Dreams. They never make no sense. Well parts of 'em do, but those parts never seem to connect.

I submit that we should post our dreams here and let the rest of us try to make sense of 'em. This came about after talking to a few of our more familiar scduckers about one I had recently.....so here it is....laying it all out there for ya.....

I'm in my truck, alone, on a gravel road. Doing what, I don't know. Driving. All of a sudden I have bull elk SCREAMING to my right - a pair of 'em, actually. Panic sets in when I try to figure out how I'm gonna kill one of 'em. Do I have a rifle in the truck? I'm now standing on the passenger side and open the front door and standing in the seat is my dad's Ruger No.1 .270. I level it across the hood of the truck in the direction of the bulls that are now across the road at about 11:00. Next thing I know, I'm in the bed with the gun leveled across the roof and squeezing the trigger. Still haven't seen the elk. Peering through the scope, I am looking for the wapitis and I hear the crack of somebody else's rifle. In a scene of pastureland broken up with trees, I see a MONSTER of a bull elk tumble from the trees at about 50mph, then slide across the grass about 100' to a stop. Out pops the 2nd bull and it's a spike with 12" tines....
Here's where it gets good....
I am now deciding if I'm going to kill this little spike and level on him. Start to squeeze when something on the hood grabs my attention. Up from the front windshield and onto the roof appears a white beaver. A white beaver, I say.

Glenn is claiming the big bull, but I just don't know.

The end.

Go.....