Imaginary Cops on Methamphetamines

So, my dreams are weird. I mean fucking bizarre. David Lynch would think I'm crazy if he knew what my dreams were like. I can analyze them to a point, figuring which parts coincide with the activities and experiences of the previous days, maybe something relating to abandonment issues, etc. The rest I just leave alone. It gets far too bat-shit crazy for even a clinically insane person to try and rationalize.

Last night's dream was oddly realistic, in the sense that the people and places were familiar. The plot, however, decidedly not so. The main part I remember was one of my former classmates, a police officer no less, coming to my apartment. There was a reason for this, I guess we had a project to discuss. Either way, he's flying high on crystal meth. In the dream I just assume this, I have no real evidence of him using drugs at all, it just makes the most sense to my dream self. So he's talking to me about something, and between sentences he violently flips over pieces of furniture in my apartment, including my bed. He's not aggressive towards me, it's like he's punctuating his points by flinging the objects aside. And the whole time I'm trying to assure my room mate that my classmate is just on meth, and he's not usually like this. As if that would quell his fears of this giant, drug induced He-Man destroying our living space. My concern isn't of the goings on, per se, but of trying to sustain my credibility as a room mate.

Flash forward in the dream because there is no chronological link between scenes, of course. I'm on a hike/jog in San Francisco with my editing teacher and some classmates. I try to bring up my concern for the meth using fellow classmate, and my teacher has some wisdom to drop on the issue, but it's all but forgotten when we arrive at the Moulin Rouge. Or it feels like that, there are can-can dancers and colorful drag queens everywhere but I'm assured by everyone that it's not the Castro. Then my old friend Eric shows up and acts like a dick to everyone for no fucking reason. End of dream, because I am never allowed closure even in my subconscious.

So I can see the deeper message of my self-conscious desire to keep my friends from hating each other, that one's obvious. The rest is beyond me, and frankly I've made it this far not looking for meaning in my dreams. It serves no real purpose, because it's only relevant to me in theory. If my dreams could make me a better person, I'd just sleep the rest of my life.