Dear Subconscious Mind,

I'd like to thank you for the flying dream last night. I was driving home through the hills and valleys around Harrisburg on I-83 and was thinking for a good stretch of the trip how cool it would be to be flying over the cityscape in a Cessna instead of occasionally being 100 or 200 feet up overlooking the city line from my Civic. Getting a chance to jump across rooftops Crouching Tiger style was a more than acceptable substitute.

The ass-kicking firefight dream the night before was also pretty cool, although my rational brain has gone and taken all the "fun" out of firearms. My plethora of lawyer, police officer and military friends have helped me realize that there is no "good" firearms scenario that doesn't involve a thin sheet of paper and a concrete backstop on a closed range.

However, I have to take issue with that dream where I had to make out with a friend's ex-boyfriend and meet his family. It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for that bizzare conversation immediately before. Unless I wasn't actually me and it just wasn't apparent, that shit isn't funny. Oh yeah, and if you're reading this and think it's you, relax. It's not. If you think you know who it is, forget it. You don't.

Oh well, such are the perils of living with you, my intuitive rational brain. I'm sure my walk through campus this evening will spark a jubilant trip down memory lane tonight. I'm crossing my fingers for something interesting. Surprise me.

Rob

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