Foreword:

Greetings. My name is Weeber, and I am a nephrologist. As you can probably tell from both my name and my profession, I am an alien from the planet Saturn. Saturnians have three kidneys, one of which stores our thinking organ, and so nephrologists form the ruling class of Saturnian society. That means I would be in charge, except for the fact that I am unlicensed and have performed an illegal kidney dialysis. For my heinous crimes I was banished to Earth, and since then I have become obsessed with the human practice of Dream Analysis. I decided to publicly share five days worth of my own dream experiences in order to help humanity better understand the Saturnian perspective. Read at your own risk.

Wednesday Night:

In this dream I was an egg. My mother was a duck named Quack. She advised me: “The wicked deserve no aid.” That morning, I woke up and told my accountant to stop giving money to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.

Thursday Night:

Tonight I dreamed of an island inhabited by dinosaurs. Contrary to human belief, dinosaurs actually come from Saturn. They were freelance daycare workers until they collectively went on unpaid leave and vacationed on Earth. One day a T-Rex hurt his big toe and demanded workers compensation, but insurance couldn’t pay the cost of interplanetary treatment so human resources deployed a tactical meteor to the Yucatan peninsula. After all the dinosaurs went kaboom, Saturn needed a new pool of childcare labor, and so they called King Tut millenia before he was born using a tin can telephone. It was hard to communicate at first because he only spoke in hieroglyphs, but eventually he understood after receiving a mummified diaper. Together, King Tut, the royal family, and the twist guy from Just Dance™ used a secret portal in the Great Pyramid to teleport directly to the Little Rings Daycare Center in the heart of Saturn. There, they live happily ever after to this day, unlike the dinosaurs. They died in my dream too, but it was consensual.

Friday Night:

My dream began with the sound of slopping and sloshing, and the feel of cold liquid against my outer mandibles. Any nephrologist worth their stones would know: I was inside a human kidney! Instinctively, I reached for my trusty neutron proctoscope, only to get pricked by a discarded paper clip that was attached to a letter from Amnesty International. Here is what it read:

         “We are often not so eager for what we seek, after we have found it.”

                                                                                                  – Signed, Bigfoot

Saturday Night:

Because a written depiction of my Saturday nightmare would be inaccurate, here is a pictorial representation:

Sunday Night:

*Editor’s note: At this point, Weeber is unable to continue writing due to a pending lawsuit from Little Rings Daycare over libelous accusations of mass dinosaur extermination. If you have any questions about the accuracy or renal regrowth potential of this screed, please contact King Tut at 914 Sarcophagus Road. Thank you in advance.*