I Wish I Could Say I Had Been Smoking Something

Unfortunately, this was a completely sober dream.

I remember making the decision to go back to Yemen to see Yusra for her wedding and abandoning all of my life here in the US. It was quite a lovely feeling, actually. The abandoning part. So, I got to Yemen and I was staying in Yusra's house which looked like it could have been part of Salisbury Cathedral. Except a bit more crumbly. Anyway, a con and young Jeezy were sitting in the mafraj trying to take it easy and making sure that everyone knew it wasn't a rap song, it was their life.

Then Yusra's mother came in and she wasn't very Yemeni. In fact, she was very British and looked a lot like a very aged Prof. McGonagal from the Harry Potter movies. She had a big foofy black hat on and generally looked like she was in mourning. She was also stroking a foul tempered long-haired white cat. She kept mumblig incoherently, and I was wondering why there had been such a problem with Yusra marrying a foreigner when her own mother was a foreigner.

I had been about to ask her about that very issue when I was grabbed from behind and squished in a crushing hug. I turned around to see Cowboy and immediately dragged him to another room for heavy petting. Our bliss was cut short and we were called back to the mafraj by Yusra's grumpy father. That was when I noticed Cowboy was wearing my favorite black velvet dress. We were supposed to be listening to whatever was being said in the room, but he kept hiking up his skirt and showing off his white cotton panties. It was very cute and I couldn't resist reaching over and snapping the waistband for some reason.

At some point Nurik had arrived and started giggling uncontrollably at the panty-snapping thing. He kept making the sign of a heart with his hands as he had done when he was first trying to cummunicate to me that Cowboy liked me.

Then we were flying over Kyrgyzstan and email from my parents kept popping out of the air. They couldn't reach me at the house in Aurora so they wanted to know where I was. I had completely forgotten to tell them I had left, and I was dreading having to do so, but I also really didn't care.

Anyway, as were flying we kept looking down at the ground, and it was half ground, half map and these strange spade-shaped castles kept popping out of the ground. They looking like they were made from pastillage and pulled sugar. We were about to go look at them when my alarm went off.

Ever since then I've been fighting the urge to go up to white people (yes I know, I'm also a white people) and ask if they'll shizzle my nizzle. I think it goes back to the Young Jeezy part of the dream (which was more involved thatn I wrote about, but I liked the velvet dress part better). And before anyone takes issue with my improper use of ebonics, I would like to point out that I am well aware that the shizzle nizzle* is not in any way a verb. It just sounds more fun when it is turned into one.

*It is instead a declaration of agreement between two members of the African American ethnic group