Dreams are powerful. Have you ever dreamed you were peeing? Yeah, you know what I’m talking about.

Everybody dreams. It’s the body’s way of blowing off steam (the non-metaphysical answer provided by our friend Science). However, we forget an estimated 95 to 99 percent of our dreams. Some people don’t remember their dreams at all, which is a shame, because my dreams are awesome.

Like when I was 6 and a mugato was loose in the house.

The mugato was an alien monster from the most recent “Star Trek” rerun I’d watched. Given it was a man in a horned albino gorilla costume I shouldn’t have been frightened at all, if it weren’t for the noise.

A storm had driven me into my parents’ bed and, comforted by their soft warmth, I went immediately asleep. When I woke, or thought I woke, I was still in that bed, however I wasn’t alone.

A low, guttural growl seeped into my parents’ room and I slipped away to see what it was. A mugato stood in the living room sniffing – for me. Terrified, I crawled back between my parents to hide, but as the growl grew louder, I knew it had found me.

Shaking, I woke in exactly the spot I’d been in my dream – and the growl was still there. It was my dad snoring.

That was fun, right?

I still dream like that. In my sleep I often discover ancient relics as Indiana Jones. I save the world from alien invasion (you’re welcome), the zombie apocalypse (an occasional pat on the back would be nice) and once, just once, I rid the Midwest of the scourge of matriarchal Nazi cannibals.

I turned that dream into a recently published novella.

So, people who don’t remember dreams, I really do feel badly for you. Usually. Not so much last night.

My toddler wants someone to hold her. How often? All the time.




From the moment she wakes until the moment she sleeps, she wants either my wife or me to pick her up and let her poke us in the eyes.

We don’t hold her as much as she wants, but a toddler can really wear a parent down. I’m glad she can’t talk. If she could and wanted a nose ring right now, I’m not sure what I’d do.

So when I dreamed of being inside the humans versus aliens video game “Halo” with my 11-year-old, I worked my way through the otherworldly landscape holding the baby. Do you know how hard it is to operate an alien grenade launcher and carry a toddler at the same time? I do.

When we captured an alien tank, I pleaded with the Boy to let me drive. I just wanted to set the kid down next to me in the tank so I WOULDN’T HAVE TO CARRY HER ANYMORE. He drove off, leaving me to plod through the rest of the game lugging both the Toddler and the grenade launcher.

I think I would have rather had the dream where I’m peeing.

Find out about everything Jason at jasonoffutt.com.