During one of my 11 hour sleeping stints last week on vacation, I had a dream. In this dream I was the personal assistant to the beer baron August Busch's wife. We were at a day spa and she sent me to find a tampon post-haste while she was getting a pedicure. While bumbling around the antiseptic building, in that I was not and am not keen on matter of feminine hygiene acquisition, I bumped into a chum from high school. We engaged in a brief conversation and the next thing I know I'm being whisked away on an undercover sting operation for Poncherello of CHIPs fame. We were trying to debunk an anti-cult group who was in the process of sneaking into a Branch Davidian compound in Highland, Illinois where they wanted to hang a series of charcoal sketches on the walls in hope to confound the sneaker-wearing purists.

In the eleventh hour, my mother rocked me out of sleep with her standard, "Get up! You're sleeping your life away" missive so I'm unable to divine how the mystery unfolded or how un-fresh Mrs. Busch felt after I did not return with her medicinal parcel.

sidebar: an inherent problem with a dream journal comes in trying to decipher your early morning scratches and scrawls. This is what I read, days later when I consulted my palm pilot for a reminder of this dreams? details.

i was a nard fcr poncherello. The criminals at hand where areligious fanatics whg were tryinv to sneak into a bvicdinin highuand illinoij to hang some of their charcoal drawings on tye wall

i got mixed up in aul this aftr bumpfng into a hioh school chum at a women's health spa. Ihad somzhow been drafted as thE personal assistant for augvst bushes wife and was retUrning from my emand Of locating a tampon for her when i ran into this h1gh school chur.

second sidebar: and, did you know that ponch's full character name was Officer Francis Llewellyn 'Ponch' Poncherello? I now know where all of the creative efforts for that show were expended.