I had the weirdest dream last night.

I’m not sure how it started, but some how I was being ‘thrown’ around the desert. I never hurt myself to land, but I never knew where I was. One of the last times I landed outside a mansion placed in seclusion out in this desert. Outside was a tour bus, inside was a Rascal Flatts secret show. I can’t even tell you what this band sounds like, and the only reason I know it was them was because the crowd of Amish women off on Rumspringa were cheering the bands title. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t actually the members of the band performing, because I don’t know what they look like. No less I found the owner of the home, and had to explain how lost I was. There was a long exchange of conversation which I cannot recall. Eventually I managed to convince the woman I had been talking with to allow me a tool to help me home. She insisted it be a map that she had printed off for me, but seeing as I didn’t know North from South and my dream state self didn’t think about using the sun for direction, I managed to get a compass as well. While talking I managed to break the compass while disassembling it to make it more compact, so I just pocketed another one I had seen on the woman’s tool bench.

Now the dream skips forward. I’m pretty sure I woke up a little bit.

I’m home in Stirling, it’s winter, and my Mother and her fiancee Stan are watching a video of my on my helicopter hang glider. She is complaining about how irresponsible I am for taking out the tree branches and high wires along the road. She was also trying to move Stan along as they apparently had a wedding to attend. The funny part was that Stan was in a Tuxedo standing at the door, and my Mother was in her bathrobe with her hair wrapped in a towel. I should also note that the small amount of the video I saw was could be described as cinematic excellence. I left my house to go ‘ride’ my helicopter hang glider and I can only remember the handles of the machine. The only connection between the vehicle and my person was two small grips that I literally hang by my hands from. No seat, no restraints, nothing. If I pulled up as if to do a chin-up- the aircraft would climb. If I let off- the craft would descend. While out I crashed a few times, but never hurt myself. I’d hit poles, take out wires, and in the end I’d carry on. A police officer caught me flying and chased me in his cruiser. When he caught up he was dressed casually, but played very stern. I was flying on my own property so I knew I wasn’t in the wrong. He simply asked to speak to my parents. While walking to my house unfortunately- I woke up.