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Stephen Hawking is ruining my night

August 1, 2009

Some people find people talking about their dreams boring, i don’t, i love hearing about people’s dreams and i like telling people about my dreams because a lot of the time I have cool ones. Last night however, my dreams violated the dreampeace accord by allowing my subconscious to create an array of highly disturbing circumstances involving Stephen Hawking. I’ve had so many Stephen Hawking dreams throughout my life and I don’t know why. Below is the most disgusting to date.

I had two short dreams, the second as a result of waking up so disturbed by the first that i fell right back into another horrifying SH situation. The first (and worst) started with myself joining an acquaintance on his job as a carer, i was to take photos of his daily duties for a forthcoming article or something, apparently i was a journalist. I had no idea he was a carer for Stephen Hawking. When we got ‘there’ we were actually at my house which I found strange, and i was amazed to see Stephen Hawking sitting in his robot chair. He was quite functional, more so than he is in real life and i introduced myself and told him i really enjoyed A Brief History of Time. I’ve only read a few pages of it in real life. Anyway, he was quite taken with me, so much so that he didn’t want to use his robot voice anymore and opted to speak with “real words” which were incredibly hard to decipher because I am terrible at even understanding accents. Somehow it came about that i was now his carer for the day, i felt uneasy about this because at this point in my dream he had taken on the persona of this guy that used to come into a shop i worked at years ago called Mr Lake. Mr Lake rode a mobility scooter and had really goggly eyes, i’m not sure what was wrong with him but it made him slur his words and restricted his movements. Sometimes he dribbled. As a seventeen year old, i used to dread his attention because when it was time to serve him, he would hoist himself up onto the front of his scooter so he was leaning on the counter, hand me whatever CDs he was buying and then dribble out something Italian like “bonjourno bella” (said in a London accent) and i would say “Hello Mr Lake, how are you today?” and he’d snigger and say more slurred Italian words and look at me with his protruding, goggly eyes. Back to the dream: seeing as he’d taken on characteristics of Mr Lake i now felt more than uneasy. Mr Hawking kept leaning forward whenever i had to bend down to put something in his robot buggy and would try to suck on my ear. Yes, suck on my ear. I told him i didn’t like that and could he not do it but whenever i looked at him his lips were really wet with dribble and he had this weird pleasured sneer spread across his face. Before i knew it, there was a public function occurring on my lawn. Lots of people had attended so i had plenty of people to talk to, even though i had to stay fairly near Hawking because i was his carer for the day. He had somehow gained the ability to get up out of his wheelchair and hobble for a few steps. Much to my annoyance. He would do this often and gurgle under the strain. Then after sneakily hobbling onto me he’d fall down and grope me whilst simultaneously licking my ear. He was like a drunk retard and i hated him. After a while people had to start restraining him because he was so intent on touching me that he started getting aggressive. The final straw for me came when…he came. That’s right. I was assisting in having him restrained when he loudly exhaled, with a groan. I looked down and to my horror saw a wet patch forming on his crotch. He was wearing medical scrubs so they showed everything. I just stared. He’d cum in his pants because i was touching him. At that point i think my mind knew that i’d had enough and i woke up. I was so distressed by this first dream that as soon as i fell back asleep i was thrown right into a new Stephen Hawking scenario. This time i was going door to door in a motel checking people weren’t having wild parties in their rooms. I got to one door where there was quite obviously something crazy happening inside. So i opened it to find the place teeming with young Japanese girls all in a huge pile on top of a bath, there must have been three dozen! When they saw me they squealed and all piled out the motel room giggling and running off in all directions. What was left was a speechless, semi-naked Stephen Hawking laying in an empty steel bath. I thought he’d had a heart attack because he was laying so still and motionless but, in fact, he had become inanimate with all the pleasure he’d just been receiving from the Japanese girls. There happened to be another guy in the room who helped me pull Hawking out of the bath and onto the bed. Mr Hawking’s lower body was completely boneless and he had baby’s feet. I found this distressing to look at because he was wearing shorts and no shoes. Everything was really quiet and i just sat on a wooden chair next to his bed staring at his tiny feet and boneless, withered legs, feeling overwhelmed with debasement. He came around from his sexy coma and started talking to me about how he had come to be the way he is (crippled and whatnot). I felt sorry for him because although he was a grotesque semi-boneless dribbling man now, he used to be quite the lothario and through telepathy he showed me his life pre-cripplement. In fact, he had been quite handsome. There he was; laid out motionless on a grubby motel bed with his little baby’s feet and boneless legs in just shorts. Helpless and dribbling through his wet lips, he was still doing his best to charm me.

Stephen Hawking was nothing like i imagined.

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