So I had this crazy dream.

It’s a play on a recurring dream that I have had from time to time. I’m in a Spanish / Columbian villa. The kind of place that a drug lord would have. I am speaking with an older gentlemen in a white suit; probably linen. He hands me a gun and tells me that there is a job to do. It’s one of those sawed off, two-barrel rifle guns. The ones that they used in the western.

Then from out under his chair, slithers a large, black cobra. In almost every case, I take the gun and shoot the cobra dead. That’s basically it, but last night, it was different. I take the gun and when the snake appears, I think to myself, “Ah, I know what happens next.” But the gun mis-fires. There is no dead snake. Instead, the snake moves around threateningly. It attempts to bite me, but cannot break through the hard leather of my dress shoe. The people in the room are in terror. Hell, even I am afraid.

So I do what any hero would do. I use my foot and stamp on the cobra’s head with a good twist. Cobra is dead.

What does it mean?

Most likely nothing, but I admit there is some very strong imagery. I woke up from the dream around 5:00 am. Took me well over a 1/2 hour to go back to sleep. I remember it vividly.

Tai