Last night I dreamed that I was charged with a violation of the Official Languages Act because the brand name on my running shoes was in English only.
Then I went to Radio Shack to buy something, and I handed over enough cash to pay for it, but then the cashier (who may have been Klingon) insisted that I tell her my account number. I asked her which account - bank? credit card? Air Miles? - but she refused to tell me, just insisting more and more forcefully that I tell her the account number.
Then the universe exploded, and I woke up.
1 comment:
At least the universe explodes for you. Color me envious. I just about always wake up at the interesting part of the dream and can never get back there for any resolution.
Maybe the cashier was Borg? Resistance is futile. :) Just tell her the damn account number(s).
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