Dream Land

I dreamed that I was barrel-assing through the desert in a 1970 Bel Air. I was a dude with a fellow dude friend. We were on the run from, best guess, nasty-ass drug dealers to whom we owed mega bucks (just FYI, I don’t actually do druggies, nor do I buy and resell any – except in Dream World…or so it seems). The bad guys caught up with us somewhere in the Nevada desert, just outside a Holiday Inn. Why the Holiday Inn? What – you think we can afford the Ritz? (not that the Ritz has a property in the middle of desert nowhere)

It was here, as we were facing down the gun toting baddies, that I discovered my superpower – I could disappear. How? I became white. Not just pale Caucasian white like Switch in The Matrix but the color of chalk AND I could then, Jedi-esque, become invisible. Mega cool. Yeah, yur wondering about my chum. Why didn’t the evil villains shoot him down?

Fuck if I know. This was a dream, remember? Dreams, often, don’t make sense. Metaphorically?

I still don’t have a damn clue what this means.

• Do I want to be a Penis-American? No. I like my tits AND I haven’t gone through 62 motherfucking years of bullshit misogyny just to give up the fight now. I mean, fer fuck’s sake, I only just stopped having periods – it’s all golden from here! Also too, Ten ain’t Bi or Gay.
• Do I want to be chalk white? ONLY if it Includes and exclusively precedes being able to vanish.
• Do I want to be in the desert? It’s February in New England. It’s cold and snowing like a bastard outside (not like I’m going out today). Being in a nice toasty desert wouldn’t suck.
  

So, it’s another nocturnal mystery show in Donna Land. How entertaining.