What does this dream mean?

I was looking for a reason to believe when I slipped and hit my head on a dream.

I grabbed the corners of the night sky like a bed sheet and tried to straighten it, rolling it in waves. The stars came unhinged and shot upward. Sparks cascaded down and singed my beard; some of the sparks fell into the black holes that are the centers of my eyes. I suspect these sparks have collected like a swarm of fire flies and are floating somewhere in the outer space of my mind.

I lost interest in the night sky when I looked at my hands and noticed they were stained with the blackness of it. So, I continued on my journey. Halfway across a river I felt something digging into my ankle and upon removing my boot I discovered that Saturn had fallen in there and its rings had been digging into my flesh. I removed Saturn and upon further inspection noticed that it was cracked and that a yolk like substance was leaking from it. Curious, I peeled off the rings and cracked the planet the rest of the way open. What fell out, embedded in yolk, was not what I expected. At first it looked like a pale featherless chicken but when it spread its legs and craned its neck I realized it was human and wasn’t just any human. It was Mahatma Gandhi. Yes, the father of Civil Disobedience and right before my eyes he grew to the proportions of normal human being.

Hi there, I said, not being able to think of anything more charming to say. Hi there, he said. Do you have a towel? I didn’t have a towel but I had my polyester disco shirt so I took it off and wiped him down, making sure to clean him thoroughly for fear of some strange outer space infection taking hold in the folds of his skin. Thank you earthling, he said. I bowed and then did a split, which is no easy feet in one boot, standing on water. Very nice, he said, but I had something different in mind. Really? I said. Yes, really, he said. Now listen to me carefully. You must be the change you wish to see in the world.

Right, I said. Gandhi wrapped my disco shirt around his waist and beckoned me closer. I have a plan, he said. I thought the plan Gandhi laid out was at the very best whacky but who was I to question him? So I gathered seven thousand of my closest friends and we hiked to Washington DC in one continuous line, hands on each others waists. Once there we enjoyed the sites and dined on hot dogs from the street vendors and then it was time to do what we’d come to do.

As the sun set we surrounded the white house holding hands in a giant circle and then we handcuffed ourselves the person on either side of us. I still didn’t understand what exactly we were doing, Gandhi’s plan wasn’t all that clear.

As the full moon rose above the White House I noticed a figure on the roof he was hunkered down behind a massive machine gun. Suddenly he began to fire. The machine gun lit up the sky and I saw the man at the trigger was none other than W. and he was cackling madly as he squeezed the trigger. As those around me were blown to bits I saw Gandhi approaching W. from behind. Evidently he’d scaled the side of the White House, using the ivy covered lattice as a ladder.

Stretched between Gandhi’s hands was a length of piano wire. I felt several fifty caliber bullets rip through my body as the woman to my left fell dead but I wouldn’t die, I refused to. Die! I cried. Yes, die, Gandhi cried and then he cinched the wire around the commander in chief’s neck. I watched as his face turned from red to purple to blue and then his life was over. Gandhi stepped up to the machine gun and loaded it with cans of Diet Coke and fired them at us. The cans magically hit the same spots as our wounds and plugged the hole in my heart and I stopped bleeding as did all the others. He shot another Diet Coke at me and I caught it, cracked it open and held it up in the air. I toast you, I said and he nodded and spread his arms, clapped his hands and we all disappeared.

What the Hell does this dream mean? I have no idea but it might have something to do with drinking one too many Troegs Hopbacks last night.