Have you ever had an amazing dream, and when you wake up you remember the whole story to the tiniest detail, but an hour later it’s all gone. You just remember that it was awesome and you just wish that you wrote it all down. Well, I’ve had those moments plenty of times, but this morning was the first time I actually picked up pen and paper. And now it’s time to share the crazy drunken adventures I have in my sleep with you. Now I know it’s all fiction,but I placed this post in the category Real Drunk Stories, since I really had this dream and who knows how much of it will come true in the future.
The story of this dream started with our arrival in the Bratislava, where some friends and I would have a reunion. Now the funny thing is that this is actually going to happen in reallife. In June some former Polish colleagues and I will go to the Slovakian capital to do exactly this. And in real life we are looking for more of ur former co-workers to join us. However, like in most dreams, a lot of unexpected people show up in this one.
When my Polish friends Iwona and Ferenc and I arrive at our location, we find ourselves in a mini Las Vegas. It has an old gravelpit where people who brought their own booze and drugs are smashing themselves. Around this outdoor part lay bars and ‘casino-stripclubs’ on one side and a corridor shaped like a U-turn on the other side. As we get to one of the lawns around the gravel pit, we see my brother and some of his friends, who went by car and therefor arrived earlier. But more important: that car carried our beer, wine and liquor. Other people who arrive to the scene are my Bulgarian friend Nikolay (that’s right, the co-writer of Lords of the Drinks) and my Dutch friend from back home Dennis.
As soon as we dropped our stuff we hit the nearest casino-stripclub combination. Dennis hits the slot machines, while Nikolay settles himself in front of the stage. I head to the bar to order some drinks. As I turn around I see Nikolay getting a lapdance and Dennis cursing at the machine. “It’s not going well?”, I’m stating the obvious, and he tells me he is 200 Euros down. “How the hell did you do that? We are here for half an hour.” As I look towards the stage, I see Nikolay getting his second lapdance.
Now Dennis is gone, but somebody tells me he went to his car or the ATM to get more money. His dog Jayden, a huge bullmastiff, meanwhile is walking freely through the casino, scaring the shit out of people. Now Nikolay yells at me from the slotmachine if I can lent him some money to win his back. Apparently the lapdances were 40 bucks a piece. Within a minute he also loses the 100 Euros I gave him, and now I need to find an ATM as well.
A cute brunette stripper says she will show me where the nearest ATM is, and we walk back towards the gravel pit. There we meet with Iwona and Ferenc again. Apparently Ferenc outdid himself with drinking and smoking and now lays down in the grass sleeping it off. The nearest ATM meanwhile is screwing with me, and only lets my bank card in half way and then laughs at me with a robot voice.
We (the stripper, Iwona and I) decide to go into the corridor with the U-turn. At first it looks like a bazar with small stores, with the owners in front trying to sell us all kind of crap. A little further the traditional Bulgarian restaurants start, which look nice but still no ATM. In the middle-line of the U-turn the bazar changes into a corridor of my former highschool, with a large amount of loud teenagers. For some reason at this moment the stripper decides it’s time to jump on my back for a piggyback ride. I’m thinking: “Why not, let those horny teenagers have a look at her ass.”
At the center of the U-turn we walk into a classroom to disturb an old teacher of mine. She is not thrilled and yells “Micky, get the hell out of my classroom and take that hooker with you.” Now before I can object that the brunette on my back is not a hooker, but a stripper, security comes. Iwona and the stripper run faster than me and the janitor catches me and guides me out of the school saying: “This brings back old memories.” I reply: “Yeah, I pulled a lot of shit back in the days, but you never caught me in class with a stripper on my back.”
On the way back to the gravel pit I meet many people from Holland. Both from my hometown and from my university. All are apparently quite succcesful in life and I feel uncomfortable telling them what I’m doing: drinking and writing about drinking.
Back at the gravel pit I see another Polish friend, Filip, with whom I studied in Bulgaria arrived. He is extremely drunk and starts smashing his empty glasses. I’m afraid security will throw us out of this awesome place with bars, casinos, stripclubs and outdoor drinking and I try to convince him that this is not a local tradition. But on the other side some other guys are starting to do the same.
Now it’s a little bit later and the party got extremely dull. Nikolay and Dennis left, drunk Ferenc fell asleep, Filip is God knows where and I lost Iwona and the stripper. Then my cousin arrives to the scene. He is already drunk as hell, and yelling and singing. I decide to hit two birds with one stone and convince him to head towards my brother and his friends to drink some beers. I desperately need one, cause I’m way too sober for this place, and a beer might calm down my cousin as well.
When we get to my brother’s group he tells me they left the booze in the car. I realize that since our arrival security appeared at the entrance of this fine place, and we can never sneak our own stuff in now. “You mean you left all 2 treys of beer, as well as a few liters of wine and spirits in the car?”, I ask my brother. “And ketamine too”, he adds with a sad face. I get mad: “Man, fuck you and your drugs, we want alcohol.” And my cousin and I storm off to find one of these Bulgarian restaurants. “A little food will do you good, and I’m sure they have something to drink for me.”
When we get to a nice looking tavern there is only space at a table where some scrubby guy (could be a metal-fan or a Hells Angel) is sitting with his 6-year old daughter. Unfortunately nobody speaks Dutch in this place, so we have to speak in German. My drunk cousin gets annoying and yells at the waiter that he is allergic to lamb, sheep and walnuts. I say: “Well, just don’t order that then.” But he is paranoid and suspects the chef might try to poison him with one of those ingredients.
In the end we have to leave the restaurant, as I escort my drunk cousin. Some stranger asks me: “Is he going home by foot or by car?” I am highly surprised and say: “But we’re in Bratislava. It’s at least 400 kilometers (I just looked it up and the distance to Holland is actually more than 900) back home. The stranger says: “Well yes, but your cousin gets so drunk every weekend that in the end of the night he gets so generous that he gives his car away.” Just when I’m feeling very proud that this guy shares my blood, I wake up.
So even though it was quite a long read, I hope you enjoyed it. As said, I have crazy adventures in my dreams all the time and I’m really happy I can now finally share more than flashes with people. I hope I’ll be able to write more of them down, and I encourage everyone to do the same. I think I’ll finally have that beer now, cheers!
2 thoughts on “The first time I actually wrote down my crazy dream right after waking up”
Thats a good one Mick. Weve something in common aside booze. As i also am a vivid dreamer, fitful even since childhood. Kicking, tossin, turnin while dreaming. A Pentecostal Aunt once told my Father…he’s possessed. Some one “in the know” once told me to write stuff down quickly, just to see how ridiculous it was later on. She also allowed that there is a chemical in the Brain that quickly wears off once awake. Dont remember if it was serotonin or what. But it made sense. I read recently how we only use 10% of our Brain while awake, but when sleeping? we use 90%. The whole bit about the Lamb, the Chef?…classic. Just add booze…Beer O’clock.
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hahaha yeah mate.I’m gonna write my weird dreams down more often. I was lucky I desperately needed to take a piss, or I would have turned around and this story would be lost forever.