I had a weird dream.
I was in a dilapidated shack with a bunch of scruffy dudes. It seemed like a standard hunting camp. If you aren’t familiar with a hunting camp, you have clearly never spent time in rural Pennsylvania. It’s a bunch of scruffy dudes in a dilapidated cabin for a long weekend. The beds are wooden cots built into the wall with plywood sheeting as mattresses. Throw down a sleeping bag and you are good to go. You spend the weekend scratching and burping. In the dream, we were cooking some meat and meat-related products with a questionable fuel source. It was all super masculine and perfect until she walked in. It was Taylor Swift. I’m not even a Swiftie. I have no idea why she showed up in this dream. She started bossing everybody around and telling all of the scruffy dudes what to do. The next thing I know, I’m in a side room with Taylor auditioning to be a dancer on her next tour. This dream was so weird. I don’t hunt, spend time at hunting camps, or dance. In case you were wondering, I didn’t get the job as a dancer for Taylor but I did wake up craving some bacon.