A Pocket Guide to Crazy

I had another bizarre dream last night. I woke up this morning a little disgusted by my own imagination and that it is able to concoct such nonsense. I have somehow became severely disturbed.

So ... I was walking along a lonely highway, not a car in sight, picking up trash with one of those metal claws and a big trash bag slung over my back. I was wearing an orange community service vest, so this action was clearly court ordered. What did I do to deserve this punishment? I have no idea. The dream did not come with a back story and I woke up before I ever found out. Anyway, I continue to pick up trash until I come across a naked corpse. Yes, a corpse ... and that isn't even the strangest part. I don't get scared or start hyperventilating, I just say to myself, "I need to get this cadaver out of here before other people see it and freak out". So I pick it up and put it in the bag on my back. What in the hell?! Gross! How do I just randomly lift a dead, rotting corpse off the ground with ease? Ew. All of a sudden I'm back home, but it's not my 'real' house, its my house in the dream. I live in one of those studio apartment complexes that are so tiny they have a community kitchen, instead of individual ones in each unit. You know the ones ... they have a lot of them downtown.

Anyway, I walk to the kitchen, with the bag of trash and dead body, and proceed to shove the whole thing into a pantry space above the sink. At the risk of repeating myself - what in the hell?! Gross! After this, I finally start feeling panicked, but only because I'm afraid people will still find the body, not because I stuffed it next to some canned goods. I decide that if I paint the kitchen red no one will think to look for a body (seemed like a good idea mid-REM sleep). The body is not bleeding or anything, so why red? Not sure, but I'm guessing it's just blatant foreshadowing. After painting it, I sit there and watch people come in and out of the kitchen, feeling very proud of myself that they are none the wiser. Obviously, I need therapy.

Okay, there are two established facts in this hallucination - first, I did not kill the person, even though I am obviously some sort of delinquent, considering I found it while serving mandatory community service. Second, the body doesn't scare me, the only reason I am so anxious is because I don't want people to find it. Needless to say, the dream was much more detailed than what I can remember so I may have forgotten some key points. The more complicated this dream gets, the more unsettled I become. I hope you don't label me a psychopath after reading this, because I'm 97% sure I am not.


I bought "A Pocket Guide to Dreams" today at Borders to further investigate the meaning behind my dead body stashing/ DIY kitchen makeover. It was $3.99 and I am choosing to believe that I just found a fantastic deal and it is not a reflection of the content quality.

Why am I so weird?