“The ramblings and grumblings of author Ad Hudler”

Weird Dream #4991W2
Thursday, August 18, 2011

I've had some doosies lately. Here's another that probably won't make the final cut for the memoir in progress:

A strange redneck family takes over my house while I'm gone. I return to find a party raging inside, the revelers smoking and dumping their ashes on the floor, the men peeing on the carpet in the corners of the room. I storm in, screaming: "Get the hell out or I'm calling the cops!" They scatter but return the next day with guns in military trucks to hunt me down. First, they start throwing wet, white cheese curds at me, and just as I think they're going to switch from cheese to guns, I start running. I run and run and run. Suddenly, inexplicably, they transform from foe to friend, and I stop running and return with them to the house for another party. I'm married to some woman who is not Carol, and upon my return ask her to leave. I open the front door. There is a mariachi band playing in the street. Suddenly, the door falls to the ground. I look up and see that it has no hinges – it never had hinges. How could I have missed this? How could I have lived here all those years and missed this? I then notice that all the windows are mere sheets of clear plastic. Everything within, my family's history and identity, is vulnerable. I start panicking, and the men who came to shoot me tell me to drink a beer and relax. I refuse. They insist. I pretend to drink the beer but swallow nothing, as Bill Clinton did with the marijuana.



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