me that I was the only one who could see the robots.
And then the driver stopped in the middle of an intersection, grabbed a giant yellow and orange cartoonish hammer (I’m not sure where it had been) and jumped into an open manhole.
End of dream.
Please, watch out for giant robots (if you can see them) and open manholes. I do not recommend approaching either of them.