Or: my subconscious is on crack. Had a very vivid night of dreaming last night. Please do not confuse vivid for "making sense in any way." Here's the lowdown.
First, I was with a group of people who were going to have a private audience with the Pope. So we all file into the room and are sitting ont the floor, and the Pope's all "What should we talk about?" Someone mentions Islam, and how knowledge is a good thing. The Pope says something about how violent Islam is. I comment, "Excuse me, your Holiness, but Islam has far from cornered the market on atrocities." So then the pope gets up and dumps an ornate vial of ashes in my hands, which I just know are the remains of a Holocaust victim. Not cool, pope you creeped me out! The dream kinda fades from there.
Then I dream I steal a bus to go to my grandma and grandpa's house. Which is three miles from where I live, but whatever. Once there, I talk to my grandma, who is wearing a dark suit. I sit on the floor in front of her, hugging her legs. I ask her how grandpa is and she smiles and looks really happy. I ask about Aunt Ruth, and I think she rolled her eyes but also acknowledged she was fine. But I remember at that point knowing she was slipping away again, and that was sad. and I spent the rest of the dream trying to decide if I'd get away with the bus thing or if I should just turn myself in, since who's going to be mad that I used the bus to go see my dead grandma?
No more peyote before bed. Or something.