১৬ সেপ্টেম্বর, ২০০৮
Women have more nightmares.
Supposedly, according to some study. I'm mainly posting this because I think it's a good setup for punchlines and other comedy. I'm putting my "funny in the comments" tag on this. Please don't disappoint me.
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My sister, then in her 20s, once told me about a horrible dream regarding her being pursued by a giant earthworm.
My ability to remain composed deserves some sort of medal, I think.
If Palin gets in the White House, she'll dismiss the kitchen staff there like she did in Alaska, thus rationalizing "where's my dinner?" sexism throughout the land...
Women may have nightmares that a Jane Hamsher Bloggingheads episode will have a Crying Game ending.
I had a nightmare a couple days ago that I had to stop freelancing and go back to my old job. The horror.
If you're in the dream last night that she insists on telling you about, she will also tell you what you did wrong.
Not if you are married to the First Dude.
(Greta Van Susteren is smitten!)
Also, there are earthworms nine feet long in Australia, and you hear a gurgling sound when they are coming under you. Not sexually, just as they slithe on their underground routes. You catch them by tying them in knots. The Giant Gippsland Earthworm.
This proves that men don't dream about women.
I don’t know about women, in general, but I do know that every woman who has ever slept with me has let loose with a blood-curdling shriek and sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat and shaking like a leaf.
I’ve always attributed the phenomenon to an especially acute form of post-coital remorse.
I don't know about adults, but anecdotally, I can say that was absolutely true with my children. My oldest girl had horrible nightmares most nights, and my boy, well ... he sleeps like a ball of yarn.
To further the anecdote, my friends with kids of both sexes reported similar results.
A man needs a nightmare like a fish needs a bicycle.
My wife used to get these horrible, horrible blood-curdling nightmares.
But then one day, she realized that it wasn't a nightmare at all, and she really was waking up with me.
My ex-girlfriend was once mad at me for a week because I cheated on her in her dream. Not even in my dream. Hers. Though apparently it was with someone from General Hospital, so I got that going for me....
Kinda obvious seeing how "mare" is in the name.
TerriW, I have two kids, one of each, girl oldest, like you. They both sleep like rocks.
Women have nightmares. Men have nightstallions.
You may all groan now.
Some more than others.
Especially last week.
James said...
My ex-girlfriend was once mad at me for a week because I cheated on her in her dream. Not even in my dream. Hers.
My mom did that to my dad once. She was mad at him all day, he couldn't figure out why ... then she said it was something he did in her dream.
"I didn't actually do it!"
"But it was something you would do!"
Women also write the best horror stories. So it may be true that women have more nightmares than men.
Mrs. Bissage once had a nightmare that she appeared in public without wearing fancy shoes.
Women have more nightmares.
That would make sense if the theory of early women as hunter gatherers holds true.
Imagine having to do all that w/o a good pair of running shoes.
The horror.
Last night I dreamt that I saved Althouse's life. She was being pursued by a giant carrot and I lasooed the carrot by throwing really big onion rings over the thing. Then I jumped on my white horse and rode off into the sunset. People often ask me, how do you do it? And, I respond, I do it because I care.
Women have nightmares. Men marry them.
Ok, that's not even funny. True, but not funny.
Two women walk past a bar. Well, it could happen...
Take my wife, please.
That was no lady...
Dang, I got nuttin!
Am I an earthworm dreaming I'm a man or a man dreaming I'm an earthworm.
Earthworm Dreams
Dream Interpretation Earthworm
Dreaming of earthworms is a signal that you need to be more considerate in pursuing your life's goals. Seeing an earthworm: don't disregard other people hard work, be more frugal yourself. Using earthworms for bait: you are following your own path, you are often inconsiderate and sometimes even unscrupulous.
Don'cha just LOVE the Internet?
I demand nightmare parity. Where's my government nightmare program, dammit?
Oh wait. That'd be the IRS.
Not only do men have shorter lives, they have fewer nightmares.
Guys; always getting out of work.
A man works from sun to sun.
A woman's work is never done.
"men and women dream differently..."
Men dream of good looking, hot women. Women dream of cheesecake. Nightmares are when they can't find the cheesecake.
Variation of others:
Most women have been, are, or know people, married to men.
Men dream about sex and its fantasy (meaning not a nightmare). Bad thoughts come when awake.
I dreamt of a giant earthworm. One with a threatening maw. But I was atop this gigantic earthworm, riding it, controlling it with reins that connected into shovels dug into its scales at its sides near the bottom, opening the scales so that the worm adjusted to relieve discomfort caused by abrading sand, for the worm moved forward through sand, and maneuvered according to my controls. And then I proclaimed, victoriously, "There's a storm coming. OUR STORM !!! " And all the other warriors, also worm riders in the sand, cheered enthusiastically .
Then I woke up. Oddly, wearing a sander's paper air filter mask.
Although the accumulating impending sand storm was dark and foreboding, this was not a nightmare in the usual sense.
Oh wait. A bit of confusion here. Never mind.
You want funny in the comments?
A grasshopper goes into a pub and hops up onto the bar. The bartender looks at him and says: "You know, we have a drink named after you." The grasshopper replies: "You have a drink named Larry?"
I have a recurring nightmare where I'm stuck in a room with Rachel Ray and my remote is broken. I hit mute several times but she keeps banging on. I throw the remote at her head. It connects but causes her to talk louder and even more rapidly. She's chopping potatoes and talking about her uncle. Then she talks about all the vegetable that could substitutea for potatoes. Then she talks about the history of potatoes. The variety of potatoes. The thousands of methods and implements for processing potatoes, naming them individually.
I yell, "Rachel Ray are you paid by the word or what ‽"
She continues describing different ways to cut potatoes, proper knife care, what to look for when buying potatoes, where they're grown, things they go with, and a story about her cousin.
She's gesticulating like a football referee giving signals. She slices the air with her arm, she jerks her thumb over her shoulder, she waves both hands across each other, makes scooping motions, points with both fingers at the working surface, points to the refuse bowl, makes a rolling motion, enunciates every single move she makes while cooking, "now I'm turning on the water, now I'm washing my hands, now I'm turning on the stove, removing from the heat, adding water, now I'm adding salt, then she points at the viewer, jabs her finger at the viewer, makes more expansive hand motions dismissed by the deaf as being overly exaggerative, and on and on and on.
I turn my head and cover my ears but I can still see her flailing arm movements in all the reflective surfaces. I cover my ears but I can't press hard enough and her scathing voice comes through, I throw a heavy pot at her head but it bounces off and she continues unfazed. A sense of helplessness consumes me, and I fall on my back with my legs kicking wildly at the air.
Then I suddenly wake up. The Food Network is on in my bedroom and my legs are tangled in the bed covers. Blessedly, the remote really does work and the nightmare abruptly ends.
The dreams are never nightmare per se, but the events within them take a turn for the oppressive. This is a signal within the dream to employ the dreamer's dream abilities. For instance, if your feet are stuck in the mud, that's your chance to leap forward or to make an attempt to fly. If you're backed into a corner, the dreamer may attempt to go through walls. This exercising of dream abilities usually doesn't occur until faced with a problem and pressed to perform. It could be viewed as disturbing, or nightmarish, but it's not necessarily.
For myself, the sudden appearance of certain individuals within a dream signal the pleasant dream is taking a turn for the worse. Because suddenly disappointment, betrayal, or conflict of interest is immediately introduced. This is also my signal to try out a new approach, a new technique, a new dream ability, a fresh way to be. Control within the dream is of utmost importance, the only other recourse is to wake up and end the discomfort, and that's unsatisfactory.
I'm going through inspection at the airport. The agents fail to return my leather jacket. I ask for it. They retrieve it from a small concealed closet. It occurs to me they intended to steal it. I chide them, being careful to be direct but not harsh lest they use their unearned and undeserved police power over me and have me arrested. They're embarrassed. Taking the jacket back from them caused me to realize how nice it actually is, fine subtle leather in extraordinary design, it would have angered me to forfeit it. They return my change with includes three American coins and three unknown but larger heavier gold coins. I read the coins. Now this is unusual in a dream, to read something in the palm of my own hand. In a circular pattern it reads: 100 Brazilianos, whatever those are. They belong to passengers that were in front of me in the line. I point out this mistake to the agents and return the coins to them. The passengers the coins belong to are well ahead. It occurs to me in that moment the agents are corrupt and intend to keep the gold. I realize I just made it easier for them. I should be happy I have my jacket, and I am, but now I'm mad as hell at TSA, but helpless to further control anything about the situation --the whole situation about airport security and a return to the days when flying was pleasant. My dream abilities failed me and that's a nightmare, or as close as I get to one.
I wake up. Still mad at TSA. This dream, nightmare if you like, happened last week and altered my view of Homeland Security. Permanently. At this point, I don't care what happens to any of it.
True dream. My worst one.
I am in a white room, with a white kitchen table, white tablecloth, white plate, cup, and utensils.
The plate has a small serving of green beans on it.
That was the entire goddamned dream. It went on forever and I woke up very pissed off because I could have been having fun in my dream. Flying, screwing, fighting Nazis, saving the distressed damsel.
Bit nnnooooo, I have to look at beans.
Criminey.
Now I am afraid to die, because where I'm headed surely has this same room waiting for me.
It musta been a nightmare!
Har(e), har(e). har(e)!
Poor Bugs.....
A man is never complete until he's married to a woman with nightmares. Then's he's finished.
Nah. I got nothin'.
Some women have had at least a dozen men, and every one of them was a nightmare.
As far as a nine foot long earthworm, that isn't the scariest earthworm. I think it is Ascaris. Which is usually 18 inches to two feet long, and it lives as a parasite in human intestines (though in cases of severe overpopulation some of them can make their way up into your esophagus and crawl around in there.
My own nightmare involves a catastrophic economic collapse, of the type where millions of people are living under bridges and eating boiled weeds for dinner, and we have President Sarah Palin to figure out how to fix the problem.
Shake and bake - the best punchline in that joke is not Larry, it's Murray. I have been testing that joke for years, with lots of different names. Nothing gets a better laugh then Murray. With the slightest hint of an unidentifiable accent (slightly Jewish, but maybe Italian, definitely second-generation New York something, but without the tough guy posturing). Try it sometime.
And Chip Ahoy - the Rachel Ray dream sounds like something out of Delillo - White Noise maybe. If you were trying to imitate Delillo, well done. If not, then he's somehow set up a little enclave in your brain. Which would be really freaky if you've never read him.
I had a horrible dream last night. I was on my snowmachine headed towards Nome. The engine started running real rough. It was -30F. It the engine quit I was toast. Up ahead dim lights and a cabin. I'm saved, I thought. I throw open the cabin door hoping that all that light meant warmth. Not a chance. There on the tanning bed was Obama and in front of a glowing teleprompter, Palin. I awoke with a cold sweat.
Women have more nightmares, but it's the fault of men that they do.
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