Gremlin O’Brien

Last night I had an intensely vivid semi-lucid science-fiction/horror dream.

I often dream that I’m back in Grade Eight, worried about attending school everyday and graduating. This happens so often that as soon as I start thinking I’m in school and I don’t want to be – I say to myself, “Hey. I’m 31. Why am I still in Grade Eight?” So one day, in this dream, I walked to school and sat in the lobby eating macarons and when the bell rang for everyone to go to class, I didn’t budge. My teacher from around that time, Ms. A, told me I had to go to class. And I challenged her. I said, “I’m 31. Why am I in school?”

So she sat me down and explained it.

As she spoke, my surroundings changed. I was in a yoga class in a psychiatric institution. The teacher was asking us questions as we stretched, and I found myself raising my hand. Damn it, they tricked me- they got me into a classroom. According to Ms. A, all the students in the yoga class were my children. So were all the people I loved on television. The reason I kept being sent back to my past was because I had left behind my children, who needed me. Strange, since I was the same age as them. But apparently, they had come from all different times in the future and travelled back to see me.

At some point in my current life, they had harvested my eggs or my blood or something and used it to make a whole race of people. Why they would want to do that, I don’t really know.

This psychiatric facility, which was roughly the size of the West Edmonton Mall, was filled with my “children.” They were all ages and races. I started to explore and summon people to meet with. I met with Jon Stewart, who was very kind. Also, Jennifer Lawrence.

At one point, a fleet of helicopters flew by. I asked, “What are those?”

“Military,” said someone.

“Oh. American military?”

No, Canadian. The Canadian military is responsible for this science experiment.

Then I was brought to a conference room with one man inside. Conan O’Brien. I sat down at the other end of the table. I remember thinking, he might hate me. That’s when his arms fell off. They were replaced by two long, blue, slippery tentacles. He started to hiss and shriek at me. I quickly asked to be let out and ran as far as I could away from him.

This dream directly correlates to messages I got from the television when I was psychotic. It was 2011 or so. I was in a daze, watching The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and – out of context – Jon cried, “We’re doing this to save our mom!” And I thought, he’s talking about me. Jon Stewart’s my son. At least, that’s what I thought. Apparently, a part of my subconscious still believes that.

The dream devolved into a horrific nightmare from there. The mall/school/psychiatric institution was filled with vampires and they were obsessed with blood. They cut me open and sucked away my blood and when I begged them to stop they said they could safely take more, that they had seen the nurses take more.

And for some reason, we got around the mall via waterslides.

What a weird dream.