Dreams are fascinating… so much so that millions of books on the subject have been sold. Most of these books are on deciphering dreams which is a favorite past-time of Jason and and mine – especially deciphering mine because they rarely make any sense or are straight forward. The most bizarre dreams I have are typically had during the last REM cycle of the 7-9 hr duration of sleep.

Last night/this morning was no exception, and what this one meant… well, I have no idea. It was one of those “I-know-I’m-dreaming” dreams, and you’re watching it like a movie from many different angles – a 3rd person view.

Here is what I remember (sorry, I omitted some of it for you, Jason… you were in a hurry this morning):

I was in a very large, empty, high rise apartment with high ceilings. My view was from the ceiling looking down at this giant fireplace that is large enough for a tall family of six to walk into for a group hug. Kim Kardashian (congrats on  your new baby) walked into my line of sight as if she was surveying the place. No, Kanye wasn’t there. Anyway, she began to talk to another lady in a cherry red, modestly cut, business suit. The lady had a somewhat dated hairstyle with a little too much backcombing (teasing) going on. Ah! She must be a Realtor.

They were touring the apartment when a shift occurs. Kim Kardashian noticed some Disney Princess stickers arranged on one of the pillars which my mind zoomed in on. POOF! Kim K. and the Realtor had disappeared leaving a fully furnished place with a family living there. There was a little girl with dark curly hair talking in the the corner to, what was understood to be, a Greek Muse. Yes, Greek Mythology rears its head in my dreams, again.

Then, there were other mythological characters, but they were really concerned with being kicked out of the home if they were “found out”. So, the dream shifted to another issue… keeping Greek Mythology alive and well living with this nice black family.

Shift again to…

The Realtor and Keenan Ivory Wayans show up at this function which is understood to be in the same building. It was a penthouse restaurant/bar with lots of windows and sunlight. The reason this lady was with a Wayans brother is because she needed an interpreter. Yes, a white lady needed an interpreter at a function where there are mostly people of African-American decent.

At this point… I’m disturbed by this dream while I’m dreaming. Am I frustrated with casual racism?

One of the bartenders hands Mr. Wayans a bottle of tequila. However, this was no ordinary bottle. It had Mr. Wayans’s face on the label. He opened the bottle, and it instantly became ice cold because it had a tiny nitrogen capsule that cooled it.

Flash over across the bar to none other than Janet Jackson carrying clipboard. Her entourage wasn’t there, and she was clutching the clipboard to her chest. She turned her back to my vantage point and was crying. Her lease application hadn’t been approved. I felt really bad for her.

And, then, I woke up.

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