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Fear and Clothing
Writing about your dreams is a little like writing about your cat. Nobody is very interested. Since I have already ignored the cat caveat (just once, though), I might as well go ahead and tell you about my weird dream.

I am not going to relate a wild, disjointed adventure featuring all kinds of creatures and celebrities. Those kinds of dreams can never be adequately conveyed in the waking world. That’s one of the reasons they are boring to hear about. We all enjoy those kinds of grand scale, all-star events, but they just don’t travel very well outside our own subconscious. No, this dream was pretty simple, really. It was the naked dream. That got your attention, didn’t it?

Anyway, you know the one — you’re out in public somewhere, and all of a sudden, you discover that you are completely naked. Not a stitch of clothing, and people are looking at you with alarm. They are too nice to say anything, it seems, but the looks on their faces are quite telling.

I hadn’t had one of these in a while, but my reaction is always the same: brazen it out, pretend that everything is okay. No need to be concerned, folks, I’m naked on purpose. See how casually I’m acting?

I wasn’t exactly sure what meaning such dreams have, so I googled “naked dream” just to see what the head doctors have to say about it. Well, it turns out I am a sniveling coward with a persona shot through with crippling insecurities. Also, I am likely hiding some hideous secret that would repel anyone who found out. Of course, I already knew all that, but it is kind of sobering to have it confirmed by a panel of experts.

This might be the point at which you would ask, “Okay, he was naked and embarrassed. So what? Kinda funny, but now I’m bored again.” To which I reply, “Please, bear with me. I haven’t gotten to the surprise ending yet.”

In this naked dream, I wasn’t completely without camouflage. Apparently, I had been out shopping in my dream when the nakedness struck, because I was carrying a shopping bag. That is strictly a waking world deduction, of course, because dreams don’t usually make sense in the way we’re used to. And yet, it was sensibleness that made this dream so remarkable. If you don’t count the inexplicable attack of nudity itself, the rest of the nightmare actually made sense. In spite of my embarrassment, I took careful stock of my situation and settled on the best course of action.

Buy some pants! Right? If you need pants but you don’t have any, that is what you do. So I walked into a men’s store (in a dream, it’s right there in front of you). The guy behind the counter immediately knew what I was looking for. He didn’t ask why I was naked (too polite, I’m thinking), though he did shoot me a suspicious look.

I found a nice pair of blue denims. They looked as though they might be meant for a younger man, but they were 36/32…and they were on sale! Unfortunately, that’s where the dream ended, so I still wasn’t sure if the fit and style were quite right. But that is okay. The point here is that I had not panicked. I had confronted my problem and solved it — quickly, confidently, and in a flattering color!

Indeed, I am quite proud of myself. I may still be a craven weakling with a terrible secret, but I’m also a capable, can-do guy. In my dreams, at least.
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Trump supporters are people who know what they believe.
~ JC, Bonny Doon