Dream. August 2002.

I had a weird dream early this morning. OK, here goes.
I was sitting on a street corner, talking to some people, when, all of a sudden, I noticed one of them was Ed McMahon. Alright, I told you it was weird - but hang on. It gets weirder.
I start telling Ed what a gift he and Johnny Carson gave the world. I blabbed on and on. I told him about a song idea I had which mentions him (true). We get up and start walking and he puts his arm around me and tells me he loves me like a father. The next thing I know, we're in bed together and he jabs a needle in my arm - which sort of paralyzes me. When I look over at him, he has turned into a good looking woman, with dark hair. I somehow know she's some sort of witch and she has me in her spell.
I can't get out of the bed, so I ask her "If I can't leave this bed, can we at least have sex?" She says "Sure. OK." So, we both get naked and begin having sex, in an odd position that would take too long to explain, and I realize that my bed is in my kitchen right next to the outside door. And the door is open.
Well, my oldest sister comes over and peers through the screen door. She senses that something is wrong. I mean, I'm all doped up, or under a spell, and having sex with a witch with the door open. My sister asks if everything is OK. I say "Yes, please go away." She says "I'm calling the cops" and leaves.
The woman disappears, but she leaves behind what appears to be a large bag of crack. About $500 worth. I freak out and try to get rid of it because I think the cops are going to show up and arrest me for it. I try to flush it down the toilet, but the toilet wouldn't flush properly, and the baggie is floating in the bowl. Oh yeah, and somehow I knew that the woman (witch?) and Ed McMahon (are they one and the same?) are part of a secret society that started in the 1920s.
The next thing I know, I'm talking to my nephew and I had forgotten that he had just recently lost his arm (he has 2 arms in real life) at his job, somehow. We're talking and he's about ready to leave when I look over and see his stump (cut off just below his elbow) and I say something like "How's the arm doing?" He says it's a little better, but he really misses it. Then he says something about boxing with our uncle Floyd, who has one arm in real life. Uncle Floyd used to do this thing, when we were little, where he was play-boxing with you and then he would act like he was going to throw a big right, but there was no right to throw. But, you would jump back anyhow and he would laugh.
Well, that's the dream - plus a little bit about my uncle. I warned you it was weird.
Oh yeah, when I woke up for work and used the toilet, it didn't flush properly. That dream baggy of crack would have floated like a dead gold fish.