Last night, I had one of my rare "occupational hazard" dreams, but this one was different from the others. Usually, whenever I have an "occupational hazard" dream, it's on the eve of some kind of an event that requires me to perform, and usually the dream tends to be a nightmare of anything that can go wrong does . . . this dream, on the other hand, was totally different.
In this dream, I had built a puppet, and for the first time ever, it actually turned out so good that I was actually pleased with it: building has never been one of my strongest skills as far as puppetry goes, and most of my puppets tend to look cookie cutter at best, but this time however, I built a puppet that was so good that I found myself forming such an emotional attachment to it that I began treating it as if it was my own daughter - kind of like a Frankenstein or Professor Utonium thing going on, because it was like I didn't just build a puppet, I created life.
You think that hack screenwriter who penned that awful biopic script about Jim Henson hallucinating that the Muppets were coming to life and tormenting him shortly before he died somehow intercepted my dreamwaves last night?