"License and Revelation, Please"


As my head bumped rhythmically on the upper rib cage inside the giraffe the porter returned to reexamine my ticket.  A ticket like I’d never seen before, made from turtle phlegm and burlap, and inscribed in gold leaf with my destination printed boldly on the front...


                                            
  


For hours we navigated the porch, making towards the lemonade pitcher, as flocks of khaki napkins did their level best to delay our progress.  Just when it seemed we would reach the tray that held our long sought after refreshment a former boss and my dead uncle began a tug-of-war with the handle.  Attempting to squelch the argument, troops of monkeys scampered across the roof, sirens blaring.  Awful sirens that made noises like Little Richard performing “Tutti Frutti”.

As I reached to silence the alarm I slowly came to the realization that dreaming is a little like riding in a luxury car with your 13-year-old nephew behind the wheel.

You have no control over where you’re going, but it’s bound to be, at the very least, an interesting trip.






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