my own worst enemy

Fr. Goat

Friday, November 11, 2005

I had the weirdest dream this morning while in between alarms. I was at mass and for some reason or another, the priest wasn't there. So I was giving mass. Only I wasn't just reading the part of the priest, I was in full garb. The robes, flowing grace, bald... striking. Okay, not bald, but you get it. Somehow I manage to get the parish through the eucharist and it time to say to the closing prayers. Now any good Catholic knows the prayers are all written out in a book for the priest. So I turn to the acolytes and ask them where the prayer is in the book. They got nothin'. Gotta wing it. Annnnnd I draw a blank. Can't even think of how the mass ends. My mom's out in the congregation just smiling at me like she knows I can pull it off. What is this, an elementary school play? Oh, and for some reason the priest garb includes this shawl-like thing over my shoulders that's so tight I can't move my arms at the shoulder, only the elbows.

Take that and smoke it your pipe, Freud.

Why can't I just have dreams like the one freshman year where the Tones were having a scavenger hunt in a mall and Andrea was my partner and instead of looking for stuff we just made out. Ahh, Andrea. Stupid Pinto, what was he thinking?

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