The dream went down like this:
It was the 4th of July Gay Weasels for Uncle Sam Parade, I was the only human there, and for some reason, there was also a real live teddy bear. It wasn’t much of a parade as all the weasels only had one float, but they had a cannon on it that shot red white and blue glitter into the crowd.
Let me tell you, seeing go-go dancing weasels is really strange. The float just kept going back-and-forth, up-and-down the street for about 20 minutes while they played lots of Donna Summer disco.
There was also a group in the crowd calling themselves ‘Gay Ferrets For Sailors’, and they were all dressed in Sailor Moon outfits.
It then started to rain, and the parade disbanded, and they all went into their underground hovels except for me because I couldn’t fit. So I was just standing out in the rain, but it was a warm rain so I did no mind.
And then suddenly for no reason, I was at Mount Rushmore where there was a heated political debate on whether they should take down the president’s faces and replace them with American Indians. And then somebody started to politicize the term ‘American Indian’ and said we should be calling them ‘Native Americans’. Then somebody else said that was politically incorrect and that should be called ‘Indigenous Occupants’. It was at that point that I walked away from the conversation and for some reason, the Grand Canyon was only a couple hundred feet for Mount Rushmore, so I took in the view.
Then I heard music playing, and it was Shirley Temple singing ‘On The Good Ship Lollipop’ while two people in business suits showed up and started to do calculations on exactly how many ping-pong balls it would take to fill the Grand Canyon. One of them was on a cell phone trying to convince an investor that it would be an economically viable thing to do. I told them they were bonkers, and one of them turned to me and said: “You call us bonkers? You’re the one who had a dream about gay weasels in a parade”, and then I woke up.
copyright 2016
