My dreams are sometimes so transparent as to be fit for the even the dullest dullard to be able to figure out the meaning. Other times, they are so extremely odd that I find I can’t look my subconscious mind in the eye for fear it will see that I’m sort of creeped out by it. A dream I had last night falls somewhere in the middle.
In a twist on the “final exam day and I haven’t been to class all semester” or the “in the middle of the grocery store when I realize I forgot to put on pants” motif, check this one out: I realized just a couple of weeks before it was my time to take over from Rick Perry (in his first appearance in my REM state) that I’d been elected governor of Texas via a massive write-in campaign. Even in the dream I realized how ridiculous this was. I was woefully unprepared. (A lot like real politicians, now that I think about it.) Once I realized that I needed to get my shite together, I buckled down with my staff to prepare and started moving into the governor’s quarters (one-fourth of a four story building full of yuppie lofts). I remember that they were very concerned about how much I cuss.