another dream, and the pope beats mother theresa
I wake up groggy; once again my dreams spill over into my waking life and I have to clear my head every once in while and remind myself that it was just a dream; I didn't really walk through a dangerous neighborhood alone, and I didn't really almost lose a child I was in charge of by letting him dangle himself off some rickety bridge that overlooked the East River.
Still, the visions of the dream that still cloud my head are there, floating around me like leftover LSD trails. A secret letter hidden behind a cabinet. A man who is willing to be shot to death in order to save his girlfriend, who is standing on a makeshift altar (wooden crates and a card table), about to marry someone else. All the while someone is shooting the whole scene with an 8mm camera, yelling out directions that no one is paying attention to, and all the while I am watching some large screen tv playing the ending credits to a children's television show, and the credits is really just a long list of blogger's URLs.
I shake my head again and try to analyze it, but there's no clear meaning there, and if I asked anyone to analyze it for me, I would just get a bunch of sexual innuendos thrown back at me. Isn't that what all dreams come down to, anyhow?
So, as I try to make the still-lingering dream go away, I read the news to force my mind elsewhere. I click on the CNN home page.
Pope beats Mother Theresa.
I pinch myself. No, I am awake. Now, this means several things here. One, the Pope died and upon entering heaven, made a mad dash for Mother Theresa's home in the clouds and sucker punched her.
Or, Mother Theresa is not really dead and the Pope, who suddenly seems very spry for an old, sick man, has had Mother Theresa tied up in a closet this whole time and well, last night he just got out of hand.
I swear that this is part of my dream.
I read it again.
Ok then. Nevermind. I'm awake.