Underwater Wine Making

OK, here is the deal.  I have stated here on several occasions the fact that I have the most vivid, unconventional, strange and amazing dreams.  They are weird.  They are complex.  They are in color (I don't care what wikipedia says).  Now I don't want to sound like a broken record and I hate to keep bringing up the dream thing but every now and then I endure a night of unsurpassed mental imagery that I simply cannot ignore.  So please bare with me for a few minutes, my Tender Lumplings and I will try not to freak you out too much. 

First a quick review of the night.  It began with a visit to a friend of mine and his wife.  Simple enough, but in this dream version his wife was Hispanic and her entire family, none of whom spoke English, lived in the house with them.  They didn't like me much judging from the tone of their voices and the few Spanish insults I understand.  Then I walked down the street to where my grandmothers house had just burned down.  I knocked over a tree and it smashed my Dad's garage with him in it.  He wasn't hurt, just pissed.  After that I found myself in a post apocalyptic setting where most of the world had been destroyed and covered by water.  The water was very thick because of all the people that had died dissolved in the ocean and made it thick.  What little ground was left was soggy and radioactive.  There was however a farmer's market selling what seemed to be fruits and vegetables.  There was some guy who wanted to make wine with the "grapes" they were selling even though everyone said not too.  He planted a vineyard in the radioactive ground at the bottom of the ocean and started making wine.  Meanwhile there was a museum to show what the fish of the old world were like but the examples that were left started dying off.  So we had to close the museum and get everyone out before they realized what was happening.  Then I woke up. 

I have given up a long time ago trying to figure out what my dreams mean.  I would go nuts trying to superimpose some sort of symbolism onto these messed up images.  They really mean nothing.  But I am very curious about just what kind of fucked up mental chemistry produces this stuff.  Where does it come from?  I could never think up this stuff in my waking hours yet every night my slumbering mind can produce hours of the junk.  There must be something seriously wrong in there. 

I know how to fix it.  But I can't tell you what it is.  In the meantime I'm just gonna get my brain really drunk before bed.  I hear you, "no, no that's a terrible idea."  And you are right.  So I'm not gonna do that every night... just Monday through Sunday.  Until next time, Dearies.