I Have A Dream

I had a very strange dream a few nights ago. This dream involved werewolves, unsurprising considering I was reading "The Wereling," which is a terrible book that I will hit you in a shin with Max's baseball bat very hard if you read. It is unoriginal, boring, badly written, predictably plotted, etc., etc., etc..

In this dream there was a conspiracy of werewolves for world domination. As logically follows, they were beginning at my Junior High School, which, just for the hell of it, I am calling Garnier Junior High. (Find the reference, get a muffin, same old prize.) Why they chose to begin here, Erik knows, but they did. Live with it.

So. Here I am in art class, when I come to the realization that (a) I don't take an art class and (b) Mrs. S doesn't teach art, she teaches English. That was when I realized something was off. Naturally, I came to the realization that they were all werewolves. So I ran out of the classroom to find Max, who might know what was going on.

On the way out, I saw my cousin's boat sitting in the harbor next to the library, with the flag of the Jester family atop it.

Erika: We don't have cousins named the Jesters, they don't have a boat, and they don't fly a flag. Also, why is there a harbor at school?

Ely: What she said, only perkier with squealing involved.

Ahem! As I was saying! My cousins worked as clowns, for some reason, and one of them was a baton with a jester hat on it. Why I am related to a baton has yet to be determined. There is no family resemblance. So I see them and I wave, and then move on to find Max.

I found him sitting on a bench, apparently cutting class. He has a notebook in his hand, and appeared to be drawing up a political agenda. This would have been okay, except he was fanged and slavering, a little like a werewolf. He, in fact, was a werewolf. Not good. Ben was sitting next to him, and was, as we can only expect from Ben, designing a logo for the werewolf conspiracy.

Instead of just attacking me like proper werewolves, they decided to talk very rationally to me. Now, since Ben has more sense than Max and I put together, except for when he starts in on the maniacal laughter, I was thinking about joining them. Then I saw the Diet Coke bottle sitting by Max, came to the completely irrational conclusion that Ben had been brainwashed with a bottle of Diet Coke, and ran away screaming.

Mrs. S burst from around a corner, slavering, as a werewolf, and began to chase me. I ran. She chased. Ben and Max got up to help her. Max wouldn't drop the political agenda or Diet Coke, though, and that gave me an advantage. I jumped onto the Jester family boat, and attempted to convince them that the werewolves were evil. They - er - didn't listen, and the baton one went over to the other side. I, shreiking, was dragged off the boat. It is hard to be Kat.

I actually forget how it all ended, because then I woke up, only to have another dream. I was in a dark room in the dream. This is quite ordinary for me. I often dream of dark rooms. Then Micheal Crawford walked in. This is where I should have realized I was dreaming, because I did not (a) attack him in a fit of fangirlyness (b) attempted to steal the fedora that he was, of course, wearing, or (c) squeal and faint. But I didn't.

"'Twas brillig," said Micheal Crawford, "and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe, all mimsy were the borogroves, and the mome raths outgrabe."

"What?!?" I spluttered, dropping a lemon that I had not been holding until then and was now holding for, I suppose, the purpose of having something to drop.

"It 'TWAS brillig! The slithy toves did -"

"But what do you mean?"

"I've no idea. I'm merely a fig of your imagination."

"A fig?" I asked, blanching. I hate figs passionately. Especially the mozzarella stuffed sort.

"Yes." Micheal said, an echo effect began, and he disappeared in a swirl of color.
I went back to the notebook, and wrote a poem that topped Poe for literary devices and Dickonson for eloquence. When I woke up, I'd completely forgotten it. So I wrote another one and said it was that one.

I remain, gentlemen, your faithful and obedient servant,

J.G.