Three days ago . . .
There was this armadillo trying to get in the back door of my parents’ house. Only the screen door was closed, and it’s kind of flimsy, so there really wasn’t much standing in the way of the armadillo.
I was fine with the armadillo coming inside, mostly because I thought it was kind of cute – I’d never seen one before – but then I remembered that it was a gangster / criminal armadillo. In fact, there was an FBI SWAT team outside my house, complete with snipers on the front lawn and a black helicopter hovering above; if the armadillo got inside, there was a very real possibility that it would take hostages.
I watched as the armadillo tried to get through the door, somehow transfixed and unable to run away when . . . I woke up.
Weirdest. dream. ever.
[In reality, that particular door is a sliding glass door. (There isn’t a screen door anywhere in my parents’ house.) There are not, to my knowledge, any armadillos in Utah. My brother asked me what kind of helicopter it was – I’m pretty sure that it was a JetRanger or a LongRanger. At least some parts of my dreams are accurate.]