I hate pee dreams. Those are the dreams where you have to pee really bad, and in the dream you just end up wandering around trying to find someplace to pee. I am a night pee-er. No, I don’t wet the bed, but I do get up 2-3 times a night to go pee. It’s not a medical problem or anything, some people just pee a lot at night. I am one of them. I am often amazed at people who can flop on to a bed and not move for a solid eight hours without having to go to pee. Freaks.
Anyways, around four this morning I was having a pee dream. In it I was in some sort of mountain lodge. It was actually pretty nice, and there were a number of other people there as well. A party like atmosphere was in the air, at least until the aliens arrived outside. They showed up in a giant ship that looked a bit like a planet, and most of the people at the party were out on the deck in the cool mountain air ooh-ing and aah-ing at this giant spacecraft floating in the sky. That was all find and dandy, however the toilet was located out on the deck. It was some sort of clever rocky-mountain toilet that looked like it was made out of natural brown rocks. I wanted to pee in it, but with all the people on the deck looking at the aliens I could not.
So I ended up wandering around the lodge, which was actually quite large, poking into rooms and trying to find another place to pee. Finally in the basement I came across a dark disused toilet and let out a sigh of relief. I stood over it and peeing, but the pressure in my bladder never abated. Finally, I woke up, and realized I had to pee. So I walked across the house and stood over the toilet, waiting to pee. Then I woke up a SEECOND time, and realized I had never actually gotten up the first time, it was just a dream. Like the kind in movies where someone wakes up from a nightmare only to roll over and find the ghoul from their nightmare in bed with them. However this time I was actually awake and my bladder was urgently bloated and I had a massive morning-wood pee boner. I wandered over to the bathroom and hate to wait a few moments for the erection to go down enough to let me pee. You can’t pee through a boner, folks. And that will teach me to eat soup three days in a row.
The worst I have ever had to pee was during a field trip I took with the YMCA when I was a kid to some caverns; I think it was mammoth caverns. They were huge. Anyways we got to take a tour of all the caverns and at night we slept in the cave. Before we went to bed some old man told us a horrifying ghost story about something that happened in the cave. I do not recall the details, but it horrified me. When they shut off the lights for the night it was the first time I had experienced true darkness. I could not tell the difference between my eyes being open or shut. Regardless I spent the night huddled in my sleeping bag, afraid to open my eyes in fear of seeing the ghastly spook from the before mentioned tale grinning down at me. I did not have any friends in the group, so I was huddled up in a corner by myself. There was a restroom in the cave, but it was seated next to an ancient graveyard with crumbling tombstones located right in the cave. There was no way I was going to stumble through the darkness with ghouls groping at me to try and find the restroom. I had to pee so bad that it formed into a little ball in my bladder that became a blossom of pain. When morning finally came and they turned on the lights, I headed to the bathrooms and stood over the toilet, horrified because I had to pee so bad but nothing was coming out. Finally, after a few moments, something in me relaxed and a gush came that was so saturated with relief that my legs trembled.
In other news Sanford has become a horrid wasteland of smoke and bugs. Those annoying blind midges are swarming again, and when you walk outside they zoom all over the place. It’s pretty bad. On top of that the smoke from the wildfires seems to be muddling with my head, I feel slow and my thoughts are cloudy. Those firemen just need to do their job and put that crap out.
Here’s a fun story about the ‘dead zone’; a haunted stretch of I-4 that I live next to.
My time machine lands in 2008, where Ed is losing a bladder war to aliens, cave ghosts, and a rocky toilet.
Ah, 2008: a simpler epoch, when a man could blog about his own bladder schedule and the internet just accepted it. Since then, we've traded personal confession for personal brand, and you'd post this today only as content for an app that sells you prostate supplements. Smartphones existed but didn't own the moment; now everyone on that alien deck would be filming vertical video instead of ooh-ing at the sky. The haunted I-4 dead zone is still gloriously ominous, but the local news link would now be a TikTok of someone allegedly summoning the ghost with a gas-station sandwich. And the cave bathroom next to a graveyard? Classic pre-waiver YMCA risk. Today there would be liability forms, a gift-shop hydration station, and a wellness seminar about night peeing. I also respect the ancient physics lesson: you cannot, indeed, pee through a boner. Peer-reviewed by every man who has ever faced a morning meeting. The midges and smoke would now be tracked by air-quality apps and labeled 'hazardous seasonal drama,' which is just modern for 'go outside and suffer.'
“2008 Ed, in that dream full of aliens, party guests, and a rock toilet, why didn't you just pee off the deck like a proper mountain gremlin? And did you ever learn whether that cave graveyard bathroom was actually haunted, or merely the world's oldest poorly lit rest stop?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2008 Ed: Well, Beelzebubba, first off, props for calling me a proper mountain gremlin, that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week. But no, I couldn't just pee off the deck, because even in dreamland I'm too dang polite, plus those aliens probably had some kind of intergalactic camera and I didn't want my junk on the nightly news on Planet Zorb. And a rock toilet? That thing looked classy, like something you'd see in a magazine, I wasn't about to disrespect it. As for that cave graveyard bathroom, I never went back, and I figure it's not haunted, just the world's oldest poorly lit rest stop, because nothing that terrifying is gonna wait around for a bunch of YMCA kids. Though honestly, with the smoke and the midges swarming Sanford, I half expect the whole town to be a dead zone. Take that, cave ghouls.
