Korrektiv Dream

I had this dream last night: I’m staying at a lodge or country inn somewhere. Bunk beds. Quin is there. The rest of the Korrektiv gang, with spouses, children, etc., are somewhere nearby. The scene changes. We’re going to mass and it’s a lesser-major feast day. Pentecost or something. It seems we are in Walla Walla now and the location of the church feels like that of St. Paul’s Episcopal (but it’s Catholic) and the church feels like some other church I’ve been in, or possibly only dreamed about, in the past. The altar is in the middle, surrounded by sections of pews arranged around it at right angles. It’s crowded. I’ve got my wife and kids and a passel of others including twin boys (possibly twin, possibly not, it doesn’t matter) reminiscent of the twins on “Suite Life on Deck.” The boys are perhaps thirteen or fourteen. They’re acting out, horsing around, causing a commotion. After a couple of minutes, I lose all patience and grab one of them roughly by the lapels, whisper threats, cause an even more embarrassing scene. Big Jon Bully and his entourage show up and settle into a pew on the other side of the altar. My youngest daughter sees them and excitedly scrambles over, right through the middle of the altar servers and other official sacramental personnel making their preparations for Mass to begin. It begins. I wake up.

Speak Your Mind