Too Good to pass up

So, after a hectic night at work. I come home, Blog out my frustration at AN, and finally fall into a blissful sleep. It was lovely. However, my dreams. Most of them were my usual, vivid, run of the mill fun ones. The one I am going to describe to you was the standout though. I went to bed thinking still about the ignorance of AN, but ended up dreaming about. . .(drumroll, please)
Visiting the Kaos household. Yes, CK, you were my co-star. It was bizarre. I flew in, apparently, then, even though I HATE driving in town's I am unfamiliar with, and usually refuse to do this, I rented a car to get me to the Kaos Manor. I got there in one piece, don't even remember the drive, or the car. Just that I had lots of luggage for some reason. Your neighborhood did NOT look as I expected, but wait. Thats coming. Up some steps, and the door flew open. There you were, looking like yourself with your new hair cut even (I do like it, btw.) K was in your arms, smiling, looking like herself. Being as she never met me, she was very friendly, observed that she thought we looked similar to each other. (Which, truthfully, we really don't). Then, Mr. K came out. Now, I have never met the mister in person. I couldn't see much of him beyond the mirrored sun glasses that went with the cop uniform he was wearing. Except, uhm, he was in a cop uniform that came with shorts? Yes, shorts. And before my little eyes, K threw on HER mirrored sunglasses, and suddenly, she was dressed just like Daddy, and the two of them were leaving for some father-daughter outing of some sort. Ok. My dream self accepted all this quite easily, and so did your dream self, CK. Away they go with hugs of fare thee well. Then, I examine the neighborhood. It seems you live on a busy, main road, across the street from a strip mall. Yes, I said strip mall. Directly visible to my eye, was an ice cream shop. We discourse on the strip mall, and ice cream shop. You tell me you don't generally patronize that shop, there is a much better one WAAAAAAY down that a way. Its better because the lady who own's it is a hypochondriac. What her health has to do with the ice cream I don't know. But my dream self agree'd with you that it was, indeed better, to buy ice cream from a hypochondriac.
You invite me in, and I enter into a living room that is almost victorian in the amounts of furniture it has in it. I see a couch, lamps, tables, numerous chairs. I point out to you that I like the fact that there are very few corners in this room. It was a rounded room. "Very native american of you" I point out, and describe to you the American Indian museum from the Smithsonian, in DC. (It was built to house no corners. A nice building, actually.). You accept the compliment, and we settle down into two, dark pink, deep seated wing chairs. (PLEASE, for the love of God tell me you don't have pink wing chairs.) I comment that GG must really like these comfortable chairs. Of course, you agree, she did. You are so agreeable!I observe the room, note the nice muted colors, and yet, another wing chair, over near a crackling fireplace. "Must be a nice place to settle in with a book" I think to myself. Man was that room full of furniture.
Sitting there, BS'ing, you tell me about why you don't like having house guests. It seems you're not happy when you wake up, and are worried about your bed head will appear to others. You hope I understand. I tell you that I have indeed made a hotel reservation, because I don't like staying with others, it seems. My reasoning? I might snore, especially if I drink. I gesture down the road a piece, and say I'm going to stay there. At that hotel. (Wonder if its next to the hypochondriac ice cream place?). You say, Great! I know the girl who works at the counter. When you go in, say "Hiya Red". Thats what I call her. Maybe she will give you a discount. I agree to do just that. From there, we begin to discuss a party you hosted for your parents. It was a formal event, people in nice clothing, ect. And, it was a kind of themed event. You had taken the time to tag each guest with the name of someone famous and influential, a person who shared their same first name. The only one we talked about was Matt's, though, because, unbeknownst to you, you gave him the name "Matt Langston Wilder" (a name I have never heard in my life.). In dream world, we discover, Matt Langston Wilder was a cannibal, at one point of his life, and a not so nice man who lived in the Wild Wild West era. Your Dad pointed this out at the party. And the wierd thing? I was having visions of the party as you described it, like I was there. Your Dad was Red Foreman from "That 70's show", and your Mom? I hesitate to even tell. But I have to. She was Barbara Bush. Pearls and all. (As I run away, crying. I like your Mom, I really do!). I ask you if your older half brother was at the party as well, (didn't know you had one of those, did you? Well, our dream selves thought nothing of it.). You say, with relief, that your Dad has finally disowned him, so he is persona non grata at family events. As this conversation winds down, so did the dream. I got up to go to my hotel, which, you were going to lead me to. I assume the 'Hiya Red' did get me a good discount. I'll never know, I woke up, and pondered this dream for a while, thinking, should I blog this? Obviously, I got out of bed, and did just so. As I mention above, it was just too good to pass up.