In it, I was riding my bike through a weird dream version of our town (complete with American Southwest scenery) to either the library or my church. While walking my bike over a hill choked with strange plants, I was suddenly attacked by none other than a grizzly bear.

After temporarily repelling it with my bike (I still have no idea how I managed to swing the bike with one hand, or for that matter how I prevented a one-ton mammal from utterly squooshing me), I ran down the hill into an idyllic little valley with lots of nice houses, some Home Depot employees, and (I blame Spitty or whatever his name is now) a llama farm.

By now the landscape had lost all resemblance to my town. In the valley, I found Patrick Stewart (in a bathrobe), to whom the bear apparently belonged. He tamed the bear somehow, I stuck my hand out, and the bear licked it, and that was the end of that particular dream.

Time to cut back on the eggnog, no?

Arpy