I had a dream. Or dreams . . .

Oddly enough, I’ve had this exact dream.

Actually, I’ve had hundreds. Maybe thousands.

No, not my dreams, as in wanting to be a record producer, coach the Lakers or be Kate Beckinsale’s personal assistant/man-toy, but my actual dreams.

For my entire life I have had vivid, detailed dreams that have bordered on insanity. Once I dreamed that I was eating a giant marshmallow, and when I awoke one of my pillows was missing. Hey-O! Just kidding. I’m about to get all serious up in here and I wanted to add some levity, albeit briefly.

Seriously, my dreams are really, really strange. Some are so real, so unique, that I don’t know what to make of them. For instance, I dream regular dreams about people I don’t know and have never met. I can literally describe them to you in detail the next day. How do you dream about strangers?

Some of my dreams, like the one the other night where I felt like I was in Europe 100-years ago, almost make me believe in reincarnation. That would explain the faces and places I don’t know and have never been to, right?

Some of my dreams would make Freud’s head explode, like the one where I was swallowed by a giant worm. I actually cut my way out with a Bowie Knife and ended up in some sort of rainforest filled with these cool tree houses. The last thing I remember was hiding in one of them and worrying about who lived there and when they would return. I know, weird, but I could describe the tree house in detail if you asked.

When I was 7-8 years old I had a dream about a bat chasing me through the yard as it screamed “D-A-A-A-V-V-V-E!” in a high-pitched squeal. I wear to God I was terrified to fall asleep for 6-months because that dream was so damn real.

Another horrific dream I had as a kid involved a dwarf that was standing by my bed. He had a beard and long hair. In my dream, I awoke and there he was, looming over me. Well, as much as a dwarf can loom. Anyway, I jumped up and punched him in the stomach. My fist made a hole, flies and bees came flying out, and spiders and caterpillars came crawling out and up my arm. Chilling dream.

Don’t get me wrong, not all of my dreams are bad ones. I once had a dream involving Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac that may still be one of my Top 10 life moments. Have mercy.

Sometimes my dreams can just be silly. Just a couple nights ago I dreamed I was managing a rock band and I was in a meeting with some executives setting up our tour dates. The band was there, and as usual I can describe each of them in detail. I can see them clearly in my mind. And get this – our band name was Scream Barn for Lunch. I actually woke up chuckling and wrote the name down. I then Googled the band name just to see if I’d heard it somewhere but found nothing. Where the hell could that name have possibly come from?

But on to a couple of the more interesting dreams I’ve had . . .

A couple weeks ago I had a dream that I know took place in another country. It’s hard to explain how I know this, but I do, and it’s not an uncommon dream for me. The places and faces are different, but I just know I’m in another country. In this particular dream I felt like I was Austria or one of those countries, and I could tell it was the late 1800’s or thereabouts. In the dream, I was working in a little outlying building. There were knives and other tools on the wall and there was an old plow leaning against the wall, the kind that a horse pulls as a man holds the handles as he walks behind. There was a dog with me and he looked like a mutt. I can see that dog clearly as I type this, and I know he was my friend. A woman I knew to be my mother called me and I walked out into the yard, or what there was of it. It was mostly mud. The house was a rickety old place and my “mother” was standing in the open door, wiping her hands on her apron. She was heavyset and was yelling at me in a language I didn’t understand. I also recall seeing a candle burning in a holder on the wall behind her. There was also a rutted, muddy road leading down a hill to our house, and I could hear horses snorting from somewhere behind me. None of the trees had leaves and it was really cold. I could also smell smoke from a fire inside the house.

I know, weird, right? But other than that, nothing happened. I just woke up. But it was so real that I swear I could almost still smell the smoke from that fire.

For some reason a lot of my dreams have taken place in a cold, wooded area that I’m almost positive is Canada or Alaska. I can’t tell you how I know, I just know. In one dream I was in a small northern town, mountains and snow all around, and I was on some sort of city council or something deciding whether to give a permit to a man who  wanted to open a new restaurant downtown. Everyone was against it because they felt his plans didn’t blend with the local architecture. What can I say? That dream was boring but, as always, detailed.

And once, when I was about 10 or 12-years old, I had a vivid dream about my beloved dog Duke getting hit by a car and killed on Route 50 in Bourneville, right across Ted Wisecup’s Gas Station. I even told my parents about it. The next day it happened.

So there’s that.

Bottom line, all this is a bit unsettling. Are my dreams memories from other lives? Are they people and places I saw on TV as a kid and have simply forgotten but are buried in my subconscious? Am I batshit crazy?

Do others have these kinds of dreams? Is it normal to dream of people you’ve never met and places you’ve never been to? I mean, everyone’s dreams are weird, right? Or are mine weirder than others? For the love if God, do I need professional help?

Tell me about your dreams, friends. Make me feel less weird better.

Note: I once dated a girl who claimed she never, ever dreamed. That’s whacked, man. I never trusted her after that.