Stranger than Real Life

Last night I got rejected in my own dream.

It was one of those dreams that played through several times during the night, with only slight variations on the same theme. The pinnacle of weirdness was reached during the last showing, which starred the Justice League.

In my dream, I was a member of the Justice Leage; the unity of superheroes dedicated to saving the world. I did not know what my power was, but I'm pretty certain I was still cooler than Aquaman.

We were all gathered at one of our meetings (you know, to discuss things like nuclear weapons and the bake sale). Suddenly, not one, but two naked women burst into the Hall of Justice, or wherever the hell superheroes meet. The two women told us that they had been sent as a special "strip-o-gram." Their message, and the fact that there was already nothing left to strip off, was unimportant. What was important was that they were going to give individual heroes a "private" show. Kinky, right? Or demented, depends on what you like.

Anyway. First they took Batman to the next room. He came back a few minutes later with a huge fucking grin on his face. Next, Robin got to go. Is Robin even in the Justice League? Well, anyway, he got the same treatment, huge grin and everything. Then Superman got to go. I'm sure the man of steel had a ball in there. Then Jimmy Olsen got to go. JIMMY OLSEN? What the fuck!? I know Jimmy Olsen is not in the Justice League. Why does a second... no... third string character get to go?

Well, it gets worse. When Jimmy came back, BATMAN WENT AGAIN! What the fuck? Why does Batman get to go twice!?

I actually said that out loud in my dream. In response, Wonder Woman leaned over to me and said. "He has great sex appeal. All women love that. I do too. Oh wow, I could jump him right now." I was heartbroken. I've had a crush on Wonder Woman, and all she can think about is shagging the flying rat.

Well, Batman came back, and then AQUAMAN got to go! That's worse than Jimmy Olsen.

That was the final straw, I stood up and said, "Can I go next." I know I meant to say something more dramatic than that, like "This is an outrage. Let's behave like adults." But, truth be told, I really wanted the private show.

The girls looked at me, and one of them said, "Sorry, time's up, this is our last show."

To the credit of my subconscious, I took this outrage calmly and with dignity, despite my dissapointment. I'm glad to know that the first impulse of my id wasn't to curl up and cry like a little girl.

Anyway, that's where the dream ends. Jon Man gets the blow-off and then it's back to work as usual.

No more nachos and self-loathing before bedtime.