The One in Which Jaws Thinks Godzilla is a Wimp

This post was originally a part of the now defunct Somnaplegic blog.

Dream Log – November 9, 2018 – sometime between 3-6am PST

So me and my band of scrappy vaguely 20 something pals are kicking it around a giant indoor-outdoor mall, working an international espionage case and debating the finer points of pancake versus waffle (waffle, DUH), when Jaws attacks.

Now when I say that this is a giant indoor mall, I mean that this is really like the largest event coliseum ever imagined on speed with a shot of mega growth hormones and no roof. Don’t try to make sense if it, it’s a dream. Suffice it to say there are buildings inside the building that has no roof. So it’s like a city? But I just know it’s all an indoor paradise, lots of exotic plants and 5-star food courts. Also, there’s a parade with giant air-skimmer style balloons roughly every 15 minutes. 

This parade thing is important.

Image Credit: the somnaplegic

How does Jaws attack a shopping mall? Is it on a pier? No. I have no sense that there is any body of water larger than the cool fountains that shoots out laser light and gouts of fire periodically. Children frolic in the laser-water-fire fountains. Evidently fire and water together in this place do not create clouds of flesh melting steam, just a cool, kid friendly experience. Nevertheless, Jaws attacks. Jaws, has gained the ability to fly and has grown to the size of a sperm whale. 

She seems deeply insulted by the parade balloons and keeps using them to sneak up on people and eat them. Also, she takes a dim view of the infrastructure along the way and topples light posts like the worlds worst slalom skier. Yes, in this dream Jaws is female and Jaws is a massive douchebag. But her ultimate goal, at lease in my narrow world view, is to keep me from finding the bleeping bathroom. Every time I think I’ve found a safe haven to sit down and have a tinkle, this asshole shark attacks. I swear she is laughing silent shark tears the time she knocks out the walls to the green and orange circus tent in which I have found a truly nasty port-a-potty. 

My friends meanwhile, do not seem terribly invested in surviving the 100 foot flying shark attacks or respecting my need to pee. They do care that the balloon parades are being disrupted, and about the state of the worlds oceans, to which they attribute the giant flying shark and her rampage of douche baggery. They also feel strongly that the artisanal Portuguese pancakes they keep shoving in my face are superior to Belgian waffles.  

To this I say, “Screw you all. Your pancakes smell like cat litter and I’m done with the lot of you.”

About the point that I fling the plate of grayish pancakes into a flaming fountain is when Godzilla shows up.

Honestly, I think Godzilla just wanted to join the amazing balloon parade. There was none of the iconic roar or the radioactive mouth gysering. Godzilla just sort of ambled into the whole thing, checking it out. Maybe Godzilla wanted a snow cone?

Jaws, was having none of it. The blimp like grey blue menace rocketed across the square, deflating a  giant bunch of celery (there were a lot of fruit and vegetables represented among this particular balloon parade) along the way and rammed Godzilla square in the left shin. Bam! Godzilla stumbled and sat back in a sad sort of hunker, too-short Godzilla arms attempting to cradle a scraped and bruised leg.

Godzilla keened a sad soft cry and looked at Jaws with misty tearful eyes. Godzilla seemed to be saying, “Why you come at me? Why you got be so mean?”

Jaws hovered several stories in the air smirking and then sneezed on Godzilla, in the ultimate act of distain and dismissal. Jaws then floated off, casually smashing a bunch of massive inflated grapes into the side of a building. 

Looking on from beside an overturned car, I began unbuttoning my pants and headed to the fountain. God dammit, if I had to watch Godzilla be bullied by a smug, asshole fish, I was bloody well going to empty my bladder and I didn’t give a sweet biscuit who saw. The parade of ragged kale and carrot balloons trailing cables and traumatized operators trundled sadly on.

*This post was originally a part of the now defunct Somnaplegic blog.