Alternate title: I have gone completely batshit loco.

I have been having the most BIZARRE dreams lately. This is specially horrid for a person with superhuman three-dimensional thinking and visualization capacities.

I know, I'm bragging, but rest assured that, aside from numbers, I'm a moron in everything else in life.

Well, one was normal, but coming in a very bizarre time in my life.

I would really like to share these dreams with you in hopes of surfacing my hidden emotions and desires.

By the way, if I go gay, I'm killing you guys.

Here goes.

Dream #1

Diane, you're gonna love this one...

One night, I was hit with the unrelenting desire to play Final Fantay XI again. I dreamt that my character, named Aenkelle also, was magically restored to me with everything I left him with, a set of Ares gear (I looked it up on FFXIclopedia... it gave me an instant erection), and the 100 000 000 Mog bonanza jackpot.

I then set upon to kill montrous enemies in epic battles once again. I saw myself executing a one man light Skillchain and defeating Vrtra or another wyrm.

When I woke up, I realized my patholigical addiction to FFXI that I worked to so hard to get over was making a desperate ploy to resurface into my psyche.

I think it's because my life has been so uneventful lately, and so dug into the grind of breaking into the comics industry, that I sublimated this boredom into my long-repressed addiction.

Your thoughts, doctors?

Dream #2

I was walking into an Irish Pub with an enormous thirst. I find a friend from high-school in a booth. I should mention that he always wanted to be a cop. I then find him in peak physical form in a dark blue police uniform, with an HK USP in his holster, a thick mustache and gray hairs.

I should also mention that in the booth he was sitting with Christopher Walken, Jonathan Pryce, and John Ritter. I spent the time sucking up to Walken, chatting up Pryce, and ignoring Ritter, except for when I asked him, "Weren't you dead?"

The background music was Low Rider. As in, all my friends know the low rider.

I have no idea what to make of this. Help me.

Dream #3

This one is less bizarre but a little more harrowing. I was in a Tokyo bar and I got into a fight with some Yakuzas. Needless to say, I CQC'ed their asses into oblivion. I was like Solid Snake, Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris all rolled into one rambunctious ball of 2-fisted 2-legged awsomeness.

The last Yakuza standing came at me with a knife. But instead of performing a final feat of combat godliness on his ass, I froze. I couldn't move. And then the fucking Yak proceeded to stab me in the balls.

Yes. Right in the twins.

This isn't too disturbing in-and-of itself, but what freaked me out is that my imagination went out of its way to simulate the pain of what a punctured testicle would feel like. I actually felt the knife enter my pelvis.

I then proceeded to walk out of the bar, bleeding profusely, and yelling "Tasukette kure yo! Hayaku!" to random Japanese passerbies.

The only thing I can conclude from this is that I have masochistic tendencies, which is not really new to me, but the depth this depravity has sunk to is reason for alarm. If you have another diagnostic to add, don't keep it to yourself.

Dream #4

This one I'm gonna keep to myself since it goes into a very dark place.

Let's just say that picking up prostitutes and then beating them to death with a baseball bat and hiding them in my trunk will probably be my MO if I ever become a serial killer.

Help me.

Please, help me.