Who's a good messiah?!

    I had a two-part dream last night. By this, I mean that I woke up, went to the bathroom, went back to sleep and the dream continued. The difference was that the first part was like a movie, i.e., I wasn't involved but in the second one I was definitely in there. It was a dream about a new messiah and his harbinger or avatar. Once I was actually in the dream, though, it was all about meeting chicks. We met one who had herself had a dream about meeting a new messiah and his avatar; I assured her that we were they. Then I started rubbing the messiah's hair and saying, "Who's a good messiah?!" like you would with a dog. Fortunately, the young woman was impressed.
    I'm sure we would have had many apocalyptic adventures, but then I was in still another college dormitory. Unlike the usual one, this one was not necessarily the size of a city under one roof and for a change I wasn't necessarily lost in it. I was, however, stuck in an endless line in a dining hall that had no food. I'd like to think that I said, "Bump this" (or that I suggested to Messiah Boy that he make with the loaves and fishes) but instead I found myself by a stairway with an unending line of young women in their underwear going up or down. I didn't seem to mind the wait.
    What we learn from this is that if given the position of harbinger for a new messiah, I would use it to meet girls. And if confronted by a long string of young women wearing limited clothing, I would forget all about the whole avatar thing. I suspect that this may have happened often in history.
    Meanwhile in kittyland, I found my old dome tent, last seen when I used it to introduce Amelia into our household nine years ago. Its smell has not improved. Neither cat was smitten with the idea of being segregated in there, even with food and water and toys. So it can go away for another nine years, and we're back to the drawing board.