Hi, Welcome To Amy's Brain, Where Strange Things Are Always Happening, Especially during Sleepy-Time

So.

I have very strange, very vivid dreams. Dreams that I remember very well in the morning.
Strange as they are, they are also very realistic. In my dreams, I am usually never aware that I am "dreaming" or that it is impossible to say...climb Mt. Everest in roller skates underwater (yes, that actually happened in a dream).
In fact, my dreams are so realistic that it often takes me a while to "shake them off" emotionally, or to actually comprehend they did not in fact happen (ie after the Mt. Everest dream I woke up ready to call all my friends and family and tell them I climbed Mt. Everest).
Dreaming in this way means two things:

a) The good dreams are very good. And breed much disappointment when I wake up.
And
b) The bad dreams are very, very bad. And often I will wake up from such dreams and stay awake for 20 minutes so as to not immediately fall back into them. Or force myself to think about ponies for a solid 5 minutes or other happy things as to hopefully dream about those things when I fall back asleep and not...getting shot.


The "in between" ones? Well. They're usually just weird.

Here is one such "in between" dream. It happened this morning:

So in the dream I am at the theatre I work at for a meeting. The meeting is taking place in the theatre, which strangely enough is filled with a ridiculous amount of people. Way more people than actually work there. Like...our 300 seat theatre has suddenly turned sports stadium huge. There is no ceiling. Only the twilight sky, where I can see stars shooting out other stars (Apparently, in the dream, there was a war going on-American and Germany (Yes. Germany.) were taking over the world. This was so in the stars shooting down other stars) (See I told you my dreams were weird) (Actually, I'm pretty sure EVERYONE'S dreams are this weird) (The oddity in my case is that I can actually remember not just my dreams but what the bizarre images actually signify. Like when I wake up it's not, "Man, I was in this weird stadium with lots of people and these stars were shooting other stars. It was trippy man." When I wake up it's like, "Germany and America were taking over the world as signified by the fact that there were stars shooting out other stars.").
ANYWAY.
So I'm at work. In a meeting. We are being lectured about something. There was also something going on with mobsters. Like, I think we were run by mobsters or something and they were having a private meeting with pasta and oranges and sitting in plush chairs a la The Godfather.
So after this meeting, we go to work. At work in the box office, I mistakenly give someone who calls the wrong information about the performer we currently have at the theatre. The costumer than calls me back and proceeds to yell and scream at me for giving them bad information. I am worried about making this mistake not only for losing a sale, but also because we are run by the mob and the ramifications for making a mistake when run by the mob could be...severe.
Suddenly, me and someone I don't remember are looking at this old LP record. Someone's name is on it, and now I can't remember who's name it was. It was no one famous. Just a name. Whoever found it is telling me that the person whose name is on this record actually made and recorded it himself. So we put it on to play and for a solid 5 minutes in my dream, I hear music I'd never heard before. Makes me kinda sad I have no musicianship to actually play what I hear in my dreams, because I actually hear music I've never heard before quite frequently in dreams(is that weird?!??). Anyway, whoever found this record is telling me about how old it is while we listen to it play. This person tells me the record was 30 years old when she found it when she was young in 1954. I see the date "1954" inscribed on the record and in my head start to do the math (very difficult for me) about how old this record actually must be. Suddenly, the song we are listening to stops, I see the needle glide over the record and for a moment there is silence. Whoever I am with says, "there's one more song on here." We wait anxiously for the needle to cross the grooves on the record into the next song, marveling at the ingenuity of this man to make and record his own records. The needle hits the song. And suddenly loud and clear, the Victrola is blasting "Sexyback."
I.
Swear.

...It was my alarm.
Time for me to get up.