So in my dream last night, this dude I half-knew from grade school for some reason was staying with me for a couple of days. Let’s call him Michael H. I wasn’t super friends with him back then, but it was basically the consensus around Birch Elementary that he was one of the funniest guys in our class. Always joking around, always laughing. Bottom line: Michael H. was just a funny guy, and chances were, some day he was gonna use that sense of humor, by golly, and rake in the dough.

But in my dream, grown-up Michael H. was not the same. Somehow I had the foreknowledge that not long before, Michael H. got into some kind of accident, probably related to a car, masks1.jpgbut my dream wasn’t specific. And he hit his head and now was a lot slower, clumsy and completely unfunny. Wow. He didn’t tell jokes anymore, he just looked at you uncomfortably, as if he could feel the disappointment in your eyes, “Oh man Michael H. used to be such a gas,” “What a waste,” “He could have written for MadTV,” etc.

And it was really awkward having him around, especially after he sat on my computer, but the dream quickly started to evaporate not too long after that, and I woke up quasi-disturbed, thoughful, yargh.

On a lighter note, I’ve been really liking the word “yargh” lately. It’s not quite argh, which has that dangerous pirate connotation, and certainly not yay, which is just too poofy for me. Yep. Yargh, I’m pretty darn sure, is a winner.


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