Rabbit vs Trix, and why I hate Lake Mead

 

 

Last night I dreamed. 

I also woke up four times, and my memory only permits a brief window between dreaming and the writing of these reports. I've tried writing my stuff down immediately upon awakening, but that isn't as pleasant when one has to pee. Additionally, I have to feed the cats, brush my teeth, make the bed and attend to a bunch of other insistent time-consumers in between the time of the dream and the time I finally sit down to write.

My cats agree that there is a certain level of priority to the tasks that I must perform in a day, and writing my dreams down doesn't even make the list.

Back to the dream...

I dreamed my friend E____  was lying next to me in my bed. There was no light, except for the faint glow of the electric heater in the bathroom. We lay there side by side in the semi-darkness, presumably both sleeping. 

I woke up, still in my dream, and upon my awakening, she rolled over in my direction and looked at me through sleepy, squinted eyes. In the dim light, I could see a mischievous smile beginning to form at the corners of her mouth.

"When was the last time you kissed me?" she asked coyly.

I had to think about it. "Never" was the word that came to mind, but I didn't say anything. My mind was still trying to process the question. Was this a trick? Was it an invitation? Was I dreaming? 

Ding, ding, ding! You are correct, sir. Answer number three. Tell him what he's won.

Unable to fathom how to answer, given my semi-lucid dream-state condition, I blinked a few times, and this ended the dream. Trix - 1, Silly Rabbit 0.

Next, I was transported to Lake Mead where a search was underway for a missing cache of, um, cash, left by D.B. Cooper. I was walking around the lake's perimeter in an area near a spillway leading out into a major river. 

Water was moving fast in that area of the lake, and falling in the water was not on the approved list of activities. Naturally, per dream protocols, the instant that I became aware of the danger, the ground underneath me became unstable, crumbling away and leaving me scrambling to remain attached to the bank.

I grabbed a tree root, and it held me long enough to get my bearings. Little bits of earth were still crumbling away, and it was then that I noticed a very weathered, dirt-encrusted briefcase embedded in the rocky earth. The seams had been eroded away, and I could see stacks of silt covered, dog-eared currency, presumably stashed by the missing hijacker, poking out.

As I reached for the handle, the tree branch I was clinging to gave way sending me and the briefcase into the drink. Floating toward the spillway, and certain death, I had but a few moments to regret my life choices, and then I woke up. 

My last thought in the dream was, "Now I remember why I hate Lake Mead."