I hate my dreams.
Even the ones that are supposed to be really cool end up being all kinds of fucked up, like the one time I dreamed that I sprouted the wings of a warrior angel from my back, and I took off into the sky only to end up in outer space and unable to get back into Earth's atmosphere, and somehow ending up inside the sun and being burned alive.
Maybe it's not so much my dreams that's completely screwed up than it is me.
Which brings me to what happened one night in college:
I toss and turn in my sleep a lot. I tend to prefer falling asleep on my back, because I won't have to find the perfect position for my arms or anything. Inevitably, though, I will always end up on my stomach or my side, the covers turned sideways, and my feet on my pillow. The effects of how uncomfortable I am when I sleep are compounded by the fact that I never have normal dreams.
Trust me, I'm going somewhere with this.
One night, I had a dream I was attacked by a monster similar to the trolls from "David The Gnome". It couldn't have been anything cool, like the black guy from "Reading Rainbow", or something I know I could kick the shit of like Sponge from "Salute Your Shorts".
Either way, this thing had claws and really sharp teeth, and he was thoroughly kicking my ass. I would try punching him in the snout, kicking him in the nuts, sticking my thumbs in his eyes, and even biting him like a little bitch. But it was all in vain. He had me on the ground, and his hand clamped down on my inner thigh as he bit into my stomach. But what wrenched me awake wasn't the fact that I could practically feel him chewing on my insides.
Something was grabbing and digging its nails into my inner thigh, and it really fucking hurt.
I began to kick wildly. Whatever was gripping my leg refused to let go. I took my left arm and pried some fingers off. My roommate must've been fucking with me.
"What the FUCK are you doing, Ryan!?" I began to yell.
"Huh!? What the fuck are you talking about!?" He asked from across the room.
I may have been half awake, but I knew something was completely fucked. I looked down, and realized that my left hand was holding my very numb right hand. I had fallen asleep on my right arm, and my hand clamped down on my own leg in response to the bad dream, which is completely screwy in its own right because I didn't even know that a numb hand could move in the first place.
Bruises were already beginning to appear on my thigh, after I explained the whole thing to my roommate.
"You're fucking weird, man." Ryan politely explained to me before he fell asleep again.
I paused. He was right. I'm a pretty bizarre guy.
"Dude?" I asked after a moment.
"What if it were my balls?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"There are bruises on my leg. What if my own hand crushed my balls?"
"Then you wouldn't have a sack. Let me sleep, you psycho."
I mulled over it for a minute more.
"Ryan?" I asked one more time.
"WHAT!?" He shouted.