I woke up this morning convinced that Crayola crayons were invented by Charles P. Crayola. Why? Because I imagined that I'd met Mr. Crayola and he asked me to help him put on a puppet show for children at the combination school/ apartment building/shopping mall I concocted for last night's dream. My friends couldn't believe it and they were envious. And did I mention that they couldn't believe it. But alas, I couldn't find Mr. Crayola again to prove to my friends that I'd met him.
Somehow the dream evolved into something different, something involving a king that could hide himself in the guise of a silver gorilla. And the school/building/mall evolved into a 300 year old New York mansion with a vivid history and secret passages on Park Avenue and Washington Square. That's right. That address doesn't exist. But the world that existed beneath the city in my dream sure did seem real.
Isn't sleeping great?