The Place for Baby Boomers to Share Memories
Charles Dickens visited me in my dreams last night.
Dickens: “hey, kid, I have an idea for one of your blog posts.”
Me: “uh, aren’t you, like, dead?”
Dickens: “yeah so what?No one is going to believe that you really dreamed this anyway.”
Me: “okay, so wazzup?” Continue reading “A Tale of Two Countries”
There is a time and a place for everyone. My time is between four and five o’clock in the morning. I’ve found that sometimes a good whopper of a dream can put me into an interesting situation. Take, for example, this nocturnal sleep-induced encounter I recently had:
I approach a room with a sign on the door that reads ‘Growth’. I enter in and see that there is a fellow sitting at a desk reading a book. A nameplate reads: H. Allen Smith. I say to him, “Mr. Smith, or should I call you H?” He looks up from the book and gives me a nasty sneer and says, “you can call me Henry.”
So, trying to be cute I begin again, “okay, Hank. Is this the room for growth? If so, I’d like to add a few inches to my height.”
Continue reading “Room Service”