The relative flatness of the learning curve experienced when reading my dope ass blog shouldn't be looked upon as a bad thing. After all, the joy in reading it is derived from the intrinsic understanding that "dope ass" is already a byword for genius. Sure, your chances are greater finding streaks of brilliance jolting about during a child's sugary display of Crayola poetry during nap time, but my morning bender of a dream was a cataclysmic explosion of infinitely dense matter that begged to be blogged about.
It proves that my fragmented, damaged and imaginative world of delusion and abstract thought process (while asleep and sometimes not) is something that needs to be studied by behavior scientists and such. I'm not sure what must take place during the course of your day that results in having a dream that you are a frog and your girlfriend is a unicorn. But I'm sure this has zero implication to reality. Before I tell you more about this dream, here are some sharp reviews from dream critics who explored the profound landscape of my head. My dreams are getting rave reviews.
"JJ's dreams strike a match on your eyelid and, before using it to set the cuffs of your underpants on fire, asks you to consider the color of the flame. -- Dark and Out of Nowhere"His dreams are fatal fiber emissions that could trigger mass panic during pillow talk, whether sleeping alone or with Mother Goose." -- Fast Food Before Sleep
"They are tender moments of detached folly, loosely strung together by the thread of resignation and departure. Much like the fleeting feeling of writing an essay with no thesis in sight." -- There's No Method To My Madness
"We rarely experience a more provocative work of sexual prowess. There's a sincere magnetism that poignantly pulls otherwise unattainable women to JJ. Scenes of festive eroticism shower the viewer with sensual bliss, in which you pray that the dream never ends." -- Jizzed In My Pants
"Walking through JJ's dreams are no different than calmly walking into your family den on Christmas morning, nonchalantly asking family members if they have seen any clothes that might belong to you, since you'd be in the nude." -- Through The Halls of My High School
"Sometimes mute, and gray, the sluggish and trite meanderings soar with warnings, fraught with vague but sinister meanings that make the heart grow faint when you realize every turn brings an old familiar face. It's scary, but soothing." -- I Get Emotional In My Dreams?
"This guy is fucked up. There is no better, more apt way to say it. Fucked up." -- I Keep It Real
After undergoing an intense Q&A with my better judgment, I decided to actually turn my alarm off on my phone after it was ringing for too long. Glued to my disheveled nest of layers of bedding, I thought about how absolutely convinced I was that my girlfriend was a unicorn and I had wiry green legs and an incredible bounce to my step. I vividly remember sitting on a park bench, talking to said unicorn, when a I asked her why she was constantly walking but getting nowhere. Upon further review, I noticed she was on a treadmill and she was wearing a cape and I had a magic marker and was drawing festive rainbows on her white coat of hair, feeding her cotton candy, too. We then galloped to a nearby civil war reenactment, where I said, "I wish I had mutton chops."
This is all I remember. I considered the meaning of this for about 30 minutes as the sun light punched me in the face. I opened my laptop and things were a little more lucid when I randomly began listening to this song that I've included with this blog. (It's long but suitable). Who the hell dreams of being a frog? More importantly, what the hell? Strange, but not so surprising. 
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