I have no doubt that my old pal Kirk Dabney can put on his coat of many colors and interpret these, but I had two equally strange, and apparently unrelated dreams last night.
In the first one, three of my former coworkers and I were somewhere near Brenham at the home of a man who owned a brewery. We were there for a business-related dinner, but never got around to eating because he kept urging us to sample his latest brews.
Also present were the brewer’s wife, three grown sons and two daughters. The youngest son was a drug addict and the younger daughter was sweet but seriously mentally challenged. Somewhere in her late teens, this girl was the baby of the family and they were all fiercely protective of her. I scored major points with the brewer when I was able to make her laugh.
Our hosts were gracious, everyone was friendly, and we all were having a good time, but even my dream self kept wondering why they were hosting four copier repairmen. I (my dream self) also had a strong sense of deja vu – I knew that I had been there and done that all before – I just didn’t know why.
The other dream was a bit more straightforward.
I was back in the Army and I and two other guys were delivering a Zodiac inflatable boat to a National Guard unit near Brownsville. When we got there, the Guard Colonel commandeered the truck and trailer we had used to haul it there. We were still trying to figure out what to do about that, and how to get ourselves back to Ft. Hood when I woke up.
One more point for what it’s worth – the brewer in my first dream made some really great beer. My favorite, a dark ale, was so wonderful that I can almost taste it now.
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