I actually had a quasi-nightmare last night. Usually I dream of the dumbest shit imaginable, like being at work doing what I normally do and will do in a few hours. So having something approaching a nightmare is quite a feat. I can't remember too much, but it was so vivid I thought I'd relay the weirdness.
It began like a television show. I was on a sous chef on The F Word and Gordon Ramsay was just finishing instructing me on how to take boiling chicken out of a large pot. After taking a few out, I noticed the last two seemed very much alive and trying to swim out of their oily inferno despite being crispy fried. I yelled for Ramsay to come back as the picture faded to black for a commercial.
The commercial was for Mentos and it started like every one of their eternally happy, all-white people mid-'90s ads. As their usual theme played, we see a beautiful '80s blond inline rollerblading on a twilight boardwalk and just before the theme ends; she brakes, smiles, and holds up a roll of the mints. Suddenly Randy Savage in prime Macho Man regalia cracks the girl in the face with a devastating left slightly off frame. The angle changes and we see Savage picking up the Mentos next to the girl's quivering torso. He then proceeds to hold up the mints for the camera and scream "MENTOS...canyadigit? OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO YEEEAAAA!!!" while doing that weird twinkly motion he does with his free hand. Then the picture freezes and the trademark Mentos guy voice says "Mentos. The Freshmaker!"
The next thing I remember was pouring water on the moving fried chickens. Only this time, they're in a dirty kitchen sink/tub and barely shaking. I realize I'm in Clive Barker's apartment, I have no idea how, but for some reason I'm scared shitless. I seem to know he's left for the morning. I walk by a square inset in a grayish wall featuring an old '50s-style suitcase sitting atop frozen waves of black tar. I'm mortified to even get near it. I then unlock a door and enter a nearly jet black room, can sense the space between the walls, and only hear crickets. There's two skylights, but the light doesn't cast on the floor. The feeling of Francis Bacon's ghost (the painter) floating towards the door frightens me so much I get out of the room and lock the door.
I'm then walking out of the front door, but something grips my pant leg. It's Sadako from the Ringu series writhing at the bottom of the door's threshold, but not crossing over. As her she moves her face blurs in-and-out of focus and she says "Are you sleeping tonight?"
I then kinda wake up and roll over.