I have really odd dreams. JF loves to point out how warped I truly am when I describe my dreams to him.
There was the one where everyone was a different shape and color. I was a blue oval, JF was a green oblong, and Offspring was a purple triangle. Maybe I'd just been reading Ray Bradbury's I Sing the Body Electric one too many times. I'm not quite sure.
Then there was the time that I dreamed that he was a kangaroo. I have *no* idea where that came from.
Needless to say, he's no longer surprised at anything that I reveal to him the morning after. He won't be too terribly surprised when he reads this to find out last night's adventure.
I recently read a book about an online pirate role-playing game. Maybe that was the original inspiration. JF has long been a pirate fan -- he was watching "The Curse of the Black Pearl" this morning, as a matter of fact. He has a sword collection, and a black powder pistol. He has the billowy shirt and the knee-high boots. So, it comes as no surprise that that, in this dream, he was a pirate. He'll be a mite distressed to know that he wasn't a pirate of the Jack Sparrow school of piracy, but one a little more...um...flamboyant.
The dream started off normally enough. We woke up in the morning, and went our seperate ways to work. I, for some odd reason, went by his office later in the day. He was dressed in pirate garb, to be sure, but he was no longer in his office. He was in a disco. And, he was dancing. The Hustle, I think. His office was a disco, and he was doing the Hustle. My brain knew that JF would *never* do the Hustle, and therefore shut down.
Now, I can't get the image of my Hustling Pirate of a husband out of my head.