You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘dream’ tag.

Back when I was living in Columbus, Ohio my friends and I started a quote wall. Whenever a bit of brilliance (or otherwise) poured out of someone’s mouth, somebody would yell “Quote!” thus nominating it for Quote Board status. The quote then had to be seconded by someone (it almost always was), and then it would be written down to be forever immortalized on the Quote Board.

This is the modern day equivalent of that classic piece of my past.


“Do you know how I knew that dream wasn’t real? Kirk Cameron would never cheat on his wife.”

– Justin, after telling KB he had a dream where she cheated on him with the Growing Pains actor, 9/4/13

KB nominated it,


…which, considering she’s still alive, means I’m either clairvoyant or insane.

Hoping for the former… sorry, Rue,



If you’re anything like me (especially if you’re from Wisconsin), you’re gonna love this!

Recipes for 2010,


…had a dream about me last night. This morning, he emailed me the details:

You and I were in a car, just driving. You got a call and were told to pick up your little niece or cousin or whoever she was. We drive down to this pool, which is where she was at. We walk around this water park or whatever it was and there are three pools: one for adults, a baby pool, and one for the rest of the kids.

This kids pool was all decked out. It had some sort of jungle gym waterslide thing over top of it so you could run around the jungle gym, shooting squirt guns and whatnot, and then jump into the pool and swim.

So we’re walking around and we find your niece or cousin, whoever, and you decide, “Fuck it.” and jump into the pool, clothes and all. She gets all excited and follows suit. You two swim off and I think, “Well, I’m not going to let them have all the fun,” so I take off my shoes and shove my wallet, keys, phone, etc. into the toes of the shoes.

Just as I set the shoes down and get ready to jump in the pool, I see your niece walk angrily past me, her over-sized white t-shirt hanging heavily with water, dripping a long trail behind her.

She tells me, “We’re leaving.”

Confused, I look up and see a security guard escorting you towards the exit. As you are pushed past me, you say, “Don’t even ask.”

I don’t, and follow you to the car.

I’m glad I can invade you even your dreams, Frank.



Old Poop!