So let me tell you about this dream I had last night. I was selected by the president of the club where I play golf to take Martha Stewart on a tour of the course. For some reason we made this tour at night, and it looked more like the foothills of the Rockies than my actual course. I suspect this was my subconscious describing the way the course typically plays for me.
We were on foot and I had to carry a lot of Martha’s stuff, which made it a long hike. Since it was dark, Martha didn’t really seem overly impressed with the vistas, but we happened to come up behind the 11th green just at sunrise and it was spectacular.
We went up to the clubhouse to have breakfast. Martha asked me to open the big book she had me lugging along, which was a detailed profile of every person she had ever met. She was sure she’d been to this club before and dined with a man named Fred. I was able to find the profile, and Fred turned out to be this guy I used to work with when I lived in Ohio. He had morphed from a 280 pound, bearded, tattooed, member of the United Steel Worker's Union, into a pink and green bedecked, boat-shoe wearing, über-clubbie.
At this point, Fred showed up for the meal, which had turned into a dinner with lots of wine. Martha then suggested that I come home with her because the book was too heavy for her to carry. I got nervous. (I know where this part of the dream came from. Dinah Shore had a thing for a guy for whom I used to work, and she was always calling his hotel room late at night asking him to come to her room to “help her” with something. Very creepy.)
Anyway, when I hesitated, Fred jumped in and offered his assistance, which seemed to be just fine with Martha.
They left together. I went out and played 18 with Bernie Kozar.