When somebody begins a sentence with, “I had the craziest dream last night…”, I typically have to grab hold of the nearest stationary object in order to prevent myself from briskly and purposely standing up and walking away. It takes every iota of strength for me to muster a smile and pretend to act interested in the impending story. Most of the time, I end up looking like a constipated child as I stand there, trying to ignore the rumble of anxiety that is boiling inside of me. Inside I scream , “Dear Lord, please don’t let me sit through another one of these!”, but instead, I grit and bear it and try to remember my mother’s suggestion that it’s not about me all the time, that other people have a right to talk as well.
However, I feel that even the best storyteller can not make a dream story interesting. Michael, the German, who has stories about taking a dump on the NYC subway platform during the middle of the work day and microwaving a dead cat, wouldn’t be able to make a dream story intriguing.
It’s because dreams are not real, and any exciting or magical event that happens in a dream is simply one giant blue ball for the listener.
“…So then I fought off the ninja with this curtain rod, right? And I spear it through his chest and rip out his heart and fling it against the wall and….”
Lauren walks into the room, mouth agape.
“Holy shit! You killed a ninja last week? Your Mom is going to be pissed that you used her curtain rod to sacrifice someone.”
“No, Lauren, I was just telling Ricardo about my dream last night.”
“Fuck you and your dreams!”
With all this being said, I want to share with you the most common reoccurring dream that I have. It involves dinosaurs. When it doesn’t involve dinosaurs, it involves the aliens from Independence Day. My only assumption is that the films I watched when entering puberty somehow burned a permanent scar onto my psyche.
Or maybe it has something to do with The Blum.
Maybe all the films I saw as a prepubescent that starred Jeff Goldlbum left an imprint on my soul? Maybe the dinosaurs and aliens represent his sheer girth of his manliness my 13 year-old gawky body could not handle. If snakes in dreams represent penises, then what do gigantic Tyrannosaurus Rex *individuals represent???
*PLURALS (from Dinosauria)
A question frequently asked of paleontologists is how to form the plural of a species. If an author is writing about a pack of 15 Tyrannosaurus rex individuals, for example, he wants to know whether to refer to them as tyrannosauri, tyrannosauruses, or some other form of plural. The correct answer is “none of the above,” as when referring to taxa there are no plurals.
Taxa are singular entities. There is only one Amniota, one Reptilia, one Dinosauria, and so on. This extends to the species level: there is only one Tyrannosaurus rex, for example. Each individual of the speciesTyrannosaurus rex is a specimen of the taxon; the individual is not, strictly speaking, the taxon itself.
When referring to several individuals that belong to a specific taxon, the writer must refer to the taxon in the singular and the individuals in the plural. A correct way for the writer, in the example above, to refer to his pack of 15 Tyrannosaurus rex individuals might be “… a pack of 15 specimens of Tyrannosaurus rex…” or “… the pack, comprised of 15 Tyrannosaurus rex individuals…”
It is perfectly acceptable, however, to form plurals of vernacular names. A writer might use the vernacular reptile, dinosaur or tyrannosaur to refer to a single specimen of Reptilia, Dinosauria or Tyrannosaurus. The writer may use the vernacular plurals reptiles, dinosaurs or tyrannosaurs to refer to more than one individual of Reptilia, Dinosauria or Tyrannosaurus.