My Garth Brooks Nightmare

I woke up at three thirty this morning in a dead panic.  I had this dream, this totally vivid dream that I was at a bar playing darts with Garth Brooks and, to throw my concentration off, he’d turn away from me, kind of spread his feet apart, and let his beer trickle onto the floor and every time, I’d be thinking, Oh my god, he’s peeing right here on the floor of the bar, and I’d miss my shot.

And then, I remember that I’m having a Tiny Cat Pants scavenger hunt for your kids out at the Opryland Hotel.  But I can’t remember if it’s that night and I’ve missed it or the next night.  So I rush over there and I find the room where we’re supposed to have the hunt, and I have missed it and instead they had to fly in some guy who tells kids about Jesus in a "fun, action-packed" way.  And I’m totally embarrassed and humiliated and so I keep going back to the front desk to ask them to check again about the date, as if there’s some chance that the whole world has gotten it wrong.  But no.

And, they don’t have a room for me.

So, I have to go to some chic pseudo-Japanese style boutique hotel (which doesn’t exist in real life, but maybe should) and in my room is a bunch of stuff still left from the people who had the room before me, but I’m too tired and embarrassed to call the front desk and get it moved.

And that’s when I woke up.