Sweet dreams aren't made of these

I dream vivid, colorful, action-packed dreams. Generally, they are fun and harmless, and they do well to fill my sleep with entertainment. But like most people, it is indeed a stretch to explain them. This is especially true since just seconds before waking things made so much sense. Additionally, my dreams typically contain a mishmash of nonsensical content that make me, at least, wonder where the heck does this stuff come from? It is as if my conscious self loses its ability to control reality when sleep sets in. At the moment of dozing off, some little green man takes over the controls of my brain and starts to create a movie that cannot be edited, mostly due to the fact that, if it was, it just might make sense. Upon waking, I realize that the dreaming world of non-reality had, unfortunately, not lived up to its claim to explain the secret of life. Instead, I shortly find myself trying to explain to whomever will listen how the sky has a tasteful sticky texture that can be eaten in an emergency or just for dessert. Well, the dream I had the other night was a doozy, and despite all experience that argues to the contrary, I am now going to retell it. And I do insist that you listen closely. In my dream … I lived in a perfectly flat neighborhood on the side of a hill. Things in my yard kept rolling away in the morning, but they would roll back at night -- but differently colored and bumpy. This disturbed me greatly, so I went to the sequoia forest, which was way over in my next-door neighbor's yard. He wasn't home, but his forester was. I asked him something, I'm not sure what. Nonetheless, he smiled reassuringly and, as foresters tend to do, he gave me a leaf. I said, "but …" He stopped me and said, "time's up!" He pulled a rabbit out from his sleeve and a giant blue beetle from his ear, and then he jumped onto a ram, which was strange because I thought my neighbor only had impalas. "Where are you going?" I blurted out. "To the Outback!" he said. I think that's what he said, I mean, he could have said he was going to Tahoe or Tucson for all I can remember. Whatever, he was gone and so were the trees. I forgot that this happens every time there is an eclipse … or an equinox … or a solstice … or when Mercury and Saturn align (or whenever I dream.) Since the forester made an escape, I needed a true explorer. And it just so happened that one lived across the ocean, which in my neighborhood was just across the street. So, I rode some stingrays, because then I wouldn't have to deal with the barracudas who are just too loud for me. The explorer, of course, wasn't there. (Anyone surprised by that?) But you know what was really weird? He actually was there … sort of. He was no longer an explorer, he was an eagle, a really big eagle. (Yes, there is an eagle's nest near my home, so this kinda makes sense!) And he was wearing a sable stole which was made out of a live sable. (That kinda makes sense because I just ordered some animal pelts, and I wished they were still alive.) The eagle didn't talk, but the sable did. He had a Bronx accent and tried to sell me some snakes -- vipers and cobras I believe. I didn't know what to say, so he tried to sell me the darn eagle. Out of the blue, a bronco came up to me and I inadvertently called him a mustang. I apologized, but he said, "Don't worry. It happens all the time. Just be glad you didn't call me a colt!" I laughed and then realized that was not wise. This bronco was not a sport. I changed the subject quickly but found it hard to move my mouth or my legs. (I hate it when this happens in dreams!) Oh, and I forgot what I was looking for in the first place. The bronco looked at me and said, "Hop on! We are going to Denali. I know a much better raptor there, a falcon in fact. He can fix you up." But I just stood there cause my legs still didn't work. Just then a jaguar and cougar appeared and the sight of them healed me right quick. (I somehow learned that they were getting married, and that a roadrunner was performing the ceremony.) I hopped onto the bronco and sat right on a hornet. He didn't sting me, but he joked that we needed to go to Colorado. "Why?" I asked. He said, "Because I can Telluride horses infrequently!" (Regional humor! Is it strange that no one laughed?) So, off to Santa Fe we went. I only thought we were going to Denali for a fleeting moment, then I realized the bronco meant … Oh, no. Am I waking up? I held onto the bronco's mane which felt an awful lot like flannel sheets. I heard the distant twinkling of a skylark and then I saw a lynx which, to give it credit, sounded exactly like my wife. And then she was my wife! She said, "I don't know what a skylark sounds like, but the barred owl is hooting out the window again." "I have got to hear about this crazy dream I just had!" "You can tell me on the way. We have a lot of car shopping to do today!" And, so it goes. Yes, I am actively car shopping. No, this was not a real dream. What it is, however, is a nod to all of the cars and trucks that have names derived from nature. How many did you pick out? And, yes, my evil plan was to have you read this thing twice.