Well, ever since I’ve started taking escitalopram for my depression I’ve started having really weird and vivid dreams.
Last night was a really weird one.
I was riding my motorcycle down a highway somewhere when a cop riding on a bicycle pulled up beside me and told me to pull over because I wasn’t sitting properly upright on the motorcycle and therefore they thought that I was drunk.
As the cop was talking to me their face kept changing from male to female and back.
The cop wanted me to drive to a building for a breathalyzer.
So I drove to this building which looked more like a flop house.
There were a bunch of other people getting breathalyzers as well, and none of them looked drunk.
It was my turn to blow, and the reading came back as zero.
The officer made me blow again, and again I got another zero.
The officer went and got their supervisor. The supervisor told me that I must be drunk as I wasn’t sitting in the seat properly and that I was slouching.
Sure, okay, whatever.
The supervisor gave me a bunch of breathalyzer tests, all of which came back as zero.
I was told to go sit on a couch in the living room.
When I sat down, someone else came and sat down beside me.
Really weird dude. Kept talking about nothing. But then he showed me a trick.
He could point at the sky and stars would appear where he was pointing.
The cops came over and told him to stop that as it wasn’t allowed.
I was allowed to leave.
I got back on my motorcycle and drove to work.
Work was kinda like a hospital, but it was also a restaurant with a dining room.
To get in and out of the workshop I had to open a door that also served as a fuse panel for the restaurant. Every time that I would try opening the door I’d get a 208 volt shock. The panel/door was quite detailed. It had screw in fuses and blade disconnects.
Every time the door was opened, it would trip off the air conditioner and the maternity ward would call down an complain about the lack of A/C.
The restaurant was always complaining about the lights flickering.
One of the servers in the restaurant had a real bad limp and when he’d bring food out from the kitchen the food would always fall on the floor. He’d pick the food up, blow on it, and put it back on the plate. The customers saw this, but they felt sad for him because of his limp so no one ever complained.
Any ideas what the hell this was all about?
This had to be the weirdest dream of all since I first started escitalopram (Lexapro).
Even fever dreams that I’ve had before were never this weird.
Beeshive 