The Skillz Report

Skip to a giant mall; I'm training to become some sort of medic/rescuer, and my trainer instructs me to duplicate her rabbit-hop up the nearby escalator. She, being young and small, does so with ease. I, being less young and far less small, do not—but I do better than I probably would IRL. We don't get any calls, so I go off to the side and wash clothes.

Someone has made a Steve Young effigy of my laundry, complete with a pink towel for his brains—creepy and cool all at once. When a semi-attractive female sets up next to me, I'm inspired to sing "I'll Never Break Your Heart" by the Backstreet Boys to myself as clothes are loaded. End vision.

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We Fix Cars, NOT Problems (December 20, 2017)

I'm an actor inside a clunky-looking studio. I accidentally, and indirectly, cause an older co-star's toddler to fall from a table. Even though he's unhurt, said co-star demands to fight me later on. He's at least 55, but he's capable...uh-oh.

On the recommendation of another co-star, I visit two grungy mechanics down the block, seeking advice. They half-assedly listen to my predicament, then go on about their business with an arriving vendor. When I try to pick up our discussion, one mechanic simply lifts my 300+-lb. person with one arm and carries me out. "You are one strong dude," I tell him. He calls me a pussy.

Fight time arrives and I look for my foe. He comes from his dressing room 10 feet tall, encased chest-to-knees in a red foam cylinder—he's basically a giant Push Pop. I simply tip him over and rain down punches until he stops moving.

Things close with a skip; I'm on a beach with some huge peg board with game pieces of a man and his dying elderly father attached to it. Based on zero evidence other than their Jewish appearance, I determine them to be Krusty The Clown and his papa. so over to Krusty's three-story house I go to look for the father's property. All I find is a clock radio...end vision.

Hit The Showers, Kid. I'll Be There Soon (December 15, 2017)

Tonight may have set an unofficial record for most skips in one night—no fewer than eight times did my dreams transition from one setting to another. (Not all were mention-worthy.)

At the outset, I'm watching my daughter play soccer with friends. After a while, as one might expect, it gets too boring to take so I join in and score a goal to put everyone out of their misery (although it took five tries from point-blank range). I attempt my best Brandi Chastain after the score, but my shirt gets stuck around my head.

With the game over, the adults take the kids to a small theme park. Everything is fine until we learn the only way out of the park is sliding down a tube filled (and I mean FILLED) with liquid soap. Everyone makes the slide...and spits a whole lot after hitting the ground.

I next find myself with the cast of the original Full House in that grassy park from their opening credits; everybody's throwing golf balls down and clubbing them at random, including me. At one point John Stamos picks up his ball and throws it at Dave Coulier but hits me in the stomach instead. No apology, either.

The vision continues with me groggily calling a friend in the middle of the night; she answers and I apologize, blaming it on me rolling over my phone in bed. Moments later her kid calls me back and goes on and on and on about absolutely nothing and I'm left to either fall asleep on him or hang up on him. I choose the latter.

Lastly, my IRL third-grade teacher is now teaching a high school driving course. A classmate, Zante, keeps calling me by my real name instead of Skillz. When he refuses to stop, I resort to "Just be a pal, Zante!" All the "cool" kids in class fall over laughing at my lameness.