Dreamquest of Unknown Tennis Courts

I had such a bizarre dream last night that I had to tell you all.

I live for dreams like these, odysseys, voyages through my own subconscious. Last time I had a dream this elaborate I turned into a giant slug creature and went on a ski trip. There were also dragons. Either way, the very same morning of my writings this I had a journey that would take so many twists and turns that I began to doubt what was real.

It didn't begin last night though, while I do remember last night's dream it had little to do with the dream-quest. In a way it was only a prelude, or a prequel to what was to come.

Last night, I was in an enormous bookstore that may have doubled as a model home. This would make sense, because I've wanted to go see some model homes recently, just for old time's sake. Either way, I was trapped in this huge building, filled with books, with some dudes. They were all dressed in military fatigues and carried what looked like Smith & Wesson 76's. I had no doubt that they wanted to kill me so I started to search for a hiding place. Surprisingly, I don't think I had a gun. Ignoring this disappointment, I ran across a lawn that seemed to split the building in half. On the other side was a sort of cabin with more books in it. There was a back room behind here, it was very dark and there was a disco ball. Even further, behind a bead-curtain door is yet more books but also C3-PO and R2-D2. Again, this doesn't come as a surprise because last night I was listening to the disco version of the Star Wars theme song.

To my surprise, it wasn't the armed dudes who killed me, but my sister. It makes sense, it's always one's greatest fear that people confront in their dreams.

I woke up, and immediately set about writing down what had happened. It was 7:45 and I was still tired. I barely remembered falling asleep again...

I was in my house, my whole family was sitting around a table. Unlike my real house, this one is full of clutter and antiques. The entire building appears to be constructed from the same very dark, almost black, wood material.

Suddenly, we're outside and a swarm of rabbits engulfs us. While I'm delighted at the sudden appearance of bunnies I don't question it. There's a rusty old jungle-gym and an unnamed person put's a large brown rabbit on one of the swings. Everyone present tells this person how bad of an idea that is but they continue. Not unexpectedly, the rabbit breaks an arm. I rush over to take it and call a vet.

I'm in what I presume to be my room, with the rabbit at my side. I'm on the phone with a medical professional when who-else but Jeff the stuffed sheep appears.

As many of my readers know, I have a very extensive collection of stuffed animals, almost bordering on "man-child" quantities. Jeff is a tiny sheep with a little rattle inside and a perpetual smile. This makes sense, Jeff is a baby toy, as in, from the Baby Gap at the mall. Again, the term "man-child" seems an apt description.

Anyway, Jeff slithers across my bed to hand me a large stack of papers. They're all covered in esoteric symbols and writings, one of them may have even said I was dreaming. Either way, I wasn't paying attention to those ones because most of the papers were coupons and I was feverishly searching through those.

I'd just like to point out that I was questioning the reality of my situation this whole time, mainly because of the sudden changes of location and the appearance of dozens of rabbits. I actually thought several times, "This is a dream, this rabbit isn't actually in danger.". But at no point did I question Jeff suddenly coming to life and handing me coupons.

The house disappears again and I'm feeling very depressed. The rabbit might die and I'm somewhere else entirely. This time, I'm in a park. Freshly cut lawns and huge oak trees are everywhere, people are having picnics, there are several bands playing. Imagine Balboa Park in severe disrepair, covered in tropical plants and apparently built on top of an ancient tennis court and you have an idea of the place. There were old, crumbling tennis courts everywhere.

This is distressing, I don't even play tennis. But I'm all but certain that I'll be integrating this place to the new map if I can.

Either way, I'm having so much fun just strutting around that I forget about the rabbit (or that I'm not wearing shoes) and I can't help but smile. I spend several hours just exploring these Myst-like ruins, listening to the gentle sound of the bands playing in the background. There's a free movie theater somewhere and food courts everywhere. I go to one and a very large burrito materializes before me, it overflows with beans.

Some of my school-friends are there and I tell them about my plight.

"How am I supposed to go to Sea World if I'm trapped in this dream?" I ask them. "I don't even remember how I got here so I must be dreaming."

"HEY! SORRY I CAN'T MAKE IT TO SEA WORLD!" I yell at the sky, hoping that my cries will somehow pierce the veil of sleep. "I'M STUCK IN A DREAM!"

The sky darkens and it starts to rain, it's hot and tropical. A thick fog develops and the air get's steamy and humid. I'm in a city, it's almost nighttime and the sky is a deep purple dotted with stars. I have my fancy new MP3 player with me and I decide to start making a log of my travels.

"Captain's Log, stardate 42.56..." I start, but I'm almost run over by a car.

The person driving is a woman I recognize from another dream, she has a stern look on her face.

"It's time you wake up now." She said, tired of this adventure. "You're mother needs you."

Suddenly, I "wake up". I'm back at the house. I ask everyone if the rabbit is okay, they nonchalantly tell me it died as I sink back into another depression.

And then I wake up again and immediately started writing this here and now you're reading it.

Keep in mind, all this happened from 7:50 something to 10:00. This was a sprawling, labyrinthine quest that took whole days. It very well could have been a dream within a dream too. Who knows how many of these I have and I just don't remember them, all the more reason to start working on that dream-recorder I keep telling people I'm going to invent.

Also, if you want to psychoanalyze these events, feel free to do so in the comments section.