Maybe this isn’t normal, but almost every night I have dreams where I experience inexpressable rage.
In these dreams, I’m often trying to fight a chaotic, violent force (like Roy Scheider in Jaws) or wrestle with enormous powers beyond my control (like Roy Scheider’s behind-the-scenes battles with the producers of Seaquest: DSV). When I wake from them, I’m as sweaty and frustrated as a Vikings fan eating Thai food.
I’m not certain why I have these dreams. It could be that the stresses of my job and fatherhood are building up unsustainable levels of pressure on me that can only be released by dreaming about cracking a rabid racoon’s skull with a wooden baseball bat. Maybe it’s my subconscious telling me I need to blog more often to release these perverse impulses into the wild yonder of the internet so future employers may frown with disappointment. Maybe it just tells me that it’s a bad idea to read the novelization of the hit 1995 film Mortal Kombat right before going to bed.
Any way you look at it, though, my dreams are pretty messed up. Where most normal people dream about jumbo-sized canoes floating down peppermint rivers with childhood friends, I’m dreaming about overturning tables and throwing cats into ravines.
Well friends, looks like I’m out of time. Hopefully these dreams taper off and allow me to return to my life of serene reflection and Olive Garden gift cards. In the meantime, I’ll be off clenching my jaw and listening to Norwegian death metal at full blast.