I have this recurring dream about the Frankenstein monster on a surfboard riding a wave in some ocean outside Des Moines, Iowa. This is ridiculous for many reasons. For one, the Frankenstein monster can barely walk a straight line on a level floor. Getting air off an a-frame? I don't think so.
And now that I think about it, another factor contributing to the ridiculous nature of my dream is the pronounced lack of ocean in Iowa.
Yet the dream comes to me every night. 7 feet of reanimated flesh stuffed in a wetsuit.
I blame the Beach Boys.
I wonder if those guys were even aware when they wrote that song that not every state in the union deals with low tide.
Stupid Beach Boys.
Surfin' USA . . . eh.