When I was young and delusional instead of old and delusional like I am now, I wanted to be a dream interpreter. Little did I know that dream interpretation was mainly the domain of 1-900 psychics on those infomercials in the 90’s. I was crushed when I found out that if I wanted to be a dream interpreter, I had to talk to people on the phone. The only people I know that talk on phones now are teenagers and telemarketers. And 1-900 numbers went the way of Blockbuster and Myspace. Either that or I could become a prophet that interprets dreams of kings and saves their civilizations. The problem there is that I don’t want to save civilizations. I prefer watching civilization’s burn…like Michael Scott burning Utica to the ground.

I suppose I could have gone into psychology, but that would mean getting paid to sit on a chair, listening to pyschos, talk about their problems all day. Not ideal for an introvert that would rather sit on a chair, with my headphones on, listening to podcasters talk about their problems all day.

The reason I wanted to go into dream interpretation is because I found dreams so fascinating. I don’t always remember my dreams, but when I was a teen, I used to write them down and then try to figure out what they meant. I still remember a few of the ones I had when I was that age, and I know for a fact that I have certain ones that happen over and over again. So, I’m sure they mean something.

Every once in a while, just to bend my mind a little, I would wonder if the time we are dreaming was the real world, and the time we think we are awake is the dream world. I often prefer that, because in my dreams I’ve won the lottery or I’ve been in the NBA. It’s those times that I want this nightmare life of mine as a middling blog writer and digital marketer to be the one I wake up from in a cold sweat and be thankful it was just a nightmare, and I should get back to playing hoops for a living.

Which is to say, that we all have dreams where we sleep, or dreams of things we want to do in our lives, and they almost never come true. As you saw up above two or three sentences, I wanted to be an NBA player or lottery winner. Or I wanted to be a dream interpreter. None of those things came true. Also, I wasn’t lost in my huge house with multiple hidden rooms and Mega Mall in my basement (those are sleeping dreams I’ve actually had).

Meaning…life is just a bunch of broken dreams, with small slices of good things happening in between. Some of you are fortunate enough to be able to sleep for 8 hours every night. I wish I could sleep 23 hours and live in the dream state where I get what I want all the time. But I’m lucky to get 4 1/2 or 5 hours a night. In some bitter twist of fate, I’ve been cursed to be not only a night owl, but also a morning person. It’s not like my waking life is so interesting or fascinating. But somehow, I have FOMO when I go to sleep. Like if I go to sleep I’m going to miss something really important, like the internet will go offline forever if I go to sleep but if I was awake I would’ve been able to save it. Stupid stuff like that.

Maybe it’s my introvert brain that just wants to keep thinking of cool ideas that I would do if I was brave enough or smart enough to figure out. Or maybe it’s that those hours that everyone else is sleeping is time that I don’t have to interact with anyone else. I can be my true bitter self, saving galaxies on the Xbox, or my phone, instead of talking on the phone to people about SEO and Google Ads that make me want to sleep in floating cloud and hurl through the sky in a flying train.

Dreams are complicated for me. I want more of them, but I never make time to sleep enough to get them. And I want my dreams to come true, but I don’t want to take the time to be 21 years old, be 7’1 and have a killer 3-point shot range. Maybe if I practiced harder I could be 21, and 7’1, but no amount of practice will ever give me 3-point range.

Like I said, life is just a bunch of bitter broken dreams, intermixed with a few moments of hope that you might actually turn into a good person. Which is why I always look on the bitter side, because that’s the real life. Or is it the dream? While you’re thinking of which one it is, watch some Bitter Friday Giftures to distract you…

Tell me about it, Phineas…

I thought I could be a dream interpreter…

I guess I could’ve tried to become a prophet…

But I’m more like Michael Scott and would rather….

I could have gone into psychiatry…

I prefer sitting at my desk at work with my headphones…

I used to write down my dreams…

I find it funny that people keep telling you to follow your dreams…

Sometimes I wonder if the dream world is the real one…

I’m a paradox, because I’m both…

But also…

I love being…

But don’t like…

ARRRRGGGGGHHHHH

Bitter Broken Dreams Ben