In a dream last night, my roommate and I did not live in Evanston, Ill. We lived in sunny Florida. We did not live, either, on the third floor. Instead, we lived in a high-rise, somewhere in the upper parts. Living in a Florida high-rise as we did, our apartment was far nicer than the one we actually have. (Tracy, for one, would be glad for that.)
But all of this is just to set up why the Bush brothers had the apartment across the elevators from us. One day Amit and I were sitting in our living room with Nameless/Faceless Neighbor, just making conversation. Then there came a knock at the door! I went and answered it, and there were the Bush brothers. Jeb, George W. and another one.
They were chasing a dog around the marble and glass elevator area. Finally, remembering he had rung the doorbell, Jeb looked up and noticed me. “Hey,” he said, “we were wondering, you know, if you all wanted to go out and get something to eat.”
I went back inside to ask Amit and Nameless/Faceless Neighbor if they want to go. Jeb followed me in and went looking for a snack in the kitchen. The conversation went like this:
Me: Jeb Bush wants to know if you all want to go get something to eat.
Amit: The governor? Where is he?
Me: He’s here. He lives in our building apparently.
Neighbor: You mean those Confederate Bushes? Where are they?
Me: Hey, be nice, Jeb’s in the kitchen right now!
This dream was followed by a shorter, less coherent dream that involved winning a 100-disc CD changer as part of a SPJ contest. The song Desperado was involved somehow. That’s the last time I eat Almond Joy Bites right before going to bed.