What I'm Really Learning From College

Whether it be from a psychology lecture, an eccentric friend, or coke fiend Sigmund Freud, I am always hearing about this notion that your dreams may have a hidden message from your subconscious.

Bogus. Holy Freaking God is This Bogus.

It's not so much that I don't believe in this because the man who pioneered it also thought it was a perfectly normal thing for a young man to contemplate killing his father so he may be engaged sexually with his mother Norman Bates style.... No, no, I'm fine with this. The reason I call "bullshit" on dream interpretation is the simple personal experience of my own dreams over the last several nights.

Thursday Night or Why You Should Always Share Your Ice Cream.

I dream that I steal Latimer's Nissan to get a sandwich and on the way, it transports me back to the 1920's. I am arrested and thrown in jail for crashing a car that has not been invented yet. The district attorney comes to visit me in prison and I try to explain that I can't be put in jail because I haven't even been born yet. He says he knows this and was once a childhood friend of mine, and created the whole scenario to get me stranded in a 1920's jail because I did share an ice cream cone with him when we were children. I am visited by a female friend in prison and wake up.


Thanks to the good people at www.dreammoods.com I am able to give a rough though "incredibly accurate" interpretation of my twisted dreams to all of you.

Dream Analysis -


Stealing Latimer's car indicates that I am needy of his or his car's attention. Using it to travel back to the 1920's indicates I wish to live in the 1920's (wow, that's so deep!). The car accident that ensued is a warning that I am (I kid you not) "driving" myself too hard, yet paradoxically, being arrested and thrown in jail can only mean that I am too confined and restricted, and not pushing myself hard enough. As for having a female friend in my dream, it can only mean I want to bone her.

Now, as if it needs said, this is not at all indicative of Corey "Big C" Spring. For example, me wanting to live in the era of prohibition could quite possibly be the most hilariously absurd thing I have or ever will hear in my life. Not too mention me being needy of Latimer or his car (I don't even drive stick). But this, my friends, is only the tip of the iceberg. Let's move on.


Friday Night or The Two People You Want to Be Next to Most While Defusing a Bomb.

This sorid little dream begins on a submarine. It had a very "cruise-like" atmosphere, in that there seems to be no military, and only rich ass tourists on this sub. I take a seat at the dining table to find that my two dinner guests for the evening are Luke and Owen Wilson. Owen is stoned out of his mind. We chat for awhile when semi-respected actor Luke Wilson announces very loudly he has discovered a bomb under our table. I immediately try to begin disarming it and tell the Wilsons to get the captain and some tools. They disappear and I work feverishly against time to disarm the bomb. (Why we didn't just shoot it out of the sub and into the bottom of the ocean I'll never know). The brothers arrive ten minutes later or so and now they are both high and laughing like hyenas. Owen yells repeatedly "Oh man..... Oh man I'm so high.... I'm SOOO high hehehehehe." Idiot. Somehow, while never doing any drugs in this dream, I end up high or drunk or something and give up on defusing the weapon to go find the buffet table for some shrimp (Sidenote: I do not eat shrimp). The last thing I remember is Owen Wilson, star of several hit comedies, putting lipstick on the outer casing of the bomb.

Dream Analysis -

Where do you even begin to start with something as screwed up as this....

Being on this sub cruise is supposed to mean I am cautiously exploring my emotions, and will soon be going on an emotional journey. How the celebrities are portrayed in my dream (constantly stoned) is a reflection of how my best friends usually act (though one could understandably think so, they are not constantly stoned). I am on the verge of exploding with anger and violence because of the bomb, the good people at dreammoods.com tell me. And my favorite, which I will quote directly from the site,

may also mean that you need to look on your inner strength for stimulation instead of relying on outside forces.

So are these humorous little dreams just that, or are they a stark warning of danger to come, possibly warning signs of me about to unload a few rounds at the local post office? I will allow you to make your own conclusions about dream analysis, but I will throw in my two cents about what I think these dreams could mean for me in the future.

Stated simply, before going to bed, do not eat a burrito as big as your head.

Every year Columbus has a fireworks show over the riverfront called Red, White, and Boom. My friend Lisa bartends downtown at Spinnaker's. This is the tale of when Lisa's last day of work collided head on with Red White and Boom.
(This is a long story... if you only want to read about the crazy shit that happens after we are drunk, scroll to the bolded section)

Since it was Lisa's last day of work downtown, and since the fireworks were downtown, it only seemed logical that I should go to her bar with some friends before seeing the fireworks. Seth, Laura, Andy, Latimer and myself get on a COTA bus headed for downtown around 4 or 5.

To give you an idea of some of the cool people who ride the COTA bus, picture a a tall man with long greasy hair, holding a lightsaber and giving you very detailed and specific information about how he "crafted" it and how it's similiar to Anakin's yet made of different crystals. It's a fucking peice of plastic from Toys R' Us, dude, grow the hell up.

Despite the mob of people all over downtown Columbus, we make it into Spinnaker's about half an hour later and sit down to drink #1 and open up our tabs. I had a short Jack and Coke.

Spinnaker's was way more packed than it has ever been (otherwise the place wouldn't be closed now), so we have to sit at a table during our first drink, until Andy wrestles 5 seats at the bar for us. Lisa is happy to see us and looks very cute and festive for the holiday. She promptly takes away my Jack and Coke that I have finished before everyone else (because it was short) and brings me drink #2 - a tall Capt. and Coke. Hey, I like Coke. It is also worth noting that around this time, Seth gets basket of chips #1 from Lisa.

Things pass rather uneventfully while we all chat and slowly sip our drinks, completely oblivious to the destruction that will occur some hours later. Andy and I finish our drinks around the same time and I asked what he was having - it was Tanqueray and Tonic. It looks good, so drink #3 becomes a tall Tanqueray and Tonic.

Around this time Andy has the misfortune to ask what song is playing on the radio. A crazy old drunk guy wanders over to us and proceeds to inform us he has memorized every song released since 1949. Bullshit detector going off full blast, and not wanting to talk to this guy, I ask him what song is currently playing. Crazy guy walks away to the speaker on the other side of the room for a few minutes, comes back, and announces he can't hear it, otherwise he would know. We do this little tango about 3 more times before he decides to leave the bar, and I finish drink #3.

Andy announces that if he has one more drink he will probably be done for the evening... this prompts me to get drink #4 - another tall Tanqueray and Tonic, and one for him. When the drinks arrive I turn to Latimer and ask him if it's almost time for the fireworks. Befuddled, he looks at me, his phone, and the bright sunshiny day out the window behind us and informs me it's only 6.30pm, the fireworks will not start for over 3 hours. I have my first premonition of danger ahead and decide to ignore it and kick back my drink. I believe basket of chips #2 was devoured at this time as well.

I stand up to go to the bathroom before getting anouther drink and have my first realization that I am not entirely sober. Upon returning, however, I immediately forget this and start feeling festive, and ask Lisa to make me something fun. She is happy to oblige but warns me that it will get me drunk; I am not concerned by this in the least, and watch her make a beautiful concoction. I have no idea what the name of it was, or if it even had a name. What I do know is I watched her liberally pour six different kinds of liquor into a tall glass with a cherry, and that it looked neon blue. It tasted and looked like some sort of super awesome Kool-Aid - this is drink #5, and it is delicious.

Andy and I decide we are not patriotic enough and purchase two American flag bandanas from a guy in the bar. He puts his on correctly... I choose to wear mine like Rambo.

Time for drink #6 - which was the biggest and most loaded up with tequila margarita I think I have ever had. Andy bids us farewell, because he decides he has had enough to drink and is ready to cruise for chicks... bandana and all. Our other roommate arrives and orders a beer - Latimer and I make fun of him for not drinking liquor.

I believe it is about 8 o' clock at this point, I am not certain, I only know that it is still daylight, and I am undeniably drunk. Many times when I drink I reach a point where I know I have two choices - stop drinking and remain my sensible self, OR continue drinking and provide a hilarious source of entertainment. I choose the latter and get drink... where are we #7? - it's a big Sex on the Beach.

About now is when our lady friends from 18th and Co. arrive at Spinnaker's. Adrienne comes over to say hi and asks how I am. I put my arm around her ass and tell her "Fantabulous" She can obviously tell I am drunk and decides to egg me on, by having me order a "Purple Rain." This is a super strong drink (at least the way Lisa made it) and thanks to Prince, I now have drinks #8 and #9. It's also time to refuel, with another basket of chips. The girls have a drink and decide they should be drinking something patriotic (and unfortunately terrible) and all order a 4th of July. I do not know what is in this terrible shit, but seeing that Adrienne hated hers and was about to dump it out, I valiantly took it and drank the rest (all) of it... I will not see good booze go to waste. While I do this I am incredibly perplexed as to why cats and dogs are talking and fighting each other with Jeff Goldblum on the bar TV... I later learn I am not freaking out and its just a terrible movie.

I'm pretty sure another drink was had after that, and we finish another basket of chips. My friends and I have completely taken over Spinnaker's. It's about ten minutes before the fireworks start, so we leave our tabs open and I lead a brigade of people out the bar for a suitable place to watch the fireworks - it turns out to be the roof of the parking garage. This period of time is pretty uneventful excepet for when Seth walked right past a row of porta-potties to pee on a car, and my grandmother calling me only to hear kabooms and a slurred Corey, I think she hung up.

The fireworks end, we head back for the bar and order my drinks, I have a tall Capt. & Coke... by my tally, I am about or on drink #12 for the evening. Latimer, however, has been drinking only Jack & Coke all night... a once full bottle of whiskey is clearly quite depleted - Latimer declares he wants to finish the entire bottle in his next drink, and incredibly, he does. This ladies and gentlemen.. is when:

EVERYTHING GOES TO SHIT


Latimer kicks back his drink with speed as I sip on my drink... the ladies rejoin us as Latimer finishes his drink. I think little of how much whiskey he has just drank and head to the bathroom to pee. While I'm peeing I hear someone else come in the bathroom and pee in the stall next to me... and start groaning. I recognize that sound clearly and chuckle to myself about how some poor bastard has drank too much and going to puke soon. I come out of the stall only to find that it's Latimer and he's just standing in the middle of the bathroom swaying... until he starts throwing up... on the urinal... all over the floor... in the sink and counter... everywhere. I stay with him through it to make sure he is okay, and then inform one of the kitchen staffers some stranger has thrown up in the bathroom. Latimer comes out of the bathroom shortly thereafter and I ask him if he is okay. He has no idea what I am talking about and doesn't recall what just happened 60 seconds ago.

I have a final drink (lucky number 13) and we all close out are tabs for the night. What's the damage for all this liquor? Take a look



That's correct - $1.71, coincidentally, this is the price of the cheapest drink that can be charged to a tab. We tip Lisa appropriately for how good she has been to us, and head out.

Downtown Columbus is utter chaos, people everywhere, all trying to get out of downtown... and it is impossible for us to find a cab and the busses are not running. A sensible person like Laura pulls out her phone and starts calling cab companies. I am Corey Spring and I am drunk though... so fuck that. I get in the street and start trying to hail a taxi... but none are to be found. Failing to accept defeat, I hail down a Columbus City Police car instead. This works.

Me: "Do you know if the busses are running, officer? (I know full well they are not)"
Cop: "I wouldn't have any damn idea, are you folks trying to get home?"
Me: "Yea we live on campus, we tried to get a cab but none will stop for us."
Cop: "Okay well you and your friends get in and I'll take you out of this maddness, you're liable to get shot if you stay here too much longer."
Me: "EVERYBODY IN THE COP CAR!"

Oddly enough my friends were hesitant to get in the car, as they thought I was getting arrested, but they give in. Columbus' finest takes halfway home and drops us off in the Arena District, where he says we will be a lot safer and be able to get a cab from here. I thank him a lot but in my head I am pissed at this guy for not taking us all the way home with his sirens on and shit.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my life.

So we try to get a cab from here, guess what - no luck, we have to hoof it home. Latimer and Seth respond to this by wrestling each other on solid concrete. We run into six ridiculous people on the way.

Ridiculous drunk #1 - Robert W. Walker. How do I know his name? He opend up an art gallery and gave me a sticker with one of his paintings and name on it. Latimer told him to get a job and kept walking, I took the guy's sticker. He thanked me for not being a dickhead and said I could drop by the gallery and have a free print if I wanted. For what it's worth, if anyone would like to see Robert's work, his gallery is the RW2 Gallery @ 1178B High St.

Ridiculous drunk #2 - Crazy rapping poet bum (not to be confused with the rapping bum on campus). This guy scared the hell out of Laura and I put myself between him and her. This time I was telling a drunk to get a job, and Latimer was giving him a chance. He went away after Latimer gave the guy a dollar for his "sweet" skills.

Ridiculous drunks #3 and #4 - Two girls walking down High St. towards us with their boobs just hanging out there for all to see.

Latimer: "Hey those girlies don't have any shirts on."
Girls: "NO SHIT, ASSHOLE!!"

We break for Taco Bell (where Seth crams his MexiMelt all over his face ala Silence of the Lambs) and head back outside. I hear someone yell that there are two girls going at it in the drive-thru. Thinking that there is lesbian sex going on in the vicinity of Taco Bell, I rush over, only to see two girls beating the shit out of each other and no one driving the car one of them has been pulled out of. This is promptly broken up by the police, pity. Shortly thereafter, I make it home, 2 hours and about 2 miles after we first left the bar.

Another typical day in the life of Corey Spring