A Tour Through Dreamland

Monday
I’m Michael Jackson’s therapist. We’re all living in big white tents, the ones used for functions, in a grassy field, though I think Michael himself lives in a gracious, rustic wooden house on the site. It’s like a big day camp/corporate outing center. Poor Michael never did molest any children, I learned as his therapist. He genuinely likes children, but mostly he wants to meet women by being a dad. Women have trouble seeing the real Michael through all the fame, money, and celebrity, and he needs ways to connect with them on a human level. In fact, he made himself look feminine so that women would relate to him. All the adopting and plastic surgery were ways of saying, I’m human, too, and lonely. Turns out I’m a damn good therapist. I got skillz.

Tuesday
I’m walking around a pool. It turns out I’m pregnant.

I woke up with gas.

Wednesday
I’m in a science class dealing with worms. Worms are gross. These look like tapeworms, long and flat and white, but they aren’t intestinal. The teacher (wearing a white lab coat) doesn’t understand why I don’t want to touch the worms. They just gross me out, I explain. He assures me that they’re harmless and perhaps even friendly. I touch them. They crawl onto the back of my neck and attach there. I tell the teacher and ask him to remove them, but he reassures me they’re harmless and maybe even good for me.

They hurt, though. Trying to pull them off myself, I run into my boss, who helps me remove them. They’ve grown fat with my blood. She helps me remove two. The third one turns out to be a cobra, which has latched its venomous fangs right around my vertebral column. I rush to the hospital, where it’s someone else who had the cobra poison in his neck. The doctors and I perform acupuncture to keep the venom from spreading into the CNS.

I woke up with a stiff neck.

Conclusion
I need to stop eating before bed.