"Eggory"

Last night I had a dream that I was dressed up in an egg costume and I was singing "I'm Eggory the 8th" I was also standing on a stool with a noose around my neck. 

When I woke up I was worried that this dream might an omen that I would die today.

I get in the shower and rinse the inside of an empty shampoo bottle to get the very last essence of shampoo onto my head, I manage to get some soulless suds out of it, I find the discarded nozzle and in a maneuver equivalent to toddler CPR I manage to get a few drops of the pure stuff out of it. 

Oh yeah now we're cookin! I ponder my dream and I think to myself how statistically speaking it is now less likely that I will die today, because what are the odds that I would die on a day that my subconscious decided to go Edgar Allen Pun on me?

 I then come to a worrisome conclusion that statistics don't actually affect chance or vice versa, as I flop around trying to get conditioner out of my eye, I think of how trying to predict the future with statistics is now just science backed superstition, another attempt to control this crazy world around us, like religion. 

As I climb out of the shower I think of how we come into this world with no real control of what happens around us, until we learn how to speak. It is now that we can ask for things, 

"Mommy I'm hungry!" 

"Daddy I want out of this bath!" 

Suddenly we can affect the world around us! But then we grow up, and we no longer see our parents as all-powerful cookie and bath time suppliers, but our mentality of asking doesn't really change, except now that our parents aren't masters of our fate then who is? 

 I go downstairs to the kitchen and pour myself some cereal with raisins. We never really stop treating the universe like a parent, some of us pray to it, asking the big Daddy in the sky for help, some try to predict the universe by its behavior: Like an astute child might know that mommy isn't so nice when she has the "grownup bottle", so it's time to play quietly in their room, AKA looks like a storm is coming, better get to higher ground AKA time to get the f*^%k out of Syria, 

and some of us assume that we are just children raised by children who have been here longer, Walking around on a great big beautiful ball of mud. 

And we might as well sit down and make a nice mud castle or two before we become part of the mud ourselves. 

I finish my cereal and take out the garbage. I decide that I will probably not die today, but that doesn't mean I won't, just like any other day really. 

So I might as well wash the dishes and pretend to be master of my fate.