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MONDAY NIGHT’S DREAM
Monday night's fully narrative dream was about a designer of theme park rides whose big innovation is a roller coaster called the I Hate the Pope Ride. The gimmick is that after the attendant straps you in and just before he sends you up the track he says something like, "I Hate the Pope!" or "Midgets Suck!" so you have that ringing in your ears as you go up the first hill.
Some customers object. "Do you have any idea how offensive that is?" "I'm sorry, Ma'am. Jews have too much money. Please keep your hands inside the car."
Later, our inventor is framed for murder and sent to Death Row, where after a while he comes up with a great way to prove his innocence. The body must be exhumed! This is done, and a courtroom is set up in the prison exercise yard, with all the other death row prisoners in the gallery. (Yes, I know this makes no sense, but it sets up the punchline.) As a convict, he must walk through a metal detector every time he gets up to question a witness. The Judge is waiting to see how our brilliant inventor proves his innocence. He walks over to the body -- which, again, has been exumed, and is lying on the exhibits table, looking suitably grisly -- plucks off the head, and throws it through the metal detector, against a stone wall. The head smashes. Nothing else of import happens. "Ta-daaa!"
There is a moment of stunned silence from the spectators, who have absolutely no idea what our protagonist intended to prove by that.
The convicts start cheering. Why?
One spells it out. "Yaaaaaayyyy!!! We're on Death Row and this is our one big chance to say Yaaayyyyy!!!!"
I swear to God. That was Monday night's dream.
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