I had a very weird dream the other day. I dreamed I was in a saloon in during the 1800’s. All was unusually quiet, save for one man who sounded a hell of a lot like Sam Elliot, who was telling a story…
“…Then the ol’ coot was sittin’ on the porch yellin’ at his woman to hurry up on gettin’ grub ready. She told him every time it was going to take a while because she was waitin’ for their boy to get back from the store with some salt pork.
I suppose he finally gave up n’ fell into a deep sleep. For two years he yelled and fussed over the drought goin’ on n he dreamed during this particular nap that clouds were a-gatherin’ about how it was sprinklin’ n he was jumpin all up n down “, hootin’ and a-hollerin’ (and the narrator demonstrated again) and slappin’ his hat when all of a sudden, he figured out the dust was still a-blowin’ n it was hotter than heck!
He took his hat and looked closely like this at it (demonstrates again), then he threw it down n stomped around like a crazy man!
“Why in the hell did he do that?” another man who sounded a lot like Anthony Zerbe asked.
“Well it was most likely because the bird in the nest above him on the porch pissed on his hat while he was sleepin’.”
They laughed as I woke up.