Complicated Dreams

There is no question that some of my medication gives me strange dreams.  I still try to find logic in my dreams, which is kinda silly.  I woke up at 4 this morning, and realized that my dream had zero logic.  

I was in a store with my Dad.  We were with several other people on a road trip.  I walked into part of the store, and stopped in my tracks.  In front of me were different cases of Bell's beer. I grabbed a cart.  I was tossing in cases of Oberon, Two Hearted Ale, Kalamazoo Stout, Double Cream Stout, Expedition, and names I've never seen before.  My dad came back to me and said there was a $50 limit on what I could bring with us. Apparently, we were crossing state lines, and there was some silly rule that should never apply to beer. I didn't believe him. The store owner confirmed the law. I avoided obvious hysterics, and tried to narrow my choices.  I asked if my dad could buy some just to avoid the $50 limit.  Nope.

As if this nightmare wasn't already horrible, the dream veered into the absurd. My sister, Amy, held up a t-shirt for me.  It cost $50. It had David Soul on the front. He was sitting on the red Gran Torino. I walked away from the beer.

David Soul?  Please, I was (still am) a Paul Michael Glaser lovin gal. I was all about Starsky. I loved his hair. His piercing dark eyes (I think they are dark. C'mon, I was young during my obsession). I would have never walked away from Bell's beer for Hutch. Starsky? Possibly. If only I still had my Starsky doll. Sigh.

Analyze.