Dreams from my Father(’s Demented Daughter), vol. 1
If dreams are a pathway into our truest self, my truest self is a 9-year-old boy idiot savant. Or maybe just an idiot.
At 4:30am last night, I woke up sore from laughing hysterically in my sleep. This level of belly-laughs rivaled the recent time my friend explained to me the plot of Face/Off, as well as the time last week when my 4-year-old niece threatened to steal my car with an Omar-from-The-Wire-esque “if you see me comin’, GO BACK IN YOUR HOUSE!”
I knew I had to write down the dream’s details, for it would certainly be made into a comedic masterpiece one day, sharing the ranks with classics like The Jerk or Airplane! or Face/Off.
This morning, I checked the notes app in my phone and read what I wrote.
What… the…
Against my better judgment, I’m sharing this unedited nugget of subconscious lunacy, or what I apparently find funniest deep down inside, when no one else is looking. Like any good work of art, it gets better after the 4th or 5th time you’ve read it/scotch. (Pretty sure this adage is written on the floor plan of the Louvre.)
For the record, I still have no idea who Young Jeezy is.
***UNEDITED DREAM BELOW****
Met two super funny girls in an uber pool who say they live next door to Young Jeezy (??) who apparently gives speeches to his entourage/“hoes” regularly that they overhear through the walls, and ends them all with “stay cool!” which they find hilarious. I find this hilarious too, so naturally we become fast friends.
The girls and I exchange numbers, and like a great ending to a first date, I get a voicemail from one of them within minutes of saying bye — it’s a recording of Jeezy giving one of his classic speeches (it does not disappoint). I’m doubled over in laughter as I get out of the lyft, at my friend Katie and Rick’s house.
I’ve got a serious case of the giggles when I arrive and start telling the story to Katie. Every time I try to tell her a critical part of the story, Rick starts farting audibly. Naturally, we find this hilarious. I try to play her the voicemail of Jeezy, but Rick lets out an epic ass symphony, on cue. We’re crying we’re laughing so hard. The juxtaposition of Jeezy giving a speech about “staying cool” and a young dad making the ultimate fart joke is too much for us to handle. We’re dying. It gives us the brilliant idea of some sort of comedy sketch where someone keeps farting over the most unrelated video footage and it’s just gold. We decide to pilot it right there, and I ask her what videos she has (preferably full of really dry content) that would be particularly good backgrounds?
“How about footage from a John’s Hopkins surgery room?” (Her husband is a medical professional so this makes sense) She grabs the VHS (really? A VHS??) and pops it in, and as the monotone doctor orating his surgical actions begins while 5 assistants intently watch like a still-life, and occasionally pass him a scalpel, Rick rips a glorious one. We lose our shit laughing.
Reading my mind, Katie switches out the tape and miraculously one-ups her previous choice, throwing in another VHS — this time it’s Bernie Sanders filibustering in the 80s. The image of him in horribly outdated glasses, reading from what looks and sounds like the manual of a washing machine from Montgomery Ward, is already enough to send us into a serious fit of tearful laughs (let alone, the fact that she has this on tape). And then, it begins — the fart — a glorious soaring number that pierces Bernie’s speech, reminding us of why we were there in the first place. We lose it. We’re certain this is going to get us on SNL. I haven’t laughed this hard in years.
*For other stories about nothing, and fart jokes aplenty, follow me!*
