I had a dream last night that I was walking with a lady down Acoa Street, heading for some place called ACOA House. It didn’t quite seem like a date, but we were definitely headed to an event. When we walked into the house, a ragtag group of men reshuffled their seats around a table, opening a space for me at the center. Who was the empty chair next to me for? Their mother? The woman I was with? Was this a date?
They all looked like they had spit-combed their hair, plastering it into “good-boy” coifs, to make a proper impression on the new guy. You know, like that country music loving goof in The Shawshank Redemption. Or maybe the Elvis-lookin’ dude that gets shot. (spoiler alert) “Andy, I swear, if you let me in I’ll study hard and learn me somethin’!”
Some of the men I knew, which kinda surprised me. But they all looked like they were waiting for me to show up.
ACOA House, on Acoa Street? What can that possibly mean?
<Googles ACOA> OK Dreams, getting a little too real!