
An arsehole. Image
Brain: Good morning!
Me: Ugh.
Brain: What?
Me: Why did you have to give me those dreams last night?
Brain: Which ones? The one about the wedding, or the one about the unicorn?
Me: You gave me dreams about weddings and unicorns?!
Brain: Errrrm… No?
Me: *side eye*
Brain: That’s physically impossible.
Me: I know; that’s why I’m telling you I’m doing it. Because I can’t actually look at you.
Brain: Right.
Me: You gave me this stupid dream where I was trying to convince a man to get back in contact with his young daughter. Every time I almost got them back together, something happened to ruin it.
Brain: Yup.
Me: So what was your point?
Brain: I don’t understand dreams, I just give them to you.
Me: Isn’t a dream supposed to be my subconscious trying to tell me things?
Brain: Sure. But the subconscious isn’t here right now to answer your questions.
Me: Where is it?
Brain: I don’t know. I’m not your subconscious’ keeper, you know.
Me: …
Brain: …
Me: Actually you quite literally are.
Brain: …
Me: Can you please take a message then?
Brain: Sure, why not!?
Me: Gee thanks.
Brain: You’re welcome!
Me: So there I was dreaming a confusing dream about a dude and his daughter, when you gave me a nightmare.
Brain: I would never do that!
Me: Liar. You did give me a nightmare. You made me dream about SHOPPING FOR CLOTHES. You bastard.
Brain: That doesn’t sound like me. That was definitely your subconscious.
Me: You made me dream about shopping for clothes AND IT WAS HORRIBLE.
Brain: I wondered why you woke up sweating.
Me: Why do you hate me?
Brain: I don’t hate you. Maybe your subconscious hates you.
Me: Well then please pass that message on to my subconscious when it comes back from wherever the hell it’s gone.
Brain: You’re asking me to tell your subconscious that you hate it? That doesn’t sound healthy to me.
Me: You started it.
Brain: Your subconscious started it.
Me: Bastard.
Brain: That’s not very nice.
Me: Arsehole.
Brain: You seem to be a bit confused about anatomy.
Me: Ugh.
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