Flying to the Moon

People always ask me if I'm a vegetarian. I think there's something about me that gives off a vegetarian vibe. Probably because I wear Birkenstocks a lot. Or maybe because, to my family's chagrin, I love patchouli. However, I happen to be quite the carnivore. I love meat. And not just your typical meat. I love buffalo, and duck, and I hold a very special place in my heart for lamb. So maybe that explains the dream. Payback.

Last night I had this dream where I was at some sort of sheep farm owned by my step-grandmother. It wasn't a typical sheep farm, because to my knowledge, most sheep do not bite. At least not frequently and viciously and with the goal of drawing blood. These sheep bit, and they bit for blood. Heels, specifically. So I'm going through this dream and my heels keep bleeding because unlike all of the sensible people around me who are wearing sneakers, I'm wearing my Birkenstocks. Of course I'm wearing my Birkenstocks.

The sheep also all had horns like on Rams that you see in pictures of far away mountains in Europe. Woolly, twisted horns. I suppose that would make the sheep in my dream rams as well. Biting rams.

Now my step-grandmother is not much of a housekeeper. Not in real life or in her biting-ram farm life. There are some people who are not big on the housekeeping, and then there are people who you visit and then want to go home and shower in scalding water and bleach for an hour. She falls into the latter category. And no, we're not close.

So I'm at her farm, trying to avoid being dinner for her rams, and she takes me inside and keeps trying to feed me. All of the food is covered in an oh-so-appetizing brown slime like you get when you forget you had cilantro in the crisper and three weeks later find a soggy produce bag full of brown mush. If this has never happened to you, let me give you a little advice on the subject. Absolutely, positively, DO NOT breathe in until you have thoroughly disposed of the mush in an air tight space. Otherwise, you'll be lucky if you're up to eating cilantro a decade later, and cilantro is definitely too fabulous to miss out on for a year, let alone ten.

So that's my dream. Actually, it's not the whole dream, but dreams have a way of evolving into other dreams that evolve into other dreams and on and on. By the end of this one, I kid you not, I was dissembling lawn mowers to turn into rocketships so I could fly to the moon. Except I knew I wasn't quite sure which part of the lawnmower was needed for this feat, so I was stuffing lawn mowers in the back seat of my Sentra to take back to someone who would know, but then I couldn't shut the doors of my car because the lawn mowers were too big. So I was driving along with my car doors open and got the brilliant idea to hold them shut with a bungee cord. I pull over and am looking for that damn bungee cord and then I see this guy on a snowmobile even though it's summer and so I know he's up to no good.

Then I woke up. Also, I cheat when I play Spider Solitaire.