Dreamertainment

My dream last night consisted of the following elements:
1) Old highschool bandmates
2) Because we were marching on the field
3) Which was pitch black
4) While the overlaid music was Fiddler on the Roof as performed by the Santa Clara Vanguard circa (yes, I like that word) 1997.

That’s what I call a dream: A mishmash of memories and disconnected fundamentals combining for pure entertainment. I don’t know if I have ever dreamed musically, nor do I often have the ability to speak in them either. I had a conversation with my first boyfriend about how tall he was. Even in my dream I questioned why I was asking him that because it was completely out of left-field.

The dream concluded with the band walking up stairs at what was then dusk next to a pond filled with ducks. I’m fairly certain the ducks came from the book I’m reading, Craig Ferguson’s American on Purpose. He was on a wicked acid trip and thought there were killer ducks after him in a park. Yeah, his is an interesting life story.

While apparently it makes me think of ducks, it also encourages my latent desire to speak with a Scottish accent. Thank you, Diana Gabaldon and now Craig Ferguson.

Excellent. This won’t seem strange at all in my daily goings-on.