[Ed’s note: this was in my drafts folder and I deemed it worthy of publication. I don’t remember when I originally wrote it. Also, why am I like this?]
I tend to have really whackadoo dreams when I’m under a lot of stress. Obviously last night was no exception because my dream was
- A mashup of The Masked Singer and the ALDE IGNITE Conference,
- And I was one of the contestants, along with the Rev. Matthew Earl Borrasso,
- And my core strategy for winning was to seduce M. Night Shyamalan
- Who was also a contestant, and HE was dressed like Rocky the Squirrel from Rocky & Bullwinkle,
- And my strategy worked (a.k.a. he fell in love with me YA BIG PERVS),
- And I don’t remember how the dream ended,
- But when I awoke on this plane of reality, I realized it wasn’t M. Night Shyamalan at all.
- It was Taika Waititi!
“Are you high?”
My husband, after I gave him the run down of my dream this morning.
P.S. Is it worth noting that this was the second consecutive day someone questioned whether I was high?
musings of an everywoman 