Faberge eggs

Imagine riding on a huge wooden tricycle that looks like a dinosaur!  It has a long tail dragging along behind it.  A long neck to hold onto and peddles attached to where the ribs should be.  Really more of a wooden skeleton with a brontosaurus head, it is huge, probably twelve feet long and so heavy that peddling it uphill wears me out. 

I finally just give up and go to get married!  I found some sparkly makeup that made me look young and dewy and when I saw my reflection in the walls I looked like a Marie Osmond doll!  I had plenty of time to look because it was a very long walk.  Instead of going down the aisle, I went down a shiny winding tunnel to Disney World, escorted by a woman whose job it was to talk me into the marriage.

In the end I had a choice, my ex or Ralph Fiennes.  I wasn't thrilled with either, so I looked around for my dinosaur trike.

Dreams!  Sometimes I think my subconscious would be fine without me.  It seems to have a life of its own that covers all the details.  This body with its limitations and hang ups only gets in the way.  I'm kind of like an old suitcase with Faberge eggs packed inside.  Except some of the eggs are a bit cracked and all of them are seconds.

Still......