Don't pet the Eagle......

I am probably weird.

Check that.  I am weird.  I have incredibly wild, crazy dreams at night.  I get into situations, predicaments, corners, "OMG, WHAT am I gonna do, HOW am I gonna get outta this, another, fine mess you got me into Stanley? (Victor, you're friends ain't old enough to remember that one.... eh oh well.)

So, be the house 60 degrees, 70 degrees, 80 degrees, mebbe even 40 degrees - I always awaken in a cold sweat, and a sense of THANK GOODNESS that was just a dream.

So.... (Victor, Dr. Bowman, your prof in college who, somehow, actually kinda even allowed you to write for the school paper... might say "Victor, did you notice you started two sentences in a row with "So"?

So what.  I wouldn't have said that to her.  I loved her  But... you know.

So (AYE YAI YAI) I was not at my house (uncomfy), I was laying on a sofa... all of a sudden AN EAGLE lands on my chest.. it's beak right by my left ear... it's body full length up and down atop mine.  (Starry starry night comes to mind.)   Somewhat calmly, whoeverinthehell else is in my dream, calmly says "Don't pet the Eagle."

Ahm, did he like just get here?  I'm envisioning one quick unintended hack from my smoker's cough...  one tummy growl from whatever it was I ate that disagreed with me... an itch somewhere that I could not, would not scratch - because I, outta the corner of my dream, saw two talons dissecting two eyeballs, and flying off with them to Ray County, MO.  (That's the County next to us... hella long way to run, walk, follow.... especially if you're old, you've got an affliction, and, two empty eye sockets.

Back to the first line, and no, it doesn't, didn't start with "SO"........

I am probably weird.  

It, the dream, was an immense situation of tenseness. Canardly.  I canardly move.  I was afraid, whoever in the dream that said "Don't pet the Eagle"... I was afraid, his hound at my feet, "Canardly", named so because he was a mutt and they "Canardly" tell what kinda bloodline he has... would flinch, yap, growl, jump, chase - and, I'd be left with enough deep, deep, talon slashes, they'd be deep enough I could like probably grow a couple tomato plants.

I am probably weird. (Toldya). 

SO.. VICTOR?  Yes?  Is there a point to all this?  The talon you mean? NO.  The whole damn blog.

Yes.  Yes, there is.

It's "Don't pet the Eagle."  As we age, or, at least I've found, as I age - I pick and choose whatintheheck I wanna, where I wanna go, what I wanna eat.... yes, we're still left with 'have to's'.. but, in most nutshells - we pick and choose.

Social media.  The moment I see someone getting crosswise............ Don't pet the Eagle comes to mind.  Wake the hell up, get the hell outta here.  There ain't enough time in a day for ugly, no matter one's age.

Don't pet the Eagle.  WAKE UP.  Enjoy life, put up one's anti-ugly shield.  No time for sergeants. I mean,  no time for that crap.. ugly. Breathe easy, versus holding one's breath in uncomfiness.

Pick and choose. Insteada peck and choose Victor?  Funny haha.  Not.  But yes, you get my drift.

OK, I'm gonna run (walk slowly, afflictedly) to my bed now and take a nap.

Victor, don't pet the Eagle.  Turn the channel. Awaken from that dream. DON'T go if you don't wanna.  Order exactly what you want from the menu... or, grab whatever your heart desires from the buffet line of life (two, if you want).. .but, don't pet the Eagle.

The Eagle flies on Friday. OUCH!  VICTOR!!!! WAKE UP! YOU'RE DREAMING!

Love, Victurd