I’ve been sleeping on the other side of the bed lately and it has yielded some interesting dreams. This is one of them.

It was set in some desert town in New Mexico or Arizona. Somewhere that easily serves as the backdrop for post-apocalyptic films. I was hanging out with a bunch of hooligans, people I didn’t know in waking life. One of these friends persuaded me to drive a truck in the big monster truck rally the next day. I agreed. The rallies in this part of the world happened in football-size arenas and were gladiatorial duels which tested man and machine.

Later on, I somehow found out that the rally was happening in an arena called Fleshdrome. I had been betrayed by my friend. I wouldn’t be driving a monster truck at all, but instead I would be strapped down to a rack in the arena as a potential target for the drivers. I played along, pretending I had no knowledge of my friend’s plans and acted like I was going to be driving a truck the next day.

On the night of the rally, as I was crossing the carnival-like midway, I ran into a girl that hung out with us. She wished me good luck in the rally. I embraced her and whispered into her ear that I had been tricked and that my friend was blackmailing me into becoming a sacrifice for the monster trucks. I just wanted someone to know. I walked into a bar where the drivers hung out. I was supposed to meet some guy who would mentor me in the basics of monster truck arena combat. I asked around the bar, but he was a no show. I had all kinds of questions about the rules, but everyone just shrugged.

I didn’t actually get into the arena. Instead, the dream ended on a classic note: I realized that I had been forgetting to go to math class for weeks and the homework was just piling up.