I Was Buried Under a Pile of Monkeys

I don’t think it’s normal to learn a lesson from your dreams, and I’m not even sure that I did learn a lesson. My dreams are startlingly realistic, most of the time they cling to me far past sleepytime and I momentarily forget whether I’m in dream world or reality. My life is like a melodramatic remake of Inception where the main character, Katrina, an oblivious white girl, works at an ad agency in Los Angeles and compulsively chugs tea out of an enormous Iowa mug her mother accidentally sent her.

Sometimes I can control my actions in my dreams AKA “lucid dreaming.” These dreams are the most memorable because they genuinely feel like a second life. There are certain things that exist in my “dream life” that don’t exist in my actual life. For example, my childhood home always has a pool in the backyard in my dream life but not in reality. This has been the case since high school, so it kind of felt like waking up and realizing you didn’t actually get that golden retriever puppy in real life. Every, day.

By the way, for anyone who thinks this sound “cool” I would gladly trade you this ability for ANY one of your marketable skills… Like the ability to do math for example. Or maybe ability to write code. Programming. Anything of that nature.

ANYWAY. For this dream, I was in Africa with a few friends (no I’ve never actually been to Africa) and we decided to go rogue on a safari. Dream Katrina is constantly putting herself in vulnerable situations with wild animals, not sure if that means anything, but she sure likes to do it. For the safari we were walking through a desert savannah and kept spotting monkeys in the distance. They disguised themselves as trees before attacking their prey… It was as acid trippy as it sounds, yes. Picture Kirby’s World for NES in that level where the birds all shoot out of the tree when you pass it (if you get that reference please notify me, ASAP, I’d like to make you my husband.) There were also alligators, rhinos, plenty of shit that can kill you. But we were prancing carelessly around like we were in a fucking Minnesota cornfield.

My friends rushed ahead of me and out of sight. In real life this wouldn’t be a huge issue because I’m fast as all fuck, but in this dream I might as well have been 95 years old with metal knees. While I fruitlessly rushed onward, I accidentally stumbled under what looked like a harmless tree, but was actually an aggressive nest of monkeys. This troop of monkeys leapt onto my back and paused for a moment while I pretended to be dead. They chattered amongst themselves, probably deciding how to best feast on my innards. What the fuck else could the monkeys of my subconscious possibly have to say? 

Unfortunately this was a very heavy pile of monkeys, and I needed to breathe, so they quickly figured out the truth as they felt the rise and fall of my ribcage underneath them. I braced myself for contact, which is a horrifying prospect if you’ve ever seen anyone who survived a monkey attack. Monkeys rip faces off.

For reference, this is sort of what the monkeys looked like:


Before you make fun of the size of this monkey, let’s discuss a few things.

  • Look at its fucking teeth
  • Look how angry he looks
  • Imagine at least 12 of him on your back (you’re completely alone)
  • He is a wild animal, so the fact that his mouth is about the size of a cat isn’t relevant because this motherfucker will tear into you barehanded with reckless abandon on INSTINCT
  • He is defending his nest

Anyway. I’m deflecting because I’m trying not to be too morbid. This entire post is a little off, sorry mom, these are the things that keep me up at night (or not? these are the things that haunt me while I sleep?) 

The moment underneath those monkeys felt so real that I genuinely thought I was going to die. I felt those near-death thoughts flying through my head. How disappointed my parents, friends, family would be that I died in such a reckless way. I thought about how my last moments on earth would be wasted by my own ignorance and overzealousness. I would be just another white girl who thought she was invulnerable and could run around unknown territory without any repercussions. Just like when I used to walk home alone from Allston back in college at 2:00 am and get into strange cabs who offered free rides.

Most of all, I thought about how this was the real, black, immanent, void. The end.

I came to that lonely realization that I imagine most Atheists have in the back of their mind (but are too busy playing World of Warcraft and blaming ~society~ for their problems to admit.) When you reject religion or a higher power as a concept, you reject the belief in an afterlife. You truly believe that when you die, you just rot in the ground and that’s it. Maybe people scatter your ashes or whatever, but you cease to exist in any way shape or form. Bleak. As. FUCK. (I’m really fun at parties.)

When I was younger and a “practicing Lutheran” I had these types of dreams, I’d get to my Monkey Pile Moment and I’d pray. I’d pray that God would save me or that somehow this wouldn’t be the end, and many times when I did this I’d be rescued or brought to some other reality within the dream. But now, at 25, I feel that crushing defeat of ultimately losing faith. I don’t believe anymore, I genuinely don’t, and having that vividly illuminated in a dream is startling. 

On the optimistic side, I realize the importance of self reliance. Being able to find solutions for yourself and work your way through The Monkey Piles Of Life (I hate myself for just saying that… I feel like I just wrote a fucking sermon which is some pretty tasty irony for you literary fiends out there who might be picking apart my work trying to decide if there is any deeper meaning! There’s not, and I’m sure that’s not what you’re doing here.)

Let me try again without getting all preachy. I woke up from this dream covered in sweat, with a very sore throat from some sleep-apnea-esque snoring (I’M SORRY, I’M ACTIVELY WORKING ON IT OK?) and I felt myself actually relax a bit. Whatever the hell gets thrown my way, whether it be an entire tree full of monkeys, a knee injury (please no), or a career change… I’m gonna make it work. I’ll be ok. 

Your story is not already written for you. If you’re an Atheist or even just someone who is questioning faith, spirituality, etc… If you’re feeling like you have nothing to fall back on… You do. But either fortunately or unfortunately, that thing is you. As I’ve said many times before, if you don’t like your life, it’s time to grab it by the haunches and hump it into submission. Because you can, no one else can.

Genuinely beautiful song about loving yourself even though everyone else might think you’re a lunatic ❤ (and they might be RIGHT)

The Dreams You Die In

I’m not sure if it’s stress related, but I keep having dreams where I die a violent and painful death. I know it might sound like I’m kidding, but it has happened at least 5 times in the last month. And before that, I don’t think it ever happened to this graphic and vivid extent.

If you’re not a fan of dark, morbid and graphic stories… you might want to just stop right here and go back to whatever you’re supposed to be doing right now. Otherwise… I’m about to show my true colors, enjoy.


I was coming back from a field trip with various people from my life. We’re on an enormous school bus. When I say various people from my life, I mean a truly odd assortment. The dude who stood behind me in line at Davy Wayne’s and is now randomly on my soccer team, my mother, nondescript people from BU, Chris Farley… yeah I don’t know.

Everyone is having a good time, some people even suggest a game of bus truth or dare. Nothing sounds more appealing to me than playing truth or dare with my mom. Truly sounds like something we’d both not hate at all. Anyway, we’re driving in Minnesota in the winter.

We get to a certain point in our drive and there is an enormous soccer goal obstructing the entire road. Rather than stopping the bus and seeing if someone can move it, the bus driver decided to go off-roading on the snowy hill next to the road. This happened to be the same snowy hill from my elementary school growing up.

I quickly realized this was a bad idea and tried to vacate the bus. I somehow got outside the bus and was running alongside just as it struggled through the snow and tipped over on its side. Right on top of me. I was hoping for a surge of adrenaline or something where I could lift the bus, but unfortunately this situation played out pretty realistically.

I laid face down in the snow as the bus slowly crushed me to death. I laid helplessly, hearing the screams of the other passengers. The air deflated from my lungs and my entire body caved in, liquids of all sorts oozed from my body. I heard the sound of that. The last thing I remembered before startling awake next to a beautifully sleeping Talya.

Tipped Bus


I actually fared a lot better in this one than in the bus accident. I became an icon of the apocalypse. Talya, Alyssa and I were recently talking about how we’re all going to die in the massive Los Angeles earthquake as soon as it happens. Good chat, ladies. I dreamed about it.

I don’t even remember how it started. I just remember being in the midst of chaos and wind and objects flying around. For some reason people looked to me for guidance? I don’t know why… I had the whole Mad Max mechanical arm girl vibe though. I tore up my clothes and was ready to fight the undead. I don’t think I looked Charlize Theron sexy though, I looked more like a dirty mechanic girl with the weird mole on her face who you’d have to put a bag over the head of to have intercourse with. You know? Not saying that’s how I look now, but in this dream there was definitely something more rugged and masculine about me. Maybe excess arm hair? Not sure.

Things didn’t stay like the movies though. Pretty soon entire buildings were collapsing. And enormous pieces of debris took people out. Just as I was rallying the troops to push seaward, an enormous piece of debris whacked into me and knocked the wind out of me. My supporters gathered around me like I was some sort of Khalesi and I told them to press onward without me. I knew I wouldn’t make it.

My ribs were crushed and one of them pierced my heart so my heart just slowly leaked all over the rest of my organs until it couldn’t beat anymore. My supporters carried me to a shitty lean-to shelter and stayed with me until the very end. They probably died shortly after I did. Idiots.



I literally burned alive. For whatever reason, someone felt that they needed to pour gasoline over my entire body then light a match and toss it at me. Of course I burst into flames. You know… Just burning alive not really knowing why you’re getting burnt alive? It’s fun. My flesh melted away and I swear I woke up feeling itchy as hell. The craziest thing about fake burning alive is that you’re super aware of it and it goes on for a while. I imagine if you burn alive in real life you go into shock and die pretty fast. But for me, I was like a flaming human being for a good half hour. I picture my flaming self as the red Morphix from Dark Rift 64… (If anyone besides my brothers gets that reference I will marry them. Not kidding, you can send me a message on Facebook or something and we can work out wedding arrangements.)

I think eventually my entire house/apartment set fire and I just laid down and watched all of my possessions burn away. I think the cat managed to escape because, you know, cats are always lookin out for number 1. Guaranteed my asshole cat would run out of the building and alert no one that I was burning alive. He’d just live on the streets without a care in the world. Dickhead would be happier as a street cat.

Satan is coming at me from down below warning me of the undead life ahead of me. I am absolutely going to hell kids. If there was not a sign before, the fact that someone set me ablaze for no reason in my dream. I’ll take that as a hint. Send me help. Send the Herbalife people to save my soul.


(Unfortunately this was the only picture of Morphix I could find…)

I don’t know what exactly this all says about the current status of my life. I think my instability is sexy. Not having a home for nearly a month? Adorable. Almost taking a job I found on Craigslist that barely paid minimum wage? Sexy. Telling people that I’m an aspiring writer and comedian while unemployed? Seductive.

Periods of instability show you how strong you can be. I know that’s cheesed as fuck, and I know I admit to my cliches a lot and they’re almost becoming a cliche in themselves. I’m being serious though. The start of 2016 has been pretty hellish, but also pretty wonderful in a lot of ways. I struggled for a while with how to close this post, I don’t want to say too much but I also don’t want to shrug off the fact that my life has been in turmoil.

I’ll leave you with this: I went to the grocery store last night to buy ingredients to make something for dinner. I left with a carton of eggs, a package of bacon and a bottle of Smirnoff.