Dreaming...
With the nice warm weather and a big lake rodeo planned for the weekend Mr. 100% whether he is right or wrong dreams he is duck hunting.
In the dream me and some unidentifiable folks are on the lake. We have a pretty fast boat, so we are able to cover some ground looking for ducks. It's real important to hunt where the ducks are. Seems that the have that ability to be where you are not. I do not know how many cold mornings I have stood on the bank of a backwater cove only to have the ducks stand on the other side. The next day I would return to stand on that side in the cold dawn, wearing all those layers of clothing that make a quick urination impossible to find that the ducks are standing on the side I stood on yesterday. It's some kind of allegory of life I think.
Any way we arrive at some sort of camping area and decide that this is the place to hunt for some reason. There are duck decoys already in the water, a huge spread of them, and they seem to belong to some Arabic guys. These guys let us take a place near the end of the spread. They are nice (don't tell Cheney I said this) and have better equipment than us. They look cleaner than we are. My children like to point out that I slip in the mud a lot when hunting, but I don't remember doing it in this dream.
Anyway after a bit a couple of ducks fly over. I remember I have my dad's old Model 12 duck gun, a gun I still hunt with today (not TODAY, silly, duck season is closed, but when the time and place are proper) and I point to the ducks. They fly past and when they are gone, I shoot in the air. I hollar to the other guys, "I saw some, I missed."
In the dream me and some unidentifiable folks are on the lake. We have a pretty fast boat, so we are able to cover some ground looking for ducks. It's real important to hunt where the ducks are. Seems that the have that ability to be where you are not. I do not know how many cold mornings I have stood on the bank of a backwater cove only to have the ducks stand on the other side. The next day I would return to stand on that side in the cold dawn, wearing all those layers of clothing that make a quick urination impossible to find that the ducks are standing on the side I stood on yesterday. It's some kind of allegory of life I think.
Any way we arrive at some sort of camping area and decide that this is the place to hunt for some reason. There are duck decoys already in the water, a huge spread of them, and they seem to belong to some Arabic guys. These guys let us take a place near the end of the spread. They are nice (don't tell Cheney I said this) and have better equipment than us. They look cleaner than we are. My children like to point out that I slip in the mud a lot when hunting, but I don't remember doing it in this dream.
Anyway after a bit a couple of ducks fly over. I remember I have my dad's old Model 12 duck gun, a gun I still hunt with today (not TODAY, silly, duck season is closed, but when the time and place are proper) and I point to the ducks. They fly past and when they are gone, I shoot in the air. I hollar to the other guys, "I saw some, I missed."
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