Had a Dream about Micon

Lay off the acid, Brah.

Micon! Beware the eyes of March!!!!!!!!

You try to quote Shakespeare to look smart, but they you fuck it up and look even dumber.

The only actual NWP members in the dream were Brandon, Miri, and Micon. There were other people supposedly from NWP in the dream, but they were just stock characters and not anyone from this site. The main two plotlines of the dream were:

- We had to do NWP Radio. Instead of it being an informal weekly show that we put together at the last minute, it was a huge event. We were putting all kinds of preparation into it, and were extremely afraid that it would suck and make us look bad. A lot of the preparation wasn't going well, and the show looked like it would be a huge mess. When we actually did the show, we were in some real radio studio (NOT Micon's apartment), and Micon quickly ditched out on the show and left me to do everythig. Shortly after that, we completely forgot about the radio and moved onto the second plotline...

- NWP was going to perform a play. Yes, a play. We had a real theater with a lot of seats, a big stage, props, and everything. Of course, being an NWP production, it was highly disorganized and nobody was prepared for it. I spent most of the dream worrying about what a disaster the play would be, and how nobody seemed interested in practicing for it, or even learning their lines. There was no reason we were putting on this play, nor was it clear who would even want to watch it. Also, the script for the play was that of a famous Broadway play that didn't actually exist in real life. The date of the play quickly approached (this was a dream supposedly taking place over multiple days), and nobody was ready for it. Miri was rightfully skeptical that it would be awful and wanted me to cancel it. Micon seemed incredibly calm about the situation, figuring everyting would somehow fall into place, even though nobody knew their lines or any of the play's songs. Brandon was the producer and prop manager, and I was both the director and the main actor. Brandon was worried about certain things in the play, but had his priorities all screwed up. For example, he worried that we didn't have enough chairs ON STAGE as overflow in case the theater fills, yet didn't seem to care that nobody was ready to put on the play itself. When the play finally opened, it was terrible, as expected. I had some idea of my lines, but everyone else had no clue and had to read from cue cards being held in front of them from below the stage. When it came to the songs, everyone seemed to be either singing something different or ad-libbing lyrics. People were also ad-libbing their lines big time, myself included. No props were ready, and the whole thing was a complete mess. Surprisingly, we had a rather sizable audience and everyone loved it. Right before it ended, I woke up.

Yesterday, I went to a restaurant with a bunch of friends. The service kind of sucked, but I kept quiet and didn't complain. In fact, it progressively got worse and worse, but since the meal was almost over, I just wanted to pay and get out.

I paid the bill in cash, and I was owed $12 change back.

I was shocked to see that I got back only two bills -- a $1 bill, and an $11 bill.

Not only that, but the $11 bill was a very weak replica of American currency, being slightly larger and the dye too light.

Outraged at this $11 bill, I stood up and demanded to see the waitress. I asked her what the meaning of this fake $11 bill was. She acted as if she had done nothing wrong.

"It's $11 of our fun bucks," she said. "It's as good as real money next time you come in here."

"I wanted change, not your stupid fun bucks," I barked. "And I don't even live in this area, so it's not even like I'll be back here. First the service was terrible, which I was about to let slide, and now you have the nerve to intentionally cheat me on $11 change?! Let me speak to the manager!"

She got the manager. A big fight ensued. We were all told to leave. The manager took $11 out of the cash register and gave it to me on the way out. By the time I got the change, my friends had already gone outside and were waiting in the SUV we came in. I hurried over to the SUV, but notice my mouth felt like it was full of phelgm. I tried spitting the phlegm on the ground, but it didn't seem to help. I saw a sprinkler near the SUV, and decided maybe I needed a little water to dislodge the phelgm, so I bent over to let the sprinkler squirt in my mouth. As I spit the phlegm and water on the ground, I slipped, and I fell into both the water runoff and the phlegm I just spit. Now I was really embarrassed to get in the car with my friends like this. And I still felt like I had to spit more phlegm!

Before I could contemplate this frustrating situation, I found myself in my bed at home. I had slept 17 hours straight, after accruing a huge sleep deficit over the past few days. I also had a mouth full of phlegm.

I was in some sort of large helicopter on a sightseeing tour of the Santa Barbara area. There were 14 other people in the copter with me. Apparently this part of the tour involved a low-level sky dive from the copter. Having never done it before, I was nervous, but I was up first. I put on the pack, and was about ready to jump. I delayed the jump when I couldn't figure out what to do with my glasses. Do I wear them? Hold them? Leave them in the copter? Finally, the guy next to me, who I had befriended during the tour, grabbed them, put them in their case, and threw them out. "You'll land close to where they are," he said. "Now jump." I asked, "Are you sure the chute will really open by itself?" He replied, "Yes, it's totally safe. Now jump."

However, in all of my stalling, we were no longer over the safe stretch of ground where we were supposed to jump. I asked if I should jump anyway, and the tour operator/pilot told me it was no longer safe. He said he'd turn around the copter and get us back to the right spot. In his attempt to turn around, the helicopter turned downward at an almost 90 degree angle. My friend got nervous, but I told him that I was sure the pilot knew what he was doing. Finally, the copter straightened out, and we were passing over a beach.

"Jump already," the pilot said.

"What?! I'm not jumping here. I could land in the water," I replied.

"You don't understand," he answered. "The helicopter suffered substantial damage to the motor when I turned around. I'm not sure what happened, but we may not be able to make a safe landing. Everyone is going to have to jump as soon as possible. You're in front, so you go first. So jump!"

I jumped out. I drifted away from the beach and into some field. I landed right in front of some weird horse-drawn wagon, but I rolled right in front of the wheels and it barely missed me. I was safe.

I looked up in the sky to see the copter losing control. It headed straight for the nearby hillside, crashed, and exploded violently, clearly killing everyone else aboard.

Just when I was trying to get a grip on what had just happened (remember, I thought this was all real), the house on top of the hill exploded in similar fashion. Then the house next to it exploded. Then about 3 other houses blew up. Then a bunch of houses on the other side of me exploded. There were so many explosions that a wave of hot air and debris moved across the field and were headed for me. I dove onto the ground, it passed over me, and everything got quiet. I stood up and found a house that hadn't blown up. They had the TV on, showing things blowing up all over California -- including cars on the road. The cause was unknown, though a massive terrorist plot was suspected.

I suddenly had the worry that my girlfriend and/or my family might have been hurt or killed. I called them all on my cell phone and reached everyone but my parents. About a minute later, my parents showed up in person and I felt relieved. A guy ran up to us and told my parents, "You should feel really fortunate that he's okay. I heard he was the only one to walk away from a helicopter crash where 14 people died."

My father said to me, "Remember when you were complaining about your bad luck in poker recently? Looks like you finally got some luck when it really mattered."

The dream ended here.

You try to quote Shakespeare to look smart, but they you fuck it up and look even dumber.

go back to the clubhouse where your input is valued sir... you said in there that 99% of your posting would be there


its not that I completely hate you its that its obvious this forum is not an ideal place for you

Well I had a dream, a dream that ALL the NWP forum posters posted some nice posts, shared a joke, passed on some poker info, but yes!, it will stay a dream...

there are tons of poker sites out there that will embrace your sense of humour, this is not one of them