The Oasis and the Drink Machine

I have this oasis and drink machine dream a lot. It’s one of those dreams that change from time to time but it always has the same basic theme and elements, the same trappings. In the dream I’m walking through the desert thirsty, looking for a drink machine. I keep seeing an oasis, so I run to it-I run to it and when I get to the shore it disappears, just an illusion. Sometimes I find the drink machine, sometimes I don’t; in this particular instance I find the drink machine but I don’t have enough money to pay for a drink. So I break the machine and take a drink, and all the others start flying out in random directions across the desert, one hits me and I fall down, spilling my other drink. I’m still thirsty and still have the taste in my mouth so I walk on. Then I see the silhouette of an angel on the hill, an angel I don’t always get to see in the desert dream, because most of the time it’s just me wandering, looking for something, either something to drink or something else, but this time I got to the hill with the angel and the angel stood in front of me and asked me had I been a good boy. I told her no. She took my works (for a junkie their works consists of a spoon, a dropper, a syringe, and cotton-balls sometimes, that’s what my works were, anyway, and I carried them around in a leather bag.) She takes my works (see prior sentence destroying techniques) and turns the spoon into liquid metal and swallows my syringe. It goes down her throat sideways and I can see it in her neck. Then she opens her mouth to talk and pills like bees come out and start circling around me and attacking me until I woke up. Fin. Dreaming is interesting. I don’t attempt to interpret; it seems overtly obvious to me. An angel takes away my junk and medication and exhales the pills I’m addicted to, then the words start attacking me, and then the angel disappears. Very easy conclusions to reach with this, and people that don’t know me might go ‘that’s a fucked up dream’ when people who do know me say ‘that’s a fucked up dream’ though for me such abstract stupidity came with my guarantee, mother fuckers. Your verdict, your honor? Stop putting people into categories.


Published by

Brandon K. Nobles

Brandon is an author, poet and head writer for Sir Swag on YouTube. With 630k subscribers. Since February 2021 he has written for the most important and popular series, News Without the Bulls%!t and the least popular work on the channel, History Abridged. Brandon joined the channel in late January, since then his work has been featured every month in News and History. His novels and works of fiction have also been well received, and he continues to be a proficient and professional chess player. In his spare time he like to catch up on work.

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