It has been bought to my attention that blog posts longer than 300 words may dissuade readers from reading. I’m not sure yet if I care or not…but here’s a short one for kicks.
Had a dream a few nights ago that I came upon a giant bouncy castle, I mean GIANT, in the middle of a field. Once I walked inside I found that the walls were firm and not inflated but still made of plastic. A man directed me towards a room with an enormously tall ceiling and equipped me with a backpack. Turns out the backpack was filled with nitrous and enabled me to fly. So I could get high and fly. Yikes.
I have no idea what this dream meant, because A) In my drug heyday I never tried nitrous as a compromise to my body – I was already killing enough braincells. And B) Bouncy castles terrify me, with all that hot sticky synthetic material just waiting to pop, collapse, and suffocate everyone inside. Granted, I never hesitated to drive completely wasted down the sinuous highway of 101 to meet a questionable character for cocaine in the woods, (it’s as sketchy as it sounds), and didn’t think twice about driving one state over to evade liquor laws, but bouncy castles? Forget it. That’s the stuff nightmares are made of.