Tuesday, September 14

 
Fr. Tucker allows us a window into his unconscious as he relates last night's dream of a Hapsburg Pope, making me wish I was one of his parishioners. I can't top that in terms of weird dreams (save for one very odd dream some years back which was set in the Basilique Notre Dame de Montreal and involved a Spanish bishop in a blue mitre, stiltwalkers in the choirloft, tinfoil, carpets, an out-of-place Signum Pacis, and a Tridentine Requiem), but the other day while I was riding the South Shore Line to Chicago, I did doze off and imagine the two dippy teenage girls in front of me were discussing Madame de Pompadour and Louis XIV. Trippy stuff.

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