So last night I had this elaborate dream involving Ringo Starr. He was stuck on the side of the road in a very expensive long white car because all rich people in dreams have long white cars.  I offered him a ride because that is what you do when a Beatle needs help. We got talking and he invited me to a party, a real shindig. I said yes, of course, because this was Ringo.

So Ringo was a little tipsy in the dream, and I know he doesn’t drink in reality anymore, but in my dream he was. I was busy getting ready for the party, which explains why I wasn’t there when Ringo asked my far-too-young son what there is to drink in this house, my house.

So my son mixed a Beatle a drink. How my son knew how to climb up to the very high drawer with the liquor and then put a bit of this and that into a glass, I have no idea. I remember in the dream being shocked that Ringo asked my son to do this (he used to be on Thomas the Tank Engine, he should know better), and even more shocked that he then did it. It was so very Mad Men.

I then took a selfie of the three of us thinking the entire time this may or may not be great for my blog.

Probably not… Maybe.