Fantasy truths ...

Last night I dreamed the strangest thing. I was helping a city with some administrative work associated with planning when a man brought his mom in to see about getting some work done on her house. He was inquiring about the quality of contractors in the area. He needed some help in making a choice.

We, the city staff and I, explained to him that we couldn’t recommend a contractor but we could provide a list of those whom we knew had done work and possessed the proper credentials.

“That won’t exactly work,” the man said.

“Oh, why?”

“If you line them all up,” he said, “they ain’t going to say, ‘I’m qualified but I do crappy work from time to time.’ We’ve tried that,” He paused. “On top of that, they won’t take the blame for any mistakes. Oh, little things like overestimating the cost and having to make a refund, they will accept blame. Big things, like putting a fireplace in backwards, they blame the city.”

“The city?”

“Or Hillary Clinton.”

His mom stood at his side saying nothing.

“Could you just let her make the choice?” someone asked.

“Oh,” he said, “she’s off making mistletoe soup with the Little People. She don’t make decisions no more. Anyway, this whole idea about using qualified workers seems a bit farfetched to me.”

We all just stared.

“On top of it all,” the man said, “the city won’t let us do what we want on account of its stupid regulations.”

“Like what?” I said.

“We want to use a new type of electrical wiring we bought on the Internet. They use it overseas, but here? Noooo.”

We all just stared.

“You want to use untested and improper material on your mother’s house?” someone said.

“She wouldn’t care, as long as it’s cheaper. Besides, she ain’t got long left.”

We all just stared.

Finally, someone said, “Well, you can’t do that. It could start a fire and burn a whole block,”

“You and your stupid regulations are ruining this country.”

We all just stared.

I woke up then, realizing how dreams sometimes carry too much truth for comfort.