Saturday, January 27, 2018

Weirdest of Horrible Dreams

Last night I dreamt something I think you’d agree is truly weird.

… and horrible …

It started out innocently enough.

Let this song from your childhood run through your mind:

Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale

A tale of a fateful trip …

That’s right: Gilligan’s Island.

I was on the island with Gilligan, Skipper, the Professor, Mary Anne, Ginger, and Mr. and Mrs. Howell.

But there was something else on the island …


Drum roll


A Xenomorph.

Yep. A Xenomorph, or, as is known to the non-nerd populace, an alien. From Alien. Or Aliens. Or Alien3, Alien Resurrection, Alien vs. Predator, Alien vs. Predator: Requiem, and/or Alien Covenant.

There’s an alien on Gilligan’s island, and it’s making its way one-by-one through those seven stranded castaways – eight, counting me.

Blood. Guts. Screams. Jump scares. Ineffective coconut guns. Bamboo barriers basically bad at blasting these baneful beasts at bay. A chestburster claims curious young Willy Gilligan. Skipper skewered by those second set of slimy jaws. Professor drowning in hubris to “communicate with these wondrous creatures” drowns in blood. The Howells attempting to escape in a raft – only to discover said raft harboring a maternity ward for those alien eggs o’trembling ….

So, that was my nightmare last night.

Good Lord, can’t my brain just disconnect for a couple of hours a year???

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