August 5th, 2005

dreamy dream

Last night my head was filled with surreal goodness. As I slept my mind was in overdrive and one dream consisted of C and I scoring tickets to a Ratzinger piano solo (I don’t know what the hell it’s actually called…and yes, Ratzinger). The cathedral was gorgeous and somehow we landed the best front row seats in the house. He was hunched over looking a lot like Pope John Paul in his later years, but played something fierce that filled the gaudy room with an underlining terror. I looked away from him playing and Chuck was MIA. Next thing I know he is giggling manically to himself with something clutched in his fist: he had a 1” button that read: DEFEND ABORTION RIGHTS. I was surprisingly embarrassed and told him to put it up and stop giggling so loudly and frantically. Which, if you know me outside of dreamland, I couldn’t give two shits. So he runs up to the stage, button in tow, and says, “Hey father, I have a gift for you I think you should wear”. I tried to run out of the room but I looked down and my feet were chained to the floor and my forearm was tattooed with tiny numbers. Ratzinger’s back straightened slowly and resembled Lon Chaney on an ether binge. He continued to play but the piano notes rapidly turned into the stomping noise of Nazi marches and yelling, the cathedral turned into an execrable boot camp but his cloak was covered in diamonds and glitter.

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Moral of the story? Don’t eat tacitoes and watch Bill Hicks before bedtime.
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