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[François]

I'm watching the Conan O'Brien show. It's an interview with some actor named Martin Smith, kind a of leading man type, tall, short black hair.

Conan: In other news, I hear you're a father now!
[applause]
Conan: Congratulations!
Smith: Thanks, thanks. It's... yeah. It's a boy.
Conan: What did you call him?
Smith: His name is Conan Fitzgerald Smith.
[wild applause]
Conan: Well, I... I'm honored-
Smith: You should be!
Conan: But, that's not... That's not something you inflict on a child! I should know!
[laughter]
Smith: Hey, don't put it down, it's a good, solid old name!
Conan: Come to think of it, now that you endorse it, maybe it'll get more popular. This may be a good thing for me!
Smith: Yeah, it's a shame the hospital staff didn't think so.
Conan: What do you mean?
Smith: Actually, my son isn't named Conan yet. The nurse just brought back the forms, and said they didn't allow that kind of name.
Conan: What?
Smith: She said it was shameful to give a weird or silly name to a child and that the hospital rules didn't allow it.
[laughter]
Conan: That's... that's... wow. I mean, I understand her point, but-
Smith: Normally I'm not the kind of guy to take that lying down, but we were both exhausted, my wife was in labor for almost fifteen hours, and I had just become, you know, a father. I didn't feel like duking it out. We could always change it later, that can be done.
Conan: So what did you do?
Smith: I took the forms, and, I don't know, I wrote the first, the first syllables that came to mind. I didn't pay attention, I was tired, and it didn't actually matter.
Conan: So what's his name?
Smith: *sigh, nervous laughter*
Conan: Out with it, man!
Smith: My baby's name is Koth Thorbot.
[laughter]
Smith: I know! I don't know what my problem is!
Conan: What!? Koth Thorbot?
Smith: Koth Thorbot!
Conan: That's... yeah! Wow!
Smith: I'm sorry, son. We'll get that fixed, they have to let us fix it.
[laughter]
Conan: What gets me is that Conan was rejected, but they let Koth Thorbot pass.
[raucous laughter]
Smith: Look, I don't know what to tell you.
Conan: I think I have to change my name to Koth Thorbot now. Maybe we could arrange a trade.
Smith: Haha, no man, you don't have to do that!
Conan: Alright well, that's all the time we have. Thanks for dropping by, Martin!
[applause]
Smith: No problem, anytime.
Conan: Up next, Courtney Costanza! Stay tuned, folks!

The title card comes up: "The Dream Time Show with Conan O'Brien Koth Thorbot". I wake up before the commercials air.

[Lottel]

...
That sounds plausible.
And I'd watch it.

[JDigital]

Dreamt that Team Fortress 2 for Mac was $0.99, and I bought it just to get the headphones.

[Büge]

I dreamed that I was put on trial by the various aspects of me. It played out like a performance or catharsis. All the while I was thinking "How can I make this into an art project?"

I don't remember what the charges were.

[Zaratustra]

I dreamed I was playing portal 2 and I found a glitch that let me see the ending and gabe banned me from valve presentations forever

there were also two different portal types: time-delay portals (whatever goes in takes a while to come out) and another that I don't remember but let's call it propulsion portals (whatever goes through is shot forward)

[McDohl]

and then Gabe banned Zara from the internet forever to lock him in valve's basement to work on HL2 Ep 3.

[Zaratustra]

that is not possible, I don't make hl2 mods and I didn't go to digipen

[François]

Dammit, twice now I've heard that Gordon Ramsay had opened a bakery downtown for some reason and I went to get cookies and woke up the instant before I could put one in my mouth.

[JDigital]

I dreamt he died of a heart attack at a swimming pool due to taking viagra.

[Fredward]

I can't remember the full details of my dream last night, but I recall running from a forest fire and seeing Michael Cera's penis. Not sure in what order.

[François]

I'm in the bizarre near-future alternate-reality version of my hometown again. I'm taking a stroll on the boardwalk along the Yamaska, and there's an open-air art show going on, with various local artists displaying paintings and sculptures. Officially there was a choice of theme (either Monty Python's penis song, or rhinoceros diarrhea), but everyone just brought whatever they had regardless, and you couldn't tell there were even themes except for the speakers piping the penis song in loop.

I meet the daughter of a painter on exhibition there. Pretty, curvy, short blond hair, dressed in a loose white robe. She strikes me as someone who has just been initiated to fantasy literature and thinks elves are just the awesomest; she tells me her elf name and remains in character. We jokingly argue for a moment about the pronunciation of a q preceded by an apostrophe, then she tells me "it doesn't matter, you can call me friend".

I grab her hand and kiss it. "I will, with pleasure." She blushes and smiles. I think I have a thing going on, and I need to follow that up quickly with something memorable.

"So, what brings you here today, friend? Dongs or rhino shit?"

The epic failure contained within these words rocks the foundations of the dream reality. I instantly wake up, feeling incredibly disappointed with myself.

[Mongrel]

My condolences on your cerebral betrayal.

[Disposable Ninja]

I dreamt that I got a sex-change operation. A really crappy sex-change.

For one thing, my new vagina was really high up. Also, there wasn't a hole, I just had the appearance of a vaginal opening, but only if I squished it together. And the surgeon dropped a flashlight in there, because if I played around with it enough it would light up.

I think he just grafted some skin onto my crotch, because towards the end of my dream I got an erection beneath my new vagina.

[Lottel]

That's... that's...


Wow.

[McDohl]

I dreamed a few nights ago that my step-dad passed away and I attended his funeral.

[R^2]

I dreamt I was trying to run a D&D game, but all the players were lousy and wanted to use shitty third-party stuff I hate. Clearly my friends are trying to pressure me into a game too much and my subconscious is struggling to remind me why it's a bad idea.

[A²]

I dreamed a few nights ago that my step-dad passed away and I attended his funeral.

I had a dream about that involving my dad.

When I told him, he asked how many people there were and if we had hired a clown.

He later said keeping a light tone about that sort of thing helps keeps things in perspective, and remind you (the people there, at least) how much you think of that person.

[Mongrel]

Last night was really weird by my standards.

I posted earlier that I rarely have nightmares, and even when I have a rare dream that might consist of subject matter that would be nightmares for other folks, I'm not disturbed or frightened by them, I just... deal with the problem.

So the first dream was just kind of whatever. I think a fat, mostly housebound french fellow and I took up art theft as a trade and we had a weird reciprocal system where he'd steal things I wanted and I would do the same for him, though we'd team up sometimes. We didn't do it to line our pockets but to build collections in our own home.

The second dream was just bizarro. I was kidnapped by a nasty, obese bar-owning white trash type of fellow (I really can't remember why, but it was a dumb reason) in a seedy area of town (not a slum or anything... more like the parts out by the airport that are all titty bars, vacant lots, and gas stations). At first it was a straight captor/captive relationship where I kept trying to escape from places like a locked shipping container or a bar backroom, but then it turned into a very weird abuse/abuser relationship. Not like stockhom syndrome, but I was hanging around in this weird relation ship where I was beaten and possibly raped regularly giving the same reasons for not leaving that a beaten wife would. The dream ended when I shot him in the back of the head.

I mean, that was just really dark and bizarre and violent (and vaguely homosexual) by my standards. Considering my typical dream is like OH BOY ADVENTURE TIME. I was really kind of disturbing. Not because "Oh no! I had a 'Gay Thought'!" or something stupid like that, but disturbing like a ten year-old who was at the theatre to see Toy Story, accidentally wandering into a screening for Ichi the Killer instead. Or something.

[R^2]

I dreamt that my van caught fire. Just because. It wasn't even running. Later they hiked my college tuition payments to four times more than I actually make in a month.

Why yes stress is starting to get to me why do you ask

[Büge]

Last night was really weird by my standards.

I posted earlier that I rarely have nightmares, and even when I have a rare dream that might consist of subject matter that would be nightmares for other folks, I'm not disturbed or frightened by them, I just... deal with the problem.

So the first dream was just kind of whatever. I think a fat, mostly housebound french fellow and I took up art theft as a trade and we had a weird reciprocal system where he'd steal things I wanted and I would do the same for him, though we'd team up sometimes. We didn't do it to line our pockets but to build collections in our own home.

The second dream was just bizarro. I was kidnapped by a nasty, obese bar-owning white trash type of fellow (I really can't remember why, but it was a dumb reason) in a seedy area of town (not a slum or anything... more like the parts out by the airport that are all titty bars, vacant lots, and gas stations). At first it was a straight captor/captive relationship where I kept trying to escape from places like a locked shipping container or a bar backroom, but then it turned into a very weird abuse/abuser relationship. Not like stockhom syndrome, but I was hanging around in this weird relation ship where I was beaten and possibly raped regularly giving the same reasons for not leaving that a beaten wife would. The dream ended when I shot him in the back of the head.

I mean, that was just really dark and bizarre and violent (and vaguely homosexual) by my standards. Considering my typical dream is like OH BOY ADVENTURE TIME. I was really kind of disturbing. Not because "Oh no! I had a 'Gay Thought'!" or something stupid like that, but disturbing like a ten year-old who was at the theatre to see Toy Story, accidentally wandering into a screening for Ichi the Killer instead. Or something.

Clearly you feel that your father's methods of raising you was inadequate and you are seeking a surrogate father to give you more guidance in your life.

Also, you're gay.