It’s been a while since I have had anything to write about here. A few scattered dreams don’t make for interesting writing, I think. I had one a few nights back where I was married to Homer Simpson. More than once I have woken in the middle of the night and thought, “Hey, that was an awesome dream! I should remember that for my blog!” only to wake again in the morning to find that I have utterly forgotten it.
But last night’s dream is still pretty clear in my mind, so here it goes. My family and I had just bought a new house, off in the country somewhere, which was attached to a large wine-making and horse-raising structure. Like a winery and a stable all in one. The house its self was more like a large mansion in an awful state of disrepair and neglect. It was dark and dusty and falling apart and our goal was to fix it up and run a business.
While we were there I went for a walk with my dad and my sister to a little gas station type place just down the hill from our new hours. It was night time and it was dark and the gas station looked abandoned and I don’t know why we went. But I did have the presence of mind to bring along a couple of nice coffee mugs with me, which had been given to me as gifts from various admirers or fans. These mugs were all really ornate and elaborate and cast after a couple of my favorite webcomics.
As we were wandering around out in the parking lot of the gas station, a polar bear appeared. And it attacked me. But it was really ineffective, kind of slow, and didn’t seem to know what it was doing. It cornered me but I was able to fend it off by smacking it in the face with one of my mugs, and then putting that mug on its head like a hat. It wandered off and I was just sad that I broke my mug.