Two nights ago, I dreamt that a rich entrepreneur took me on a helicopter tour of the Oquirrh Mountains west of Salt Lake City. Unlike the real Oquirrh Mountains, these dream Oquirrh Mountains were vertiginous, and full of steep canyons and sheer rock faces.
Despite the forbidding terrain, the rich entrepreneur was building a city in the mountains. Tens of thousands of families had each claimed tiny lots among the rocks. The families were all hobbit-sized, and with their big bushy beards, the men looked like tiny Hasidim. All their belongings were piled into wheelbarrows (fact: unlike the Oregon Trail pioneers, many of the original settlers of the Salt Lake Valley in the 19th Century were too poor to own wagons, and thus had to push all their belongings west in wheelbarrows).
Each family also owned a fragile tiger cub. Pet the tiger cubs too hard, and they would crush - like soda cans. I crushed one tiger cub, and in the distance I could hear sirens.
....
No, I have no idea what it means either.
No comments:
Post a Comment