So it occurs to me that I, you know, own this blog, and so I can write about things, right?  And you have to read them.  Okay, don’t challenge my deeply-held delusions.

ANYWAY:  I had this dream in which I was in a parking lot near a very small town and suddenly this bus that was there, not moving, flipped over.  Inside the bus was a guy, but I couldn’t assess how injured he might be, and I discovered that I had no cell phone.

I ran back to the town and suddenly this dream became that one where you really have to make a phone call and for some reason you can’t.  (Please tell me other people have this dream;  I have it all the time.) I kept dialing 119 instead of 911, or the line was messed up, or someone wouldn’t get off the phone, etc.  It was very frustrating.

Finally I realized I could just walk to the tiny town’s police station and tell them about the accident, so I did.  The cop assured me they’d known about the accident for half an hour.  Unfortunately, the bus driver had died, but they knew it wasn’t my fault.  To demonstrate this, they gave me a copy of his death certificate.

And y’all?  That death certificate was riddled with typos.

I cannot, at this moment, remember a single one of those typos.  But I do remember what dream-me thought in that moment.  I thought, “Whoa, that is so going up on Red Pen Brigade tomorrow.”

So see?  I love y’all, even when I’m unconscious!