Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Crazy dreams, man. Crazy dreams.


I had a dream last night that Aaron Rodgers (the quarterback for the Green Bay Packers) and I were in a war together.  People were fighting all around us and we were using weapons like machine guns and hand grenades.  At one point, the conflict was taking place in the parking lot of the old Drug Town in Newton where I grew up. We were huddled between rusted out cars that hadn’t been driven in ages, with enemy forces all around us, feverishly planning our escape.  We needed to make our way diagonally across the main street in Newton, past the old gas station, and over to the Hy-Vee grocery store.

There were people all around us and Aaron was irritated because a blonde woman kept trying to snuggle up against him while he was trying to clean his machine gun and talk to me about strategy. She disappeared in a huff, outraged at his rebuff, and we planned our escape to the neutral ground across the street.

I’m not sure if we ever made it to the Hy-Vee, but at one point, Aaron joined sides with the enemy and I was left to fend for myself.  How could my beloved #12 do that to me?  The war continued and I moved up the ranks of the military and eventually ended up in a really cool apartment in Manhattan.  It was huge, circular, lined with windows that showed the sparkling lights of New York City below, and decorated with sleek, modern furniture and appliances.  The apartment was like something you’d see on a Spiderman movie.  It was there that my forces won the last battle of the war (with shockingly little damage to the tricked out apartment) and the victors met over drinks and tiny little cakes and sandwiches to discuss future plans.

During this victory planning session, a bruised and injured Aaron Rodgers came back to see me, explaining that he had defected to the other side to gain intelligence on their plans, and it was clear that he was instrumental in our victory.  He pled his case, and I was instantly on his side, but the other victors would not believe him; instead, he was branded a traitor and a high price was placed on his head.

Naturally, this is when four thugs from down the street came into the apartment wearing ski masks and carrying clubs, threatening to steal things from the beautiful apartment and leave us beaten and battered.  The rest of the victory team fled. Instead of allowing the robbery to happen, we negotiated with the thugs and agreed to let them sublet the fabulous NY apartment from me while Aaron and I went to live in London while his name was cleared.

What?  It could happen…

3 comments:

Beth said...

If ever I find myself in a war, I just hope there's a nearby Hy-Vee.

Travis Erwin said...

Meanwhile Brett Favre returned from his shallow grave as a zombie war victim and kept trying to convince the world he could still fight.

Anonymous said...

Are you sure the blonde woman that wanted to snuggle wasn't Clay? -- Abby