Dreams are amazing things, aren't they? Without providing too much fodder (I hope) for any Sigmund Freuds out there, here’s a fun snippet from the one I had last night.
I was at a parade somewhere watching a fancy-stepping marching band pass by. After a while, I had to leave. Why? Beats me. Anyway, I walked to a bank of elevators inside a quiet office building where, mysteriously, I suddenly found myself standing. As I waited, I noticed one elevator had yellow construction tape across its closed metal doors. An orange traffic cone stood in front. A sign said, "Elevator out of order." After a moment, the doors to the broken elevator opened. It figures, only the broken one works, I thought nonsensically. But I nonchalantly enter it. And down I went, observing the passing floors through a rattling ragged opening. It felt perfectly normal. Then I woke up.
What does it mean? Dude, who cares? It was kinda cool. But it could be the start of a good mystery novel.
My Own Private Inception – Part Deux, perhaps? Heh.
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