I Dream of OLIVER STONE

I rarely remember my dreams but I had a strange one last night. I was at a fancy apartment in a high rise building. The apartment belonged to a friend of mine who in real life  is a broke ass and who in my dream was wearing an expensive suit and was smoking a dick-shaped cigar . There was a fancy party going on and there was barely anybody there. Lots of waiters though.

I had it going. I was drinking whiskey and feeling groovy when I saw Oliver Stone walk in. He had a stunning lady hanging on his arm. I approached him and told him that I loved his movies.

‘Which one?’ , he quickly replied.

‘Platoon’, I said. ‘Fantastic stuff’.

He didn’t look back at me and scanned the party while his head started bouncing to the rhythm of Kylie Minogue’s “Can’t Get Your Out of My Head” which was blaring out of the speakers.

‘What else?’, he then asked.

‘Any Given Sunday’, I replied. ‘Fantastic stuff’. 

Actually, I hate that movie not because it’s bad but because I hate football. It’s a boring sport for fat people. Not that there is anything wrong with fat people. I have actually put on a couple of pounds over the last few years. Anyway, I could not remember any other Oliver Stone movies so I just said Any Given Sunday.

Then, I took a chug of my drink, which for some reason was served in a metallic cup. As I was drinking I noticed something moving in my glass and tickling my face.  A few repulsive ideas crossed my mind and I instinctively threw my glass to the floor and accidentally spat the alcohol all over Stone’s chest. He didn't seem to mind. Then, out of my glass came a strange creature. I would call it a shrider, because it looked like a cross between a shrimp and a spider.  It then started walking in circles and everyone in the party was repulsed. Including Mr. Stone who then looked at me and said,

‘Dude, you are gross’.