I reentered the same dream

There are few worse experiences in life than waking up right in the middle of an awesome dream.

I know that sounds like an exaggeration, but think about it. Throughout our lives, people encourage us to “dream big,” or to “dream the impossible.” Well, we do that. In our dreams. I’m not going to date Kate Upton in real life. In my dreams, I might.

And the best part is that when we are dreaming it, it feels real to us. I know that sounds obvious, but it needs to be reinforced. While we are fast asleep in our beds, and deeply immersed in what I like to call “Dream World,” our dream selves have absolutely no concept of reality. It’s the world we are currently in, so why would we question it?

While dreaming, if we suddenly find ourselves dating a supermodel, we don’t take a step back and say, “Wait a minute — a supermodel would never date me. This can’t be real.” In the dream, it’s happening, so of course it’s real. We don’t know any different.

And that’s why when we wake up, and the real world dawns upon us, it’s extremely deflating. Tack on the realization that we probably have to leave bed and go to work in a very short while, and it’s basically just a perfect storm of horror. In a matter of moments, you just went from holding hands with Kate Upton to waking up in your parents’ house five minutes before your alarm goes off.

Tell me that’s not incredibly depressing. And on that note, am I only person who never gets past first base in my dreams? I really hope my ineptitude is not an individual problem. I face enough of that in reality as it is.

But anyway, this entire diatribe of how shitty it is to wake up from an awesome dream only adds to the awesomeness of the next part of this story.

A few days ago, I was having a dream that I was at a party that a friend of mine was throwing. And this wasn’t just some normal-Friday-night-nine-people-show-up-in-a-cramped-apartment-with-an-uneven-guy-to-girl ratio-type party.

This was an outdoor, middle of the summer, backyard party of the year-type shindig. Beautiful weather, flowing beer, and everyone was there. And I mean everyone. Like every single friend I’ve ever had in my life was at this party, chilling and having a good time, and they were all happy to see me.

Basically, it was the party from Can’t Hardly Wait, except better.

All I remember was sitting there, seeing everybody I know, and enjoying life. I had no care in the world but to live in the moment, at that party.

And then I woke up.

Now, in the seconds after waking up, I knew I was upset about something. I was nostalgic about a place I had just left, but couldn’t recall why. Then I remembered the party. And the realization that it was never real dawned upon me, and there was nothing but darkness. And I mean that in a metaphorical sense, and not because it was the middle of the night.

But as it was still dark out, I took some solace in knowing I had plenty of time left to sleep before work, and so I fell back into a slumber.

And guess what happened?

I was back at the party. Nothing was different. The friends were still there, the beer was back in my hand, and it was literally like I just took a five-minute leave to go the bathroom. But instead of going to the bathroom, I returned to consciousness and back. This was some Michael J. Fox Back to the Future type shit. But I didn’t question it. I was back where I belonged.

Honestly, whatever happened after that I really don’t remember. Maybe I woke up again. Maybe my dream evolved into something else. It doesn’t matter — just the fact that I did the impossible and reentered my awesome dream was enough to make me extremely happy.

I think the best part was that I consciously remembered waking up and being sad that the dream was over. I imagine it’s not that uncommon to wake up momentarily in a half dreaming-half awake state, only to return to the dream you were just having. But there’s no consciousness there. There’s no alert train of thought.

So for me to wake up, and actively acknowledge that the dream was just a dream, and still go back into it — I feel like there was some type of glitch in the Matrix or something.

Maybe I wasn’t asleep, and perhaps I slipped into an alternate dimension, where a separate version of myself was currently attending an all-night rager?

Whatever happened, it was sensational.

As depressingly awful as it is to wake up from an awesome dream, it’s even more magnificent to return to an awesome dream.

I can vouch for it.

Well, I’m never complaining about anything again.

Often times we witness people’s personal stories of adversity and overcoming obstacles, and hearing their tales of triumph usually put things in perspective in our own lives. All over the world, there are people with devastating disabilities who still manage to accomplish great things. And when we learn about them, it makes our trivial problems and annoyances seem foolish.

Well, at least for like five minutes, it does. Let’s face it. Most people see an inspirational video and think, “Wow, that really makes me look at life differently. I’m going to stop complaining about little things from now on.” But five minutes later, they forget. Five more minutes later, they’re back to complaining about a friend who talked behind their back that one time. Give it five more minutes and they’re crying in a corner scribbling “FML” on the wall.

It takes a lot more than one motivational story for us to stop thinking selfishly, and to alter our lifestyle, regardless of how inspirational it was.

In the end, we all go back to thinking about our own lives, problems and personal situations. And very quickly.

Well, let me give you a story about a disadvantaged individual that might put things into perspective for a little longer than five minutes.

His name is Wesley Warren Jr., he’s 49 years old, and he suffers from scrotal elephantiasis. It’s exactly as bad is it sounds. No, actually, it’s worse — much worse.

Elephantiasis involves the thickening of skin and tissue, causing certain body parts to swell to extravagant sizes. It’s an unfortunate disease to have anywhere, but Mr. Warren has it in a place that is worse than any other. His scrotum.

It’s still worse than you think. It’s not like his ballsack is just a little bigger — or that it’s even the size of a soccer ball or basketball. Instead, it’s the size of a small rhinoceros.

To be precise — it weights 132 pounds.

Think about that. That means his scrotum weights more than most females. It means it weighs more than most people can bench press. It weighs so much, and is so grotesque, that the guy actually needs to purchase a large-hooded sweatshirt to act as a sleeve to hide it. In other words, he actually requires a giant sack to cover his sack.

His condition is so unique that it caught the attention of a British film crew, who filmed and documented his struggles with the condition and made it into a movie, titled The Man with the 10-Stone Testicles.

Fortunately for Warren, a Californian surgeon performed a procedure on him, free of charge. So his testicles no longer resemble a beached manatee.

Looking to profit on the strangeness of this situation, TLC will also be airing a special about Warren’s struggles. Their name is a little more matter-of-fact — The Man with the 132 lb. Sctorum.

This is truly something that is really impossible to believe. You think you’ve heard everything, but then you go ahead and learn about this. What scares me the most is that this is something that actually developed overnight — literally. Wesley Warren had lived 44 years of his live bearing a normal sized scrotum, and said his troubles began in late 2008 after “accidentally striking” his testicles while he was sleeping. After experiencing intense pain, he woke up the next day with significant swelling. It only got worse.

Furthermore, doctors concluded that it is indeed possible that the condition was brought upon by trauma.

Essentially, what this means is it could happen to anyone. If that isn’t enough justification to start walking around everywhere with a jockstrap, I don’t know what is. And if I ever do take a significant strike to that region for whatever reason,, I’m going straight to the emergency room. I’m not taking any chances.

Again, nothing has given me more perspective in life than this story. Regardless of what happens to me in the future, I will think of Wesley Warren’s scrotum, and it will give me a renewed sense of vigor.

Because even with his humiliating and debilitating ailment, he still had the testicular fortitude to live his life to the fullest, and even had the cojones to show himself in public.

That really takes a lot of balls.


I guess August is the month where people forget how time works

For the first time in recorded history, today marked the beginning of a new month. Since the Big Bang and the inception of our universe, never before has the calendar turned over, giving us a full ledger of days for us to start afresh.

Oh wait, you’re saying what? This happens? A dozen times? Per year?

Woah. Sure didn’t feel that way today based on most people’s reactions on Facebook.

Twelve times per year we experience the end of one month and the start of another. Thanks to the invention of the calendar, we are actually foretold in advance exactly how this works. Some months are shorter than others. Some actually have their amount of days change every four years. Yes, I know it’s confusing.

Most people seem to be pretty knowledgeable on the subject. When April 30 becomes May 1, I hardly hear any criticisms or concerns. Same with May into June, June into July, etc.

But when August 1 comes around, something weird happens. It’s like some chemical gas unleashes in the air and people forget the concept of time. I say this because I can’t even count how often I saw people posting their confusion on Facebook that it is already August.

“It’s August already?” read one status.

“Where did the summer go?” said another.

Part of me wanted to chime in with an explanation about how we fulfilled all of the days in July, and thus, August is the month that follows. But I thought it was better left alone.

Obviously I’m not an idiot. I know that these hypothetical questions are more of a commentary on how the summer is more than halfway over, which is the real thing that people are flabbergasted about. And not the fact they have to write the number “8” instead of “7” when they fill out the date on a sheet of paper.

This should not come as a surprise, however. I think the problem is that people just greatly underestimate how time works. In the grand scheme of things, time moves very slow. People live to be 70,80, 90, sometimes 100 years. That is a long-ass time.

But in the context of one month, time moves fast. Days and weeks pass in the blink of an eye. When I was about 16 or 17, and it became August and September, I used to always think, “Man, this year is flying by!”

And then I realized, “Wait, maybe time isn’t flying by. Maybe this is just normal.” If you find yourself amazed by the rapid succession of time every year, then, maybe a conclusion can be drawn — time moves quickly.

I typically try to avoid commenting on some of the stupidity I see on Facebook, but when I notice the same thing happen four or five times, I can’t help but lend my two cents. And something tells me that others may have had a similar experience, so perhaps a few of you can relate to my frustration.

Or maybe some of you had absolutely zero idea that today was August until you read this post. And in that case, I applaud you for being so blissfully ignorant. I wish I shared your apathy.

Okay, so to touch on a bit of current events — because I am also here to educate and inform — I must say, is there anyone in the world whose life is going to be analyzed under a bigger microscope than George Zimmerman? I swear this guy can be put in the Witness Protection Program and he’d still make headlines every single day.

I mentioned last week how he was publicized for allegedly saving a family from an overturned truck, but that was on the same day as the birth of the Royal Baby (later named George), so no one cared. This time, he’s in the news for a much different reason.

On Sunday, the 29-year-old was pulled over for speeding in Texas. Now that’s not really a big deal. It happens. I got a speeding ticket a few months ago, and I’m a saint.

But the hubbub here is that Zimmerman was carrying a gun with him at the time. *Cue dramatic music*

That isn’t really a big deal, either. In the south, a gun in a car is as common as an air freshener, but, something tells me that all of the Trayvon Martin enthusiasts will not be too pleased to hear that Zimmerman is free-riding throughout the south with a loaded gun.

Oh well, it’s a new month. Not just for George, but for everyone else, and therefore, a time for us all to cleanse and start anew. A rebirth, so to speak.

Or, we could just keep doing what we’ve been doing all summer, and then on September 1, voice our amazement at how fast time flew.

Can’t wait.