Unhealthy Snacks

In this week’s newspaper we feature author Bob Love’s book, “Pathfinder” a fine collection of poems, stories and essays that Love has been working on for the past 50 years.

Some of the best stories in the book are from dreams he had through the years, including “Aurora” which we published in this issue.

I wish I had dreams like Bob, but my mind seems to wander in entirely different directions when I’m asleep.

Last night for example, I dreamed I was a potato chip.

You read that right, a potato chip. I am not making this up.

Not only was I potato chip, I was a potato chip doing my damnedest to break out of a museum of unhealthy snacks.

We were on display and when no one was looking I hid under the table and then went for it. Somehow I garnered myself a good stick (what’s a dream without a good stick, anyway?) and started making my way through the doors and other obstacles. I smashed open a couple of glass doors, threatened a few acne-faced attendants and then managed to get out, only to discover they’d unleashed a flock of search birds after me that looked like large parrots.

Then I woke up.

I had to pee.

I’d love to say this is a weird dream for me, but it isn’t. All my dreams seem to cartwheel through the land of the absurd.

Such is life.

——-

I had to smile when former President Donald Trump was indicted last week. Not because of the indictment, but because of where they found some of the documents — in the bathroom.

I could hear the conversation now.

“Melania! Have you seen my nuclear assessment of Uzbekistan?” Trump would yell.

“No dear, check the bathroom,” she’d reply. “I think I saw it under this month’s National Geographic.”

“Oh yep… there it is,” he’d say.

Oh what fun with the Trumps. It seems like everyday things get just a touch more absurd, though I seriously doubt he’s reading National Geographic.

We can always dream, can’t we?