Do you ever have dreams so real and bizarre that you are certain you must’ve actually been somewhere that exists because there is no way that place came from your head?
Because I have them sometimes and it’s very odd, and I always want to reach out and say, “Hey, has anyone else been to that safari-style petting zoo that was deserted 100 years ago because of a radiation leak? The one with the sad, balding wolves as big as bears who look at you with desperate eyes? The one where the unnaturally thick and muscular 8-foot flamingoes have taken over as the dominant alpha animal? And they stare down at you with dull, black eyes and disheveled, dirty feathers – more brown than pink – and their savage, cold, prehistoric stare tells you they are considering whether you are worth the energy they’d have to expend to kill you? And then the traveling house shows up (a house carried around on the backs of people so you can have tea and not pay property tax) and you think about hitching a ride but you don’t because you wake up and then the rest of the day you’re haunted by the eyes of those sad, battered wolves who were left behind to be play-toys for the perverse amusement of giant flamingoes?”
No?
Just me?