Old Dream 4 - Giant Pulsating Testicle of Doom

I dreamt that I was driving to Tulsa for a wee visit and having a damn hard time of it. I could barely stay awake, nothing looked the way it used too (much more of a sprawling metropolis now) and worst of all, I kept finding myself turned around backwards going in reverse down the highway. Fortunately, I seemed to be very good at flipping around the right way in the middle of a busy highway.

I stopped a few times at various places for food, naps, directions, whatever. At a barbershop I found myself reading the Tulsa newspaper between naps. On the front page was a feature story of the local band "Dooooooom," which was apparently a black metal band comprised of young men with very odd looking facial hair. They were all wearing beards that appeared to be a hybridization of the Fu Manchu and the classic prospector beard. They were all rather nerdy, gawky and young, which made the beards that much more bizarre.

I looked up from the paper to realize the "Ghoulies 4" was on the TV in the barbershop. I was surprised by this as I was not aware that the series had gone beyond a trilogy. I reasoned that it must be a very recent installment.

For those of you who didn't watch Monstervision on TNT when you were kids, "Ghoulies" is a B Horror series from the 80's which features cheap non Judeo-Christian hand puppet demons that gad about and make nuisances of themselves. It was like a highly dignified version of "Hobgoblins," or a much goofier "Gremlins."

This non-existant installment of Ghoulies that my subconscious brain created featured the also non-existant band "Doooooooom" being doooooomed by Ghoulies cultists. The lead singer was chased into Matt Dolph's Tulsa basement and eviscerated by the High Priest at an altar to the Ghoulie Megatherion. He cried out to his bandmates for help, but they were either too scared to help or were conspiring with the cult. I suspect that they were going to audition a new singer anyway.

I began to observe from inside the movie itself rather than from a chair in a barbershop. I was now a character in this awful B Movie, which took it from amusingly bad to terrifying. I listened as the priest explained that the Ghoulie Avatar was a giant testicle (a symbol for man's agressiveness and willingness to dominate or some kinda bullshit, I thought to myself) and with that human sacrifice was free to come to our plane of existance and doooooooom mankind. I had no time to find this amusing or to question what is threatening about a giant testicle. I saw the edge of a huge purple peeled grape coming around a corner and I took off as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

I ran out onto 21st street (or 20th, wherever Matt's old house was) and got in the car. I started it up and a horrible chant came over the radio. It is best compared to the music from "The Omen." I switched stations, but it was on every station. Not a good thing, I judged. I made the rational conclusion from this that Mankind was on the eve of a grand horror movie apocalypse in the Romero tradition. I set out to round up as many of my friends as possible and get them to the least populous area I could find. This, I have learned, is the winning game plan in these situations. Be it zombies or bloodsucking monsterships from Mars, you head to Canada and they're less likely to come looking for you there. You certainly don't try to get to fucking Boston. Fucking Tom Cruise, you dipshit. Maybe if you watched more zombie movies instead of auditing yourself clear of Thetans all the time you might have a proper apocalyptic survival plan.

The unwise part, however, was that I was willing to drive back to Texas to get you suckas. I'm sorry but in the event of a horror apocalypse, if you're not with me when all the clear channel stations start broadcasting "Ia, Ia, C'thulu F'thagn" marathons, I'm not coming to look for you because you might try to take a bath in my entrails when I find you.

Of course, if I'm more lucid in the event this dream comes to pass, I will know to just to give the testicular dark lord a good square kick, deep fry him, and feed him to those goddamn Okies. Mmm mmmm, extraplanar lamb fries! Come'n'git it while it's hot 'n ectoplasmic, Jeptha!