Dear Juan,
I’ve been having nightmares. It’s awful. I dream that I’m lounging by the pool reading a Christian mystery novel when Terror Babies surround my recliner. Some are wearing sombreros and have bushy El Guapo mustaches, and others look just like bin Laden. The hairy little fiends shout dreadful things. I'm not sure, but I think they rape me. How can I stop these nightmares?
Suzy Hungerford
Galena, Kansas
Dear Suzy,
Have you tried killing a quart of Yukon Jack before bedtime? Several years ago I was tormented by the same reoccurring nightmare. Without going into specifics, my unconscious mind plopped me naked into a hot tub with Matt Drudge, Joan Rivers and the late Martha Raye. The inexpensive Yukon Jack therapy guaranteed a good fourteen hour coma. Just make sure smoke alarms have fresh batteries. The amber-colored medicine induces what Ozark Mental Health professionals call “dead drunk.” I’ve found the only downside is a propensity to polish off unrecognizable refrigerated green stuff. Play it safe and get rid of all Tupperware containers. Although Yukon Jack neutralizes the green stuff’s toxic assault on natural stomach juices, finding an empty plastic tub from last year’s office Christmas party wedged between your thighs is always a rough way to start the day.
As for the particular baby demons disrupting dreamy poolside reading, I believe buried deep inside your subconscious is a sexual attraction for the “other.” Why these unfilled desires take the form of dark-skinned hirsute babies is troubling, but then I’m only a dabbler in abnormal psychology. Maybe if you fantasized about George Lopez and Sunjay Dutt playing grab ass in the pool before putting Jay Leno out of his misery, the “Terror Babies” could morph into pleasurable recreational sin. Instead of suffering from nightmares, REM sleep might replace your shower head’s adjustable spray nozzle.
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