My mother and I went to the park to shoot off rockets. While I was parking my bike an eight foot tall Samuel L Jackson was waiting for me. He squealed with delight and kissed my forehead, then he picked me up to swing me around. All the while he kept saying “It’s my best friend!” and my mother was nonplussed.
Then Sam Jackson handed me an envelope. Since I can never read in dreams, Sam had to tell me that the envelope was a summons from our mutual boss and mutual buddy. The boss was having a contest and he wanted me to both take part in and help judge. Next thing I know we are at a cabin with a red kitchen waiting for the boss to arrive. Sam Jackson begins telling me that the boss has a new business and I get inordinately happy. “Did he get to design the logo? His dream in life is to design a logo!”.
The door to the cabin swings open. In strides a creature who is a cross between a goat (in stature) and a donkey body with a buffalo head. A naked baby with the head of Roger Ebert–Pre-cancer–is riding the buffalonkey’s back. I start jumping up and down cackling “It’s the logo!! It’s the logo!!” and then reach across the table to pet the long fur on the buffalonkey’s face.
Baby Roger Ebert yells ” you can’t pet him! He’s a logo!” and then I wake up.
I seriously HATE my dreams.