My dream...
So I had a dream last night that I was driving down the highway and a acidentally rear ended this crappy beat up orange car. And who was driving it? None other than the Boston Red Sox right fielder Trot Nixon. So I invited Trot over to my house for a party.
Now, this is MY dream. So do I ask him for an autograph? No. Do I ask him for money? No. Season tickets? Nope.
No, none of this. In my dream, with one of my favorite ball players hanging out at my house, I decide to debate him on the death penalty. And in depth too. My dream was me standing in my living room telling Trot Nixon that he was stupid for wanting the death penalty. Hell, I don't even know if Trot Nixon gives a good diddly hoot about the death penalty. It annoys me that my work has wormed its way into my dreams.
Now, this is MY dream. So do I ask him for an autograph? No. Do I ask him for money? No. Season tickets? Nope.
No, none of this. In my dream, with one of my favorite ball players hanging out at my house, I decide to debate him on the death penalty. And in depth too. My dream was me standing in my living room telling Trot Nixon that he was stupid for wanting the death penalty. Hell, I don't even know if Trot Nixon gives a good diddly hoot about the death penalty. It annoys me that my work has wormed its way into my dreams.