Dancing Dinosaurs ~ 2/18/2014

I was at a church function in a stone-pillared, gothic-revival style cathedral. It was some sort of fundraiser for the associated catholic elementary school. As our boat skimmed down the stream in a side aisle, I stared bemused at a stage full of Tyrannosaurus rexes dancing to ragtime piano with boaters on their huge heads and canes in their tiny hands. I walked out of the dark cathedral into the late afternoon sun and wandered down curving suburban lanes lined with two story double shotguns. I found myself at a pale blue clapboard house with white trim and a huge fiberglass facade on the upper porch of the Mad magazine kid wearing a gray fedora and a huge, toothy smile.  Basically it was a Marching Owl Band frat house. I spent some time inside helping clean things up and get the rooms ready for furniture to be moved in. When I left, it was dark, and I wandered into a neighborhood of small brick homes, lost and unsure where I was. Suddenly I realized I was being followed, possibly by the dinosaurs, but I'm not sure, and I had to get back where I'd come from, then to the airport as fast as I could. I saw a white horse dappled with black grazing in the tall lush grass of a moonlit field. His bridle was hanging on the wooden fence. I called him over, made friends, put the bridle on, and rode him at a gallop down the streets, taking short cuts through alleyways and jumping small drainage ditches. I made it back to the MOB house and warned them that something was coming, then rode on, over the tracks of a wide rail yard as the sun rose, trying to reach the airport, where I would fly to Europe. But before I got there, I woke up.