Not sure how many Freudian/Jungian/Yogi-Berrian volumes of analysis this will yield, but Da-da can pretty much guess. Da-da had 792 dreams last night -- two he remembers, three including this one -- that warrant some examinination.
In Da-da's first dream, he was... a baseball. He saw the world from a baseball's point of view, being thrown around -- WHOOAA! -- smacked into center field -- OWWW -- smacking into a glove, grabbed by a hand, thrown toward home plate, rolling along the ground, smacking into another glove -- YER OUT! -- tossed to the ump, set aside as being flawed, later emerging to have Ethel Merman write, "Roberto Clemente," on Da-da's face and hand him to a child dressed as Elvis... ok. That's a pretty easy one to figure out. It's almost baseball season, Da-da's been smacked and thrown around by life, has a healthy fear of Ethel Merman, Da-da's part of an Elvis Control Group, and that pesky MKULTRA-induced insanity that's been lurking behind Da-da's backstop since the abduction. But the other dream...
...was simply awesome. Da-da was a SQUIRREL. A fuzzy perky gray squirrel with full-on, smokin' bionic multiclawed four-paw drive that allowed Da-da to scream up and down trees, along limbs, onto roofs... laughing all the while. And yeah, Da-da knows what you're thinking, and the tail just FLIES along for the ride. Happy Friday, everyone.