On The Front Of An Envelope (And Half The Back) At 5:20 A.M.

I know there's nothing as boring as listening to someone tell you about a dream...unless it's READING about someone's dream. But you're just going to have to bite the bullet on this one. Just keep telling yourself it could be worse...you could be a cowboy in the old west, needing his leg sawed off by the local barber, without even a shot of whisky, but only that bite-bullet. See? Doesn't it help to put things in perspective?

Anyhoo...if you can stick with it until the end (NO CHEATING! DON'T SCROLL DOWN!), you'll se that I DO have a purpose, even though it's a narcissistic one, tooting the horn for my valedictorian dream mind. Apparently, I dream with a sense of humor. Don't get your hopes up. Humor is highly subjective.

In this dream, I was in college. Seems like it was The Pony's campus, but he wasn't in the dream. It was the first day, and I was wandering around, looking for my next class. Somebody ran by, saying, "SHOOTER! He's shooting people in red!" My friend in the red vest didn't wait for me out front to go to our next class. I was wearing red leggings, with Santa faces on them. I went around the building, and into the next one, thinking my class was there.

Turns out that building was for college and Olympic athletes. I was up on an empty stage. I went all the way across, and down the steps. Athletes were sitting in the audience chairs, which all happened to be facing away from the stage. They were crying and praying for an athlete who had been shot. I went up an aisle to get out, thinking the athletes were staring at me because I didn't belong there. 

There was a cafe where I came out. A man sitting at a table offered to tell me how to get to my next class. I sat down with him. I didn't understand the diagrams he was drawing on his napkin. His wife sat down, and she said she would tell me, and started gesturing with her hands. I said, "Just tell me left of right. We're facing this way..." 

However, that lady didn't explain any more, but told me that she and her husband had a tiny house, with a spare room for little kids to stay over. They had two new beds to put together, in boxes. "We always just pray we'll get it right. We're not good with this."

I told her, "Oh, now you'll have Farmer H to help."

Next thing, we were in that tiny house, in the spare room, with two see-through boxes of bed parts, one box like a cube, and the other a rectangle. One was blue, and the other green. Farmer H was on his way. 

On the wall, I saw they had a long wooden plaque, country blue, with little flowers, and pegs for hanging coats or clothes. Painted on it, in a yellow-gold color: "Jesus the Carpenter, Not Needed."

Yeah. I have no idea what that means, but I thought the wording on that dream-plaque was kind of funny. You may not. I guess it's like when Seinfeld wrote down his dream about Flaming Globes of Sigmund.