November 22, 2005


It’s 5:15am. I can’t sleep. I had a dream last night that I was stuck in a very small, tight underground passageway. About two feet wide and two feet tall, maybe ten feet long. I’m crouched down on the far end of it away from the entrance, when somebody throws in a live hand grenade. The grenade bounces down the passageway and lands on my lap.

And here’s the thing – I’m sitting there with a live hand grenade on my life, ready to blow, with time running out and the escape a mere 10 feet away from me, and my first reaction is to tell a joke. Before I died, I wanted to tell a joke.

I don’t remember what it was, but dang-gummit, it sure was funny.

And then I woke up right before I got blown to pieces.

I’m not quite sure what it all means, but I’m guessing it’s something to do with feeling trapped or forcing myself into corners or thinking that any escape has danger in its path.

Or maybe I just like a good joke.