I was in a a ring full of sand with curious onlookers around the perimeter. My opponent was surely a martial arts master, and surely in his prime. Typical features abound, well built man of Asian stock with long greasy hair and a very prominent scar slashed across his face, blinding him in his left eye. The broken optic, at least I am sure of was influenced by the My Name Is Earl episode I had seen the other night, featuring an old cheerleader with a similar disfigurement. We fought to the death or to the knockout, if I got hit it would have been death, I know (or at least the end of the dream). Luckily, I landed several scores on this old brute until he decided to burrow underground and blow sand at my eyes; also a physically improbable feat. In retaliation I grabbed a shovel, out of nowhere I think, and began digging for the bastard. Once I got him up, I threw a few hand fulls of sand at his protruding eyes. I could not control my motions, I was a spectator in my own body. The dream was ended abruptly when in the real world a loud knock, a door bell ring, and several more knocks woke me from what could have been my silly victory.
By the time I got my sweats on and reached the front door, whoever had been knocking was gone, or so I thought. I believed he or she must have been a postal carrier, due to the mail sitting on the ground outside. I thought nothing of it then, but all I can think now is "Its a trap!". I'm sorry Ackbar, I failed you again.


Once outside, a car which was just starting up got turned off just as hastily. Sure enough the person in the car had seen me, if only I had just waited a few moments longer before going out. I stood motionless as the person came closer into view. I couldn't think the "Ah, shit" that went through my head as soon as I registered that the person, an old man, was not just any old man. It was "Brother Nielsen" (unsure of spelling). Naturally, most who reads this won't  know who he is: An ancient soul who is only alive today because he walks a tad faster than the death that follows him. He is the most active member of the Mormon church this side of Utah, and a born nagger. I cannot assume to know his intentions, though I assume they are his own salvation in the highest degree of heaven where he hopes to become a God with his two wives (not a polygamist in this life, but he is sealed to two wives in Mormon eternal marriage, the one who is alive right now, and the one who died awhile back). Anyway, he spends his time going about hounding on unfortunate members to get busy in the service of 'da Lord. Important work needs to be done, such as researching your family history so that you can baptize their corpses by proxy,  paying your 10% tithing, and finding new converts who can pay said tithing, and then keeping them semi-happy through home teaching programs that members must do (house calls for religious visits) for each other. So in far less time than it took me to write this, he was almost on me. "Gonna make me come up these stairs again?", he said, and with no reply from me. "Here is your dad's home teaching route, its the same one he's always had..." he then proceeded to nudge me, "...get this done this week!". I said blankly, "Okay". I could have mentioned to him that I was no longer a member of his church, but that might have triggered some evangelical messianic spring in him; who knows who he'd send after me. I walked back toward the door, humoring myself, and still somewhat drowsy from being woken up. All this was fine, until I looked at the piece of paper the good "Brother" gave me. It had my father's name, and... MINE! Me! What the hell? How am I still on their membership rolls! I sent in my damned resignation letter months ago! They never sent it? What is their problem? Why does leaving this organization have to be such a chore? Ugh... Maybe this time I'll try for excommunication, that'll be fun. I'll tell them all the naughty things I've done, all the sins of my apostasy. Oh yes, I'll go to their "Court of Love" and be struck down by the power of the holy spirit. Most likely not though, as I don't drink. Gah!