So I'm in this nice house that feels strangely midwestern. Donna Reed is my mother, and i have a strange feeling I'm waiting for our shows intro to finish rolling. There's a few missing elements in my minds eye as to how we got to where we were next, but essentially after receiving some abstract warnings, Donna Reed and I feel a pressing danger. I check out the window, and Surrounding us in a stonehedge-esque formation are thousands of normal looking nobodies with zombie-like movements and bluish glowing eyes. They are moving closer to our strangely shaped many roomed house. Donna isn't concerned, and I realize it is my duty to make sure we are not soulless corpses wandering between plains fur eternity. I search our premises. Every room has a vulnerable window, door, ceiling, or floor board and the zombie folks are nearing. Panicking, I tear Donna Reed from the old style radio announcing famine, plague and the end of the world (who announces that shit?) and drag her into the bathroom, the safest place I could find. The bathroom only allows for standing distance and has a large frosted sliding window at eye level. Panicking, we hide there for a moment, until we can see the silhouettes and nocturnal glow of our approaching doom. Most of these dreams of mine are fairly violent, involving detailed imaginings of what it would feel like to have one's kidney ripped out of one's chest by highly unsanitary zombie fingers. This one was a little nicer.... Donna and I are heaving our last free breaths when crash the window bursts through and the door frame gives way and thousands of hands are reaching in to get us. We scream and scream cacophonous and soul breaking, and one of the hands touches donna and I see her eyes fade, and then my wrist was grabbed and I'm fading... Semi-cognizant of my surreal soon to be zombie self, I notice the zombies are leading us to a space ship, there are others being led places, but Donna and I get some sort of preferential treatment. The scene is directly from Twilight Zone's "To Serve Man" and some how my dream self knows this. I writhe and panic in what must have seemed a terribly ethered-up Hunter S. Thompson way and Zombie guard like people come to quiet my disturbance. I know other captives are having it much worse, and I check on donna, who seems to be some sort of statue in another time, but still humanish. The guards are closer to me, ready to quiet things down when I go, "Shit, I can't dream this anymore!" and wake up sweating with images of black and white screen credits rolling through my mind. My dreams are too weird I think to myself, and grudgingly fall back asleep. I fall back asleep, and feel myself drifting through that heavy bl;ackness that leads to my dream world. When I come to in the netherland, I'm at a dinner table on a fisherman's grotto- esque restaurant dock in what I know to be pre- katrina new orleans, though I've never been. Donna is still my mom, and some strange Red Meat looking man with a pipe and hair that doesn't move is supposedly my father. I have an annoying little brother or sister which disappears quickly with no resolution or pertinence to my dream story. We are eating a dinner at a wooden table that smells like vinegar, surrounded by sports paraphanelia (can't spell), useless trophies, and autographed headshots of people u can guess never really ate there. Our waiter is an indescribable foreigner, I'm thinking french? and comes to take our order. I don't think I ordered anything, and wandered off to explore. I make my way round wooden bends, and wharf corners to a bar where yuppies happily sit drinking cocktails, oblivious to the peril of being characters in my dreams. I wander past them, feeling stangely sorry for them, though I don't think I'm aware I'm dreaming yet. I follow some plaques and goofy pictures of dead minor leaguers to a door in the back of the restaurant. I open it onto a deck which was probably employees only. I wander to the edge of it, glad to be away from Donna and Yuppies and the strange french-like waiter. At the edge of the peir I look out at posts sticking out of the ocean water, evidence of a previously unsuccessful wharf diner? On one of the posts sits a figure, which I recognize as THE ENIGMA, the blue puzzle-tatooed human geek circus performer that eats anything he can fit in his mouth. He is ripping apart something while he perches on his post in the middle of the ocean. I've always had a strange attraction to the Enigma, very strange... and I decide to swim out to meet him. U can tell I'm dreaming here cause there's no way in hell u would get me into deep dark waters while I was conscious. So I swim out to meet him and while I'm headed there, I sense things in the water with me. Something frightening and ancient. Treading water in a manner that attracts sharks, I watch as the enigma jumps in to eat whatever it was that just made me dream pissing my pants. Horrified, I watch a struggle in the water for a moment, as tattooed blue legs and something that could only be described as the prickles on the back of ur neck toss and fight and grope and howl in the water. Blood and black are spilling into the water, and the commotion has caused donna reed and the frenchly waiter and the yuppies to come out and check. I'm scrambling back to the dock when a final crunch makes me reel around to see the spinal cord, upper torso, slightly exposed rib cage, and just after, a sole leg come floating towards me. Each of these dismembered members were tattooed with blue puzzle peices. The heart is beating in the torso. 1-2-3- and stop. I grab on to the torso and use it to float to the deck in a panic, but whatever had caused the damage was not yet interested in me and I make it via human wreckage to the restaurant. I get up on the dock again and Donna Reed is asking me what happened. SHe looks like an angel, like that part in "it's a wonderful Life" where the camera gets all vaselined and there's a close up of her face, and Stewart comes in all bedraggled after saving the Building & Loan and Donna looks at her new husband and says, "Welcome Home Mr. Bailey." and it's the most beautiful tear- wrenching face and gesture that could ever be imagined in a movie... That donna reed was looking at me as I'm covered in blood and bile and panting on a quakey dock for my soul, that Donna is asking me "R u okay?" I try to tell her, but noone believes me that the enigma is dead, even with the evidence of his very corpse. They try to convince me there is nothing wrong, the french waiter taking leadership, and that we should all go back to our rackety unprotected cabins and rest for tomorrow's entertainment. (This is longer in writing than the dream seemed, but I think it's fairly accurate...) Anyhow, I'm starting in reality to wake up now, and the rest came in fitful peices, myself wandering the docks under the moonlight, chefs capturing me, some strange sea monkish like cult discovered below the docks that had to do with the blue eyed zombies from the first dream... This was all alot like that movie that left me puking and horrified fur about a month a few years back... It's not called Leviathan but it's something like it. I think it's Lovecraft but I'm not sure. Since I recognize the movie bits in my half twilight dream sleep, and know I'm coming out of the dream I switch it around, in that semi lucid state and away from the inevitable next scene of a fat man being skinned alive and back into a fading twilight zone-esque eerie but non-violent ending. There was something about having my own FBI team, and us discovering and slaughtering the wrong-do- ers. A much better note to awake to on this grand thanksgiving day. Shove that in ur pipe and smoke it, Freud.