As a child of the 70s, a few things are certain. I've had a lifelong love of peasant blouses, so their return to "trendy" the past couple of years has been a welcome development. I never turn off "Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night. It must be sung all the way through. And in my mind, West Virginia was almost heaven - not some haven for rednecks and forget those inbred jokes - because John Denver told me so. So maye this is why, night before last, I had a dream that went thusly:
I was at a picnic at John Denver's house. Really. And it was dark outside, or just turning dark. And he had a very large yard, in which many people were hanging out and partying and eating and all of those picnic-type activities. It seemed like an awesome party, until I looked up above me, and on the very, very, outlandishly high electrical wires above the yard, a tiger balanced. And of course, as soon as I saw him, he fell to the ground, and presumably began ambling around among the guests.
Now I don't know anything about tigers, except that they are big cats with large teeth, and their stripes are quite fetching. And at this point, my mental dream-screen went blank, so I have no idea what befell the people on the lawn. Next thing I remember is that a mountain lion was spotted too, and at that point I had entered John's house, with the baby I was carrying around with me, to let him know that something needed to be done about the wild animal infiltration. Yes, apparently my subconscious mind saw fit to resurrect him for the party. (The mountain lion MAY have come from the Weeds episode I watched last week, although that's a pretty frail attempt to grasp onto some meaning or point of reference here.)
I never remember my dreams, and this is really fine with me. The night this happened, I was getting several more hours of sleep than I've gotten in weeks, so that's probably why my brain shorted out and started out on its very own acid trip, sans drugs. I'm still a little freaked out by it, to tell the truth - and moreso by what in the world could have caused a confluence of a picnic, a tiger, a mountain lion, AND John Denver in my poor, muddled brain. I'm actually a little embarrassed by it, but clearly not embarrassed enough to keep it to myself.
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