Yesterday morning began with one of the more surreal dreams I’ve had in a while. Specifically, that someone was hosting their wedding reception in my living room. (Which is, I can assure you, large enough to comfortably hold maybe six people.) This was taking place at roughly 6:30 in the morning. And whoever was holding the reception had decided to do this without asking me. All I wanted to do in this was take a shower — but to do that would have involved passing through a well-dressed, very fancy crowd of people wearing, you know, the clothing I’d slept in the night before. So instead, I lay in bed, unwilling to commit some sort of socially awkward faux pas.
There’s a metaphor here — or perhaps a subconscious cry for help — but I haven’t the slightest idea what it might be.
Then again, sometimes a cigar is nothing but a cigar.