Kirsten? Kristen? Who cares?

Ok I just woke up. I know it's one o'clock, stop judging me. I want to write this dream out while I still remember it.

Well. Somehow I was forced into going to a presentation of some sort for Kristen Stewart, the chick who was in the twilight movies. In my dream, she had written the books.. I don't know if that's actually her name, or if it's spelled correctly, nor do I care. Clearly accuracy wasn't a key point here.

I told her her books were terrible, poorly written and had the shallowest, lazily developed characters I'd ever seen put on a piece of paper. She found my charm impossible to resist and asked me out to lunch. Being hungry, I said yes.

Big mistake. Not only was this dream person a complete vacuum of interest or personality (hereafter referred too as VP), she also somehow brought with her the fucking apocalypse. No sooner had I started to eat something (Previously, a key point in this twisted mental theatrical display was that I hadn't eaten in a really long time, and it was getting pretty important that I did. There is literally no other reason I would have agreed to this, except to continue to tell her how awful those books were.)

Right. I had just taken my first bite, and suddenly there's a creepy-ass face staring at me through the window. Well, I point out the creepy ass face, and probably say something condescending because I'm an asshole, and that face was decidedly creepy. So the face throws up blood all over the window. I still wanted to eat, but miss Vacuous Personality decided that we had to flee for our lives. Delicious Reuben, I never knew what came of thee.

So, fleeing for our lives down the street. Everyone in running in one direction, traffic is completely stuck, as you would expect. So what does VP do? STEALS US A VAN. IN GRIDLOCK.

I'm trying to explain the merits of foot travel over vehicle, presenting a great case for the Kyoto Accord, when suddenly traffic and foot travel is fleeing in the opposite direction.

Well ok, I guess we can drive away now.

So we begin to flee in the least gas efficient vehicle around. We are just getting to the point where all the excitement has worn off and now I'm stuck in a van with a person who has all the personality and conversational skills as a cardboard cut-out of Governor Schwarzenegger. Probably less, because those at least look cool.

Apparently, unbeknown to the both of us, the van was already full of occupants! And not just any occupants, televised stereotypical ones! Charlie and Allen's mother from Two and a Half Men! Drunk on wine, even! The very large Indian fellow from One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest! A fat, balding Danny Devito! (Who would inexplicably vanish) And a little girl, who would end up being the key to save us all.

So, we make a pit stop. Not somewhere useful like a grocery store, gas station, or munitions dump, oh no. We stop at an auditorium. At this point, I don't know if I'm more pissed at myself for dreaming this mess, or VP for being the worst driver (and dream plot device) I've ever known.

So, we've made the wise choice to venture into the auditorium.

I would like to point out that we're still unarmed, there are not only zombies and vampires, but piles of other monsters as well.

Back to the auditorium. I bet the anticipation is killing you. What could be in this amphitheater that was so important as to risk our very lives in it's pursuit?

Who's line is it anyway. That's right. VP found a chest of props, and jumped around on stage performing one-person improv.

Cleverly, the rest of us had decided to sit as far away as possible. Not so clever, in retrospect, was our decision to put out backs up against a giant curtain. Poor old drunk lady stereotype never saw it comin.

Something awful, some horrible creature from the nether planes, reached out, and tried to pull her back in. She freaked out, understandably, so said large creature just found it easier to TEAR HER IN TWO PIECES.

As if this wasn't terrible enough, a large group of Cannibals came out of nowhere, presumably attracted to the scent of wine and blood. Oh, and unlike us, they had thought ahead and brought guns. Lots of guns.

Fortunately, they aim like stormtroopers and we make it to a hallway. Large Indian man says something like "We have to go back for her body! We can't let them just eat her legs! (I guess the demon got the top half after all).

So he turns around, and immediately, someone shotguns him. Great. Thanks, L.I.M.

VP and I manage to get outside. This is where the prophecy of the little girl who will save us all comes into play.

She has tamed a dragon. That's right. A big, raging, bad-ass pile of teeth, claws and fiery breath. It was also gold, so that was neat.

Prophecy Girl and Big Gold Dragon make short work of the nasties, and give me a lift back to where we started so I can get my car and go home. Apparently she had cleansed the town of the impure in the meantime as well. At no point through any of this did it occur to me that Danny Devito had been left behind at the murder-theater.

So I get home. I unpack my things, and me being me, bust out my laptop. Thing. Is. A. Mess.

I mean, I just went through hell and back for no reason, and I remained perfectly unscathed. Even VP, despite her complete lack of anything resembling cognitive functioning (and yet she still drove? wtf?) had made it out without a scratch.

Everything I owned though? Blasted to pieces despite being safe and not moving at all. Well, alright.

Shortly after that I woke up. I'm a little disappointed that there was no proper conclusion, since that dream was WACKY.

I'll leave you to ruminate on this one, with one piece of advice.
Don't eat hot mustard and garlic balogna right before you fall asleep.