But it wasn’t a cool dream, where I was flying, or beating up on people, or kickin’ it with Lois or Lana, or even bringing back souvenirs for my pal Jimmy Olsen.
No, in my dream it was: “Oh HELL no I don’t need this! I’ve got enough to deal with as it is, and now I gotta be Superman? People are going to be asking me to do stuff for them, and I’m going to have to be flying all over the place getting in fights and stopping evil.”
So I didn’t even get to the flying part, or even put on the suit for that matter; I was too busy pitching a fit. In retrospect it’s a good thing I woke up when I did, because I hadn’t remembered about Kryptonite yet. That and Mr. Mxyzptlk would’ve probably gotten me on a tirade that would’ve lasted into the afternoon.
The whole incident reminded me that I’ve never had a dream where I was flying. If you believe what you read, it’s pretty common, but the closest I’ve ever come that I can remember was dreaming I was in the observation deck of the World Trade Center and the glass wasn’t there, so I fell out but didn’t hit the ground. I just kind of hung there, over that big globe statue that used to be there, then got bored and the dream switched to something else.
If I were into dream analysis, I’m sure this would all lead me to believe that I’ve got a lack of imagination and I’m repressed and inclined to be pessimistic and negative. But then, if I were into dream analysis, I’d have to start putting more weight in those dreams I keep having about me, Rachael Ray, Larry the Cable Guy, Velma, and Sayid from “Lost” all snowboarding down a mountain but it turns out the snow is actually sausage gravy and we all crash into a giant biscuit and then fall as one big pile onto the conveyor belt of a lumber-mill and as we inch closer to the giant saw blade I can feel one of them start grabbing me, you know, down there and I’m afraid to look down and see which one it is and I wake up screaming.