One way I get into the spirit of the season we’re not actually in is by checking out the best Halloween related website, Pumpkinrot. If I had the money to spare I know I’d have one of his horribly awesome pieces staring down at me, waiting for the moment when my eyes closed for just a second too long… from a lack of sleep, perhaps, or the moment before a sneeze…
Continuing with my bizarre dream theme, which is one I can’t get away from regardless of what I do (medication, no medication, alcohol, no alcohol, going to bed early, at a reasonable time, late, et cetera), my last night’s dream wasn’t quite frightening, just strange. My wife, daughter, and I were on a chairlift at an exaggeratedly large version of the mountains of my hometown, a ski resort in Vermont. We were all dressed for summer weather, but it was perfect skiing weather: snowy, cold, blue-grey skies. Also, we were alone, and saw no one else on the chairlift or on the trails.
We got to the top and they stopped the lift for us to get off, and we were ordered to go buy season passes at an office set up at the very peak of the mountain. How we got to ride up in the first place was never explained. We went inside, and were informed that the season passes were now only $3, instead of the $1099 they usually are. We get our pictures taken with the old Polaroid four-punch setup that hasn’t been used for at least a decade, decade and a half, and soon the hot laminated cards are on breakable chains around our necks.
Back outside, we discover that we now have the latest and greatest equipment laid out for us, so we suit up and ski off. My wife has never skied in her life, and my daughter isn’t even 2 years old yet. The rest of the dream was just us working our way down the slope, but never seeming to get to the bottom, as the mountain appeared to have been growing just as fast as we were descending.
Non sequitur: Reason #1 I hate people my age to my age minus ten years:
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