I went to sleep on Thursday night and woke up Monday morning after the most remarkable, non-Nyquil induced dream ever. I was in New York to see if it was true that the Yankees were in fact doing just fine without A-Rod. Turns out they are. I could have trusted my instincts on that. Dreaming about it must mean I have trust issues.
In this dream there were cops everywhere. Each time I turned a corner, there was another one. What do you think that symbolizes? Maybe I have authority issues too.
I vaguely remember something about Elmo and Spider-Man. I wonder what that was all about. Maybe the cops were there to make sure Elmo wasn’t harassing Spider-Man for money or it’s possible I have some repressed childhood memories. Hmmmm.
What happened next is a bit blurry. Militant Sumo wrestlers dressed like Native Americans were shouting Bible verses and then suddenly, Madame Weebles was there.
I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is yes, Madame Weebles does have the power to appear at will in other people’s dreams. That is one of the reasons she’s a force to be reckoned with. Of course, she uses her powers for good. After all, she is a genuinely nice person and as much fun as any Yankee I’ve ever known. She’s beautiful too.
For some reason I couldn’t stop laughing. The next thing I remember it was morning. I got into a taxi and before we were completely around the block the meter was already up to seven dollars. The taxi stopped, I was back in Italy with my loyal follower, except this time his sisters are with us, eating calamari and cheesecake and drinking Irish coffees.
It must have been a dream. How else can I explain hurling through the air at incredible speed beside my loyal follower, floating through crowds on the streets of New York City, zipping underground in a tunnel once flooded by a hurricane, AND revolving in slow motion high above Times Square seated next to Madame Weebles?
Of course, it isn’t totally out of the realm of possibility that this really happened. In fact, it is just as plausible as say, me sitting atop a longhorn in a field of poppies.
Am I a mad over-thinker or what?