When Fantasy is Foiled by Reality
In my dreams there are a number of fantasies. Hitting the game winning homerun in the seventh game of the World Series or providing the game winning shot for the Lakers are some of the more basic ones.
And then there are the more risque, the fantasies of unbridled passion and lust. It is a cavalcade of carnal knowledge and lust. It is that place in which women swoon over me and men pledge to serve me, to see that the castle and kingdom are kept safe from harm.
One particular version of this places me on a tropical island. I am shipwrecked with beautiful women who insist on discussing religion with me only their version of learning the bible requires a hands on approach.
Today I lived a slightly different version of that and the dream turned from fantasy into a nightmare. If you are squeamish or not interested in personal details now would be the time to get some milk and cookies or you can always search my archives.
This morning I was rudely interrupted by my alarm clock. I was not pleased to be awoken and torn away from my fabulous ocean liner the Jack’s Shack 3 where I was telling the Donald how to do business but reality begged to gain my attention.
So I wandered over to take care of my morning business and found out that the boys in the nether regions had taken lessons from their Socialist European cousins and gone on strike. There would be no draining the swamp this morning. Today I would learn that the engineers had built a dam that was virtually unbreakable. If the Titanic had my guys that iceberg would have been nothing but ice cubes and no one named Goldberg would ever have to suffer through bad jokes in which they were accused of sinking the famed ship.
The central office sent a stern letter to the workers insisting that they report for duty but the union held fast emphatically demonstrating that they were in control of the family jewels. And like many men I considered my options, one of which was to crawl up into a fetal position and cry like a baby.
In fact I tried but the bastards down below had done such a fine job I wasn’t able to get comfortable and I opted to send out for reinforcements. I asked the Kaiser of Permanente, implored that the good Kaiser send aid as soon as possible and thankfully my request was heeded.
A short time later I found myself lying on a table. A hospital gown was casually draped over me and three women were doing what they needed to do to mediate. Arbitration wasn’t going all that well and I found the experience to be less than fulfilling. As I said in the fantasy the three women are beautiful, just stunning and madly in love with me.
Instead my three were very attractive to their loved ones but this attraction did not translate over to me. Not even an inkling and I have to admit that for the most part this was a good thing because rising to the occasion would have made me far more uncomfortable.
As a child you cannot wait to grow older but there are some advantages to aging that I would gladly send back to the kitchen and let someone else enjoy.