I had the weirdest dream last night.  That I remember it in such detail is clearly a sign that you all need to know more about my crazy brain.

Scene 1.  My girlfriends Beverly and Ryca (neither of whom live in Las Vegas) went to the Texas Station Casino (coincidentally the location of the haunted house I went to last night IRL).  We went in to a bar/restaurant there – it was nice and dark and loungey.  One of the girls noted that Barack Obama was going to be in attendance.  At the bar, at the off-strip casino.  The President.

There he was, in the corner!  There was a line about 10 people long of people wanting to talk to him; we queued up.  Michelle was there too, holding one of her daughters, but for some reason they were standing still, facing away from me the whole time.  Fast forward, and we got to the front of the line, just in time for the President to say that he had to wrap up the meet & greet so he could get to his meeting.  He shook our hands, then said, why don’t you go talk to ______?  I don’t remember the name, but in my dream he was obviously some kind of pro baseball player.  Obama pointed to indicate the guy, sitting alone at a table in the corner.  None of us girls were interested in something as silly as sports, so we left (I think we started walking away as Obama was still talking to us).  BTW, Obama was impossibly handsome and charming in this dream.

Scene 2.  I don’t know where Beverly went, but Ryca and I were in the parking garage getting ready to leave, and we walked up to my car (which, IRL, I just spent nearly $2000 on fixing everything that was wrong).  We both got in the car, but Ryca left the passenger door open, since we were just chatting for a minute before we said goodbye and she walked to her own car.  I have no idea what we talked about.

When she got up and closed the door behind her, her coat got caught in the door.  Rather than opening the door again like a normal person, she just tugged on her jacket until it came loose, BREAKING MY CAR IN THE PROCESS!  Something let loose, and the metal skin of the car (yes, I know this is not how cars are really put together) had come detached from the wood frame underneath.  I could still drive it, but man – how much was that going to cost??

The parking lot attendant asked if he could give me a ride somewhere.  I declined politely, and drove off into the darkness.

The end.

Hooray for lucid dreams!  Jon, *this* is why I keep hitting snooze in the morning.  Weird crap like this that my brain produces, somewhere between dreaming and consciousness, is like watching a David Lynch film.  I just can’t turn it off :-)