So my bed is spinning in a tornado and for some strange reason I’m lying in it as though this sort of thing happens everyday. You’d think my pillow, blankets and sheets would fly off along with my naked bod (I don’t wear pajamas–sorry), but NO … everything is intact and defying the laws of physics (except for the tornado–it seems pretty real).
In the back of my mind, I know I must be dreaming. Funny thing: I didn’t pinch myself to be sure. I don’t really believe that would prove anything. Think about it. If I’m asleep, I could pinch myself with my real fingers as opposed to my dream fingers. I would feel pain and think I was awake even though I’m dreaming. But like I said, in the back of my mind I know I must be dreaming–because what’s happening is too weird for reality. Then again, the truth is stranger than fiction.
Is your head spinning yet? Mine is–because I’m lying on a bed that’s spinning in a tornado!
The tornado takes me across the pacific ocean to an island. Not a nice, peaceful island where the tropical birds sing while they perch in palms that sway to the rhythm of the blue-green surf splashing on obsidian rocks and black volcanic sand–then receding to reveal starfish seaweed, and sand crabs that lag behind on the beach. Nope. No such luck.
Instead that tornado drags my sorry bed and ass over an island with an active volcano. The volcano, of course, erupts the instant I fly over it. The force blows the bed and me out of the tornado. (Note: the sheets, blankets and pillow are still intact and perfectly clean despite all that volcanic ash and soot.) The bed and I land on a lava stream flowing down the mountain. So the bed is now a boat on a lava stream. Amazingly, it does not burn. (And yes … the sheets, etc. are still clean.)
The lava stream carries the bed and me to a black, obsidian precipice. The lava spills over and dumps into the sea … and now down goes the bed and me. The impact from the 50-foot drop cause the bed and me to sink below the ocean’s surface. Not to worry. I can somehow breathe underwater (and the sheets. etc. don’t get wet–amazing!). There is one slight problem, however: SHARK!
Imagine grey fins and cold black eyes. Imagine teeth that look like a white, gleaming porcelain bear trap coming straight for my bed. The only thing I can think to do is pull the covers over my head. Oddly enough, that works. I lift the covers just a crack to take a peek–and the shark is gone.
The bed and I float to the surface. (The sheets are still dry and clean.) I see a mermaid lounging on the shore the way mermaids do … laying on her side … propping herself up with her elbow … her flaming hair blowing in the salty breeze. She waves her tail fin at me. Her smile and a couple of other things beckon me (no, not her green eyes).
Unfortunately, I’m stuck out at sea … floating on my bed.
From out of nowhere a dolphin appears on the port side of my bed. From out of nowhere a lariat appears in my hand. As the dolphin swims toward the shore, I throw the rope, and the dolphin grabs it in its snout, then pulls the bed and me to waist-deep water. It then lets go of the rope, swims to the port side of my bed. It raises its head out of the water, looks at me and does its best Flipper impersonation, “Eeeeeh! Eeeeeh!” I think it’s demanding a treat as a reward for pulling me to the beach.
I’m not sure what to do here. It’s not like I have a fish to drop in its mouth … oh wait … I do. A fish just pops into my hand out of the salty air. So I give it to the dolphin. The dolphin’s happy, I’m happy, my bed is happy (and still clean and dry). The dolphin swims away, repeatedly leaping out of the water and diving headfirst as it plows toward a rising sun along a blue-green horizon.
With my hands I paddle my bed to the smooth, tide-washed sand. There she waits for me–the mermaid of my dreams. Yesss!
Then the stupid alarm clock rings!