A Who Done It Dream

Sometime I have dreams so real that when I wake I can’t remember if it’s real or Memorex. Remember that commercial where they show the wine glass and you hear the lady singing so high that cats are screeching and dogs are howling and then all of a sudden wammo the glass shatters. The deep voice over comes on and says “is it real or is it Memorex?”

http://www.tapedeck.org/

For those of you out there who are still crawling around in your Pampers Memorex was a brand of cassette tape. You know those things you used before compact disc and way before mp3 players. Yeah those things that you stuck in your cassette tape deck which was mounted under your dash because you bought the cheap car and you hit your knee on every time you slid into your seat. Yep that one. Then you would push the tape which you had loaded with the Bee Gee’s, Peter Frampton and K.C. and the Sunshine band songs off the radio complete with some annoying disc jockey talking over the first 30 seconds of the song when all of a sudden you would hear Barry Gibb underwater. You in a panic would hit the eject button 50 million times until you finally were forced to grab the tape with some needle nose pliers you stole from your dad’s toolbox (sorry dad) and pull it out. You would be left with 16 miles of black tape all pulled from the reels and flooding your car.

From craftingagreenworld.com

I felt exactly like that when I woke up this morning. I had dreamed a dream so real that I swear I had to check and make sure I was where I was and not somewhere else. You see I dreamed about my fellow bloggers. Not all of you and no VE there was no nakedness involved.

Dreams are weird and interesting things aren’t they? I had a psychologist friend tell me that they are manifestations of your unconscious mind. Well let me tell you last night my unconscious mind was pretty active.

 from http://api.ning.com/

The dream started out with me wandering into a conference room was low and behold there was a plethora of other bloggers. Now honestly I don’t know what any of you look like except Nanny Goats in Panties because I have seen her and she was wearing more than just panties. I look around and see Queenie and VE. Over in the corner are Centsational Girl and Mrs. 4’s from Half Past Kissing time eating ice cream. I am standing next to a table with water bottles when I hear a scream. I run toward the scream, because I’m brave that way, and I see Pioneer Woman dead on the floor. Yes I killed off Pdub in my dream. She lie there bloody and dead, eyes agape in the middle of the conference room floor. I turned to get help and ran smack into April from Cold Creek Farm. April grabbed me and told me to come with her. We ran towards the door when Rechelle of My Sisters Farmhouse met up with us telling us we were to go back inside. I went and stood by a window and watched as a small private plan landed just outside. The props stopped spinning and the door opened. Out popped June from Bye, Bye Pie.

I waved out the window at June but she didn’t see me. I started jumping up and down telling her to go back that we were locked in but she advanced and the next thing I know she is standing next to me. “Hey Gladys” she says “good job! Gosh I’m glad someone finally got rid of her what with her cooking and decorating and picture taking she was really getting on my nerves.” I stood wild eyed and scared “but June I didn’t kill her. I don’t know who did.” June winked and replied “sure you didn’t.” I was afraid and tried to get out of the room since everyone thought I had murdered Pdub.

Just as I was trying to open the door Clay, April’s husband from Coal Creek Farm, burst in the room and confessed to killing Pdub.  The Wizard of Otin wrestled him to the floor while Trooper Bob arrested him.

Now I wonder what Freud would say my dream really meant.  Maybe Otin should hire Jamie from Red Red Whine to represent him.

*Disclaimer: No bloggers were injured or maimed in the making of this dream. Please do not go out and try any of this at home, these were trained professionals on a closed course.*