In every relationship, there comes a time when your brain reaches a total saturation point, filled to the core with information that you hopefully use for good. My saturated mind has decided to use the disorganized sea of data to produce some really odd dreams filled with things my girlfriend will hopefully find funny.
The dream starts as so many do, suddenly I pop into the action from another dream, which had involved a cab ride and molotov cocktails and street riots, and I find myself looking at a map of Iowa.
"It doesn't appear to be on this atlas, we need a specific map of Iowa, Nick!" I put down the map, and I am in the back of a light blue van filled with camping gear and our bicycles. Nick and Brandon are up front arguing over the route to the starting point of RAGBRAI, and Nick shouts back, "I know it isn't on that map, but see if you can find the larger city that it is a suburb of, it is a northern suburb!"
"I'll just use my phone."
"You'll never get a signal in time!" Nick and Brandon both shout back. I fiddle with my phone, and the thing tells me to take an immediate right turn. "Nick, take the next exit to Booming! That's it!"
"Ok, goddamit! I AM SO ANGRY!" Nick is not an angry person, but apparently Iowa has aggravated him to the point of fury. Brandon gets in on the long wordless scream of rage, and we crest the ridge to see a sprawling city of skyscrapers and the Missouri River. The exit takes us along the ridge, and all we can see in the valley are giant buildings that look like they were made with LEGOs from our vantage point. "I AM GOING TO SMASH ALL OF THAT IF WE CAN'T FIND THE STARTING POINT SOON! RAAAAR!" At this point, my map feature on my phone quits, so I just direct Nick and Brandon to take whichever roads seems right to me. Eventually, we stop at a roadside rest area on the ridge, and I go find a map. When I come out of the rest area, Nick and Brandon have walked down into the valley and are smashing every skyscraper flat like Godzilla and Mecha-Godzilla. The valley which had looked deep and broad was actually a trick of the eye, and the buildings were made of LEGOs. It was all a hoax, or an elaborate movie set. The haze of smog was from a small misting machine, the Missouri river a small creek. I walk the twenty feet to the nearest building, rip it out of its base, and throw it at Nick's head. The building explodes in a shower of sharp plastic, and this shakes Nick out of his rampage. After we both threw some buildings at Brandon, he snapped out of his rage as well.
The two of them got back in the van, and we drove on to the sleepy little suburb where RAGBRAI was allegedly starting. When we get there, the town is a ghost town. No one on the sidewalk, no one driving, no one in the windows of the old farmhouses. We pull over at an intersection, and notice that two of the houses on diagonally opposite corners look suspiciously similar and Nick says, "I am going to smash that house, this is another movie set. You suck at directions, Charles."
"I'll just unload the stuff, this is where it is supposed to be." I walk around the house on the opposite corner from the one Nick wants to smahs, and I see goats in the windows. Nubian goats. "Those are Nubian goats. Hey guys, check out this house! It is full of Nubian goats!" The house is one of those old farmhouses that you see in New England or Iowa or wherever that are about 50 feet wide with a porch and some decorative woodwork, and then they stretch back over the property for about half a mile of addons, additions, extra rooms, and hallways all of different width and building materials. Goats are looking out of every window of this house.
One of the windows opens, and out come the goats. They flood out of the window in a cascade of bleating hoof, fur, and horn. When they stand up, the goats give this little shake and look at us like, "We do this every day." The goats all start wandering off. A last goat gives a warning bleat and we look up to see this large goat on the roof of the porch looking down at us. We have a second to ponder life's many mysteries before this goat leaps off the roof like a gazelle, and lands on Nick's head like a rhinoceros.
Nick and Brandon dust themselves off, and say that they are gonna bike a "quick fifty to get their heads in order." So I pull out my bike to check it over on the lawn of this house. I am checking the tires and gears and whatnot when I hear a throat cleared behind me. I turn around to see Harry Morgan standing there, looking at me strangely.
"Good morning, son. What are you doing on my lawn?"
"Uh, I'm working on my bike. We're here for RAGBRAI, but we seem to be early."
"Oh, right, RAGBRAI. They moved it to the next town up the river."
"Well, I will get our stuff together and we'll get off your lawn, sorry, sir."
"Why do you keep referring to yourself as we?"
"Oh, Nick and Brandon took off on an easy fifty, they'll be back in an hour or so."
"Okay, well, you have a good time on the ride."
"Uh, sir, Mr, Morgan? You probably get this a lot, but do you mind if I?"
At this point, we both stood upright and I saluted him, he returned the salute, and said, "Dismissed!"
We both turned away to our respective duties, but then Harry Morgan asked, "say you haven't seen any goats around here, have you?"
"Yes! A whole mess of Nubian goats fell out of this house just a few minutes ago."
"Nubians, you say? Those are not the goats I'm looking for."
"Oh, sorry, Mr. Morgan."
"I suppose I'll find them someday. Have a fun ride!"