First off let me say that I’m not making any of this up. Not a word. The other night I had a really strange dream. I don’t normally remember my dreams this vividly but I did remember this one. And, boy, was it ever a doozie!
I, my wife and Mrs. C's Asian bff, Sue-Li, went to an outdoor costume party. I was dressed as a thugged-out gangsta (HOLLA!), Mrs. C was a rich socialite (I didn't even know they provided chiwawas for your handbags with the costumes) and Sue-Li was a hillbilly. As you could see, we all matched perfectly.
We got to the party but before it even got into full swing, it ended up being raided by an army of angry, man-sized bees who apparently had decided to declare war on mankind. It seemed the grounds where the party was being held was picked as the site for their forward base. (Who coordinates these things?! I hate when events clash like that.)
Anyway, I went over to the bees’ main tent (Why not a hive? I don’t know) and attempted negotiation with the bees (Because... who else is gonna do it?). But they weren’t having any of it. Orders were signed-off, funds were committed and such. It was simply too late to turn back now. As it turned out, staging a war on mankind proved a logistical nightmare and they were terribly disorganized (Go figure!). Before I could object I was quickly ushered out of their tent so they could get back to work. As I rejoined the others we could see trucks with large chemical-filled tankers hitched, rolling in. It seemed a lot more bug spray than they really needed, if you ask me.
The humans were more organized. Hands down.
It was at that point that we decided the party was probably going to be lame. So we left.
As we were leaving, I noticed a strange, tricked-out bus – custom chrome rims and all – parked on the other side of the road. We walked towards it and standing in front of it was none other than Tupac Shakur. The bus was apparently his and he was looking very smug and proud of himself. Mr. Shakur invited us to sit on the curb and “conversate” with him. My wife wanted a closer look at the bus so Sue-Li and I went over to where he had just sat down. Tupac complimented Sue-Li on her hillbilly costume. He didn’t notice mine, which made me kinda sad. But then he shared a pack of very tasty tortilla chips with me so it was all good.
It soon became obvious that Tupac was enamored in Sue-Li and he asked me if we were a couple. In response, I did that head-point-whateverit’scalled-gesture to Mrs. C over by the bus. The way she looked in her long, sequined dress with flawless hair and makeup, it was my turn to look smug.
Tupac: My dawg!!!
We fistbumped. It was awesome.
The dream more or less ended with Tupac letting me be his wingman as he then tried to woo hillbilly Sue-Li. She, as it happens, was not opposed to dating a rap superstar. Even if he is dead.
I’ve never been good at figuring out the meanings of dreams. This one has leaves me with two lingering questions:
- Who is Sue-Li? She doesn’t exist in real life. My wife doesn’t have any Asian girlfriends (Not that she’s got anything against them, she just never had the opportunity, I guess).
- Why did I wake up with the taste of tortilla chips on my breath?