Fun with Freud

I just woke up after some interesting dreams. Here's a quick review...

Gone Fishing
My family went away for the weekend. Apparently, we were going for a relaxing fishing vacation at Jennifer Lopez' farm in Arkansas. That's right, JLo's farm. Anywho, I rode in past a creek posted with a bunch of unmanned fishing rod contraptions. There were a lot like ones pictured in the National Geographic article on ice fishing a few months back except that they were full-sized and on the banks of an idyllic stream. I'm in a truck with these two hillbilly guys who kept bragging that they sold JLo the property in exchange for songwriting credits on an upcoming song. They'd drafted a few things but hadn't been able to get them to her because "she's been so dang busy."

Finally, we arrive at a point where I had to get out and walk. I'm walking through a tall stand of reeds. They keep hitting me in the face and I attempt to swat them out of the way. Turns out, these things aren't canes at all, they're more of these automatic fishing poles contraptions were on the stream. I feel a pang of remorse because I'd created something very similar years earlier but hadn't patented it. Judging by how many were on JLo's farm, I could have been quite rich.

After hiking through this forest of automatic fishing rods, I make it to the cabin where everyone is staying. It's mostly my family but some complete strangers as the cabin includes an Applebee's restaurant or something because a lot of people are here watching an NBA finals game. Anywho, the place is nice.

Sometime later, we go fishing. We're in the middle of a stream, standing on a marshy little island. My parents and aunts and uncles are there. Next, my dad and I are standing on top of a bar stool which is on top of a table on the marshy island in the stream. (?) Dad's holding a baby. I'm standing behind him trying to keep my balance. He starts rocking the stool. Against my pleas to stop, he keeps on rocking it until I start to lose balance. He keeps telling me not to worry. No matter, I'm worrying. The stool tips and we fall. I tumble to the ground unhurt. Dad, like he's a ninja, gently glides down as if he's running down the stool to ground.

Dad's unhurt and the baby's absolutely fine. He turns to me and says some ninja wisdom crap. Too late, I'm pissed off and sulking and go find a place to sit down.

I ain't gonna fish on JLo's farm no more.

Dream Six Flags
I'm at Dream Six Flags with my parents, sister, and J3K. Dream Six Flags is just like regular Six Flags except that it's in my dream and, as expected, some of the rules are bent. So, we're driving around looking at the rides making our way to the Log Jamboree. As we're going downhill, we pass a morbidly obese woman struggling to get up the hill in what I can best describe as a paddleboat that's been poorly converted for use on land. At Dream Six Flags, there are tons of sidewalk trails for these things.

"She's never going to make it," I say.

Mom jumps in to the woman's defense and tells me how good a person this woman probably is and that I should give her a break about her weight.

I reply, "I wasn't talking about her weight, mom. A few weeks ago, I tried going up the same hill in one of those things. It's impossible; you just can't do it. The trail is too narrow for that thing she's riding."

If you're ever at Dream Six Flags, stay out of the paddleboats. The trails suck. You'll have to portage a ton. It's really not worth the effort.

Anyway, we finally make it to the Log Jamboree. I notice from the posted sign that only five more logs will be floating today. We should hurry, I think. I mosey up to the counter and ask for five tickets. The lady at the window tell me the total and I pull out $30 to pay her. She takes the money and asks for my zip code, email address, and phone number. When I tell her, in no uncertain terms, that I do not wish to be placed on a marketing list that will send me catalogs, clutter my inbox with spam, or ring me with unsolicited phone calls, she bristles and phones security. I'm not being irate, I'm just calmly telling her that I don't want to be on a marketing list. I just want to ride the ride with my family and friend.

From the ceiling, she pulls down a periscope like she's on a submarine and tries to scan my retinas. She asks me what type of work I do. I'm getting angry. For the love of God, I just want to put everybody in a fiberglass log and ride down the damned Jamboree, what's the problem? Security shows up in force behind the glass counter. The countdown sign has dropped to one. We're on the last log out of this mess, I think.

Panicking, I tell everyone to get in the log. They have my money, we're going. As we pile in, this enormous overhead door starts closing, threatening to ability to enter the ride. We make a break for it. My parents and sister make it under the door. I'm trapped inside with J3K. I run back to the counter to demand a refund only to notice that the a metal security door is closing over the glass. The lady on the other side sneers at me. I'm banging the glass, screaming for my money sort of like Hoffman at the end of "The Graduate."

I run outside and wait at an exit for security to come out. Finally, one guy comes out. I demand to know who I can speak to about this poor service and treatment. He refers me to his manager. When I ask his name, he says "Employee 14" and walks off. Defeated, I go back inside the building to get J3K and leave. He's on the internet watching a replay of his favorite Yankees game. He tells me not to worry, it's a great game.

Six Flags Over Georgia
In the moments after I woke before coming to the computer to type this, I honestly thought this in my head:

"Six Flags Over Georgia. To find the value of flags, multiple it by six and divide by Georgia. The equation would be something like: 6(flags)/Georgia."

The transformation is almost complete; the little normalcy I enjoyed is slipping away.