Raptors and Bomb-priests

My subconscious is oddly fucked up.
(note: I just typed Fuced and in my head I pronounced it Fewss-ed and it made me laugh. I feel like fuced should be a word of some kind. It sounds so wonderful. ANYWAY)
I'm not talking about like Jeffrey Dahmer fucked up. I don't kill and eat people (I broke that habit awhile back) or anything like that.
Its just that for whatever reason, whenever I dream, my brain decides to pull out all the stops and just let 'er rip, which often creates the most ridiculous dreams I've ever heard of.

One time, when I was in grade school, I dreamt that my friends Sarah, Kate and I got sent on a space mission, and we got into a giant spaceship which had a blue, fuzzy interior room which we shared with a big, purple, fuzzy dog. All of the blue, fuzzy furniture was nailed to the floor (so it wouldn't fly around when we took off or while we were in space) except for the one couch, which happened to fly into us and crush us as we were taking off. The couch somehow turned us into ants, a problem that was only remedied as we reentered earth's atmosphere. We went home, told our parents about our trip, and went to bed.

You may think this is the end of the dream, but you are wrong.

In my dream, we all woke up the next day and went on ANOTHER space mission, only this time we brought our parents, and everything on the inside of the ship was purple and fuzzy, with a blue fuzzy dog. The couch squished us all into ants again, but the dog fixed it so we turned back into people. Then the dog told us that we had been selected to start some sort of spaceship/space station, where we would travel around to different planets but still stay on our ship. We were given materials to expand the ship so we could all have our own rooms and a kitchen and everything, which we all built together.

At one point, we had to stop at a planet and drop the dog off. The aliens living on the planet insisted that we take some horses with us as we left, and we were all too flattered to notice the two fatal flaws in the gift.
One, we had no room for said horses to ride.
and Two, there was no gravity.
Problems, indeed.
So of course, because it was my dream and I wanted to be the hero, I offered to fix the problem by not only creating a gravity-device, but also I was going to attach some sort of place for us to ride our horses.
The gravity-device was no problem. Apparently I was a genius in my dream. Though not enough of a genius to solve the other problem so efficiently.
My brilliant dream-idea for where to ride the horses was to take an entire airplane runway and sew it to the side of the ship.

Yes, my friends, you read that correctly.
I dreamt that I sewed an asphalt runway to the outside of a metal spaceship using nothing but a plain old needle and thread.
Apparently I enjoy completely disregarding the rules of physics, as well as common sense.

Now, granted, we all have weird dreams. I'm sure you've all had a dream roughly that weird, maybe more, maybe less.
The weirdness of one dream isn't what makes my subconscious ridiculous.
What makes my subconscious ridiculous is the fact that I have dreams like that every. single. night. Usually, anyway. At least on the nights when I remember my dreams.
I'm not exaggerating. Every dream I have is completely and totally ridiculous.

Don't believe me?
Here's another example.

Last year I dreamt that my friend Marie and I were running away from these two priests who were chasing us because we had stolen some of their bombs that they had been hiding under the church. They chased us down this one street in my neighborhood, casting spells to try and stop us, except it wasn't working, because I think either Marie knew how to block them or we were just faster than them.

That's all I remember about that dream because I don't know where I have it written down. There are very few dreams I remember in full detail, I normally just remember scenes from the dreams, so while I dreamt about the bomb-priests a lot more and there was a more in-depth story to that dream, I simply can't remember it.
Take my word for it, it was ridiculous.

And finally...the grand finale...the single most epic dream I have ever had in my entire life...
I don't think you guys are prepared for this.
But I'm typing it anyway, just because I'm strangely proud of this dream. Its like a trophy. Like, if weird dreaming was an olympic sport, this would take the gold medal, and also probably a Nobel prize. The Nobel committee would be watching the dream olympics and be like HOLY CRAP, THAT GIRL NEEDS A PRIZE FOR BEING CRAZY IN AN AMUSING WAY!

Okay, so in my dream I was on a cruise ship with two of my friends, Hannah and Elise.
This is a rough version of what the ship was.
More like a chart than anything.

My friends and I were on the bottom level, with all the normal folk.
Level 2 was seriously just a GIANT ROOM with a GIANT POOL in the middle. This will become very important later.
And Level 3 was full of rich people, and there was only one door to get there from the lower decks, and you couldn't go into the rich people level unless you were one of them. It was very exclusive.

All of a sudden, these 3 giant Velociraptors come out of nowhere and just start killing and stabbing and maiming everyone, throwing people overboard, eating other people, and generally making a mess. Everyone ran into their rooms and barricaded the doors, so the raptors quickly grew bored and decided to see if anyone was on the second level, in the pool.

Elise, Hannah and I decide to follow them.

Before we go to the pool deck, we head up to the rich people party club deck and knock on the door. Kanye west enters, acting like he's all tough shit, and tells us to get the hell out because he's about to have a concert and we're not allowed in there, because the concert is for cool people only, and we're not cool.
"But Kanye, there are raptors on the ship!" I say, trying to reason with him.
"You're just trying to get in here to see my show! It's not working, get out!"
He then slams the door in our faces.

We then make our way down to the pool deck, where we see the raptors creeping around, looking for people to nom.
They were about to head up to the rich people deck when I stopped them, shouting some cliche line like "WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!"
Apparently whoever writes my dreams isn't very good at dialogue.

Thus ensues a fight to the death.

Before I move on, I should tell you that in real life, I am scrawny.
I am about 2 inches over 5 feet, and I am skinny as hell.
I have no muscles to speak of, except in my legs, and those muscles are really only good for doing ballet. Even though I dance, I am nowhere near coordinated enough to use the little muscle I have in a fight to the death.
Not to mention the fact that the raptors each had a good 600 pounds on me.
Is this a problem for my dream self?

Heck no!

I immediately destroy one of the raptors and toss its dead body into the pool.
Not only did I fight a raptor, I killed it with my bare hands and THEN lifted its massive body (also bare handed) and threw it in the pool.
Apparently my dream self likes to channel the Hulk.

The other two raptors are all "Woah, crazy lady, calm down, we don't want to hurt you guys. We're just really hungry."
It is then that I come up with a brilliant idea.
"Hey, why don't you guys go upstairs and wreck havok up there. Eat all the people you want. I tried to warn them and they wouldn't listen, so they deserve it. Just don't come down to the lower decks. Deal?"

The remaining raptors agree, and go upstairs, where they do indeed wreck havok and cause chaos and (hopefully) eat Kanye West.

And then I woke up.

So you see, sometimes I wish I had normal dreams.
But sleeping wouldn't be NEARLY as fun without raptors, bomb-priests, or the suspension of basic laws of physics.