I feel a little short-changed, having a dream about Jeff Tweedy where I never actually get to see, touch, lick, or kiss him. Basically, Jeff and I were fighting the Mexican radicals that had infiltrated the midwest and wanted our daughter (I guess at some point pre-dream Jeff and I had done some touching, licking, and kissing).
Jeff and I only communicated by CB. I had a gun, our baby daughter, and the CB and was hiding out in some garage. Jeff was on the CB telling me to go find the green Chevy Nova and drive it to some place I can’t remember. He said we would be safe there and that’s where he’d meet us.
I woke up before I found the Nova.
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If the Mexicans had found you, they would have stolen the Nova to make a lowrider.
So, what you’re saying is Mr. Tweedy has great taste in women & cars.
No, I’m saying that Tweedy was slumming it (clearly).
Oh, right. My mistake.
That’s okay. It happens a lot. The CB was the key to the dream’s symbolism.
10-4, good buddy.