When I don't sleep in my own bed...

...I have odd dreams. While house sitting for Big Gay Jim this past weekend, I had this one:

I was sitting in class, but I didn't recognize the prof, or any of my classmates. The class was on sibling relations and we had a guest lecturer, an expert in the field. He was about six feet tall and thin, with a shaved head and a beard. He drew a circle on the whiteboard and then went and stood in the back of the room with a handful of markers. He took the caps off and threw the markers at the whiteboard, trying to make them hit so that they made a mark. They were bouncing off the board and flying back at the students in the front row, making a terrible racket.

After he'd thrown all of the markers, he explained in his clipped accent that this had been a favorite game for him and his brothers growing up in England and Australia. They had stayed very close as they got older, and they had been very successful in their professional endeavors, winning awards and making a ton of money together. Finally, it hit me - the guest speaker was Barry Gibb.

Yes, the guy from the Bee Gees.

As if that wasn't odd enough, after class he took me to his home to show me around his aviary. He had dozens of parrots and softbills, but I recognized none of the species. The house was like a maze, with areas dedicated to Amazons, Cockatoos, Toucans, etc. Most were breeding pairs, and he was happy to talk about each set; where he got them, how endangered they were, and the like. He really knew his stuff; we talked about DNA sexing, nest boxes, gestation times, egg candling, gavage feeding vs syringe feeding - all the nerdy topics that bird people blather on about.

When I mentioned Ajax, he asked what kind of bird he was. I said, "He's an African Grey - Cameroon."
"Hmm, African Grey," he said. "I've never heard of that species..."



We spent quite a while talking birds, then I had to leave. He told me to return anytime, and to bring Ajax so he could see him. We had a "right jolly visit" as he put it.

It didn't seem that odd to me at the time. He was a pleasant enough fellow, and we had birds in common... I have no idea why he was there, why he was bald, why he had never heard of the African Grey, or why he threw markers at the board.

I woke up filled with regret that I didn't tell him exactly how much the Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band movie had scarred me.

Epilogue
While searching for a picture to go with this post, I found this:



I fully expect my dream tonight to be about a bizarre attempt to cross the genes of Barry Gibb with those of a wookie... Can't you just see Chewbaca/Barry putting his own special spin on "Too Much Heaven"?

I'm was so happy to note that the artist took the time to copyright - don't want someone else taking credit for this beauty...