All in All, I Guess It Was Good Pizza
Last night I dreamt of evil. Not the normal running/chasing sort of evil that usually appears in dreams. I dreamt of two superimposed realities. It was sort of like taking on and off special filtered glasses, and I could see that seemingly innocent, or at least innocuous, people were actually evil, demonic in fact. And they were everywhere, and I could not tell which reality was true. I woke up terrified, and I had to go to the bathroom but I did not want to leave the safety of my bed; to leave my room and step out into the dark hallway. I did though, because, you know, I am not six years old.
Then I went back to sleep and dreamt of some kind of business complex with a tower. Someone was trying to pull a heist of some sort. (By “someone” of course I mean myself and Bart, possibly also Homer, Simpson.) We were hiding on some kind of balcony or platform overlooking a room, and threw some kind of special light bulbs down onto the floor, in order to distract my father who was working in the room below. Then I jumped into a five story tall, wooden, spiraling escape slide.
Whatever. Let’s get to the good part.
Some (unspecified) uncle of mine was going to be getting married to a woman who happened to have a famous relative. Neither of them is really important, other than to set up a context for my meeting with one Lady Gaga, who was soon to be my step-niece or cousin-in-law or whatever. Now, I do not know about you, but I personally know exactly two things about the Lady Gaga: that she consistently wears the strangest outfits imaginable, and that you can not read her poker face. So my slumbering mind had to invent some details. I met Miss Gaga, appropriately enough, at the Y Circus. In my dream, she was a 14 year old girl. [And if I may be so bold as to speculate just one more thing about the real life Lady Gaga, I am almost positive that she is older than 14.] She had pink hair and whatever your definition for “too much” makeup for a 14 year old, she wore more than that. She did seem like a sweet young lady, although it was almost impossible to talk to her because she went everywhere with an entourage of four or five other girls (handmaidens perhaps?) and an older matronly woman as a chaperone. Also, she had magic confetti given to her by a wizard that was the source of all of her powers. I seemed to be the only one around who thought that this was friggin’ insane probably not true. Later though, on the tour bus ride to I-have-no-idea-where, the chaperone pulled me aside and politely but firmly informed me that, silly as it may be, under no circumstances was I to publicly criticize the magic confetti. Pretty sure the Lady and her followers all believed in it though.