Around four o'clock this morning, Jonno and I parked my father's butter-yellow 1972 Mustang on the upper floor of a parking garage. I turned around to look for the elevator, and when I turned back, I saw a police officer arresting my boyfriend.
To my surprise (and yours, too, if you know Jonno), he was handling it quite well, chatting and joking with the officer. When I asked Jonno what had happened, he said that the officer had simply asked him how things were going, but when Jonno responded with a quote from Allistair Crowley, the officer knew something was suspicious and searched the car. There he found a couple of stems from a bud my boyfriend had been smoking, and that, ladies and germs, was all she wrote. My boyfriend was in cuffs and I started scrambling for a lawyer.
What struck me as the most odd--aside from Jonno's complacency--was the fact that a New Orleans Police Officer was abel to correctly identify a quote from Mr. Crowley. But before I had time to give it much thought, I awoke to find my boyfriend curled quietly beside me.
Then, at around 5:30, I found myself at my old elementary school, wandering the grounds and enjoying Mayday celebrations with my close personal friend Megan Mullally. We were discussing the school's desperate need for a paint job and the capital campaign they must be running to maintain the building.
I'm dreaming of capital campaigns. I think I've been a fundraiser too long. Any suggestions for new career choices?
Strange Dreams, indeed, Ms. Anderson.
