What Dreams are Made of...

I woke up this morning and rolled over to look at my clock.  Before my eyes could focus on the glowing green numbers, the light began to flash insistently.  It was time to get up.  I hit the snooze button (simply because it was easier to find than the alarm off button and achieved the same end), hit the button to turn the light on and found the alarm off button and shut the thing off.  The next thought through my mind (so really, my first thought of the day because shutting the alarm off did not require thought- hit big blue button, hit big yellow button, hit little black button) was "I am the hungriest pirate in the world"  Once I digested that thought I had another:  "I have got to stop hanging out on RazzleFlabben Island during the night!"

After that, the thoughts came thick and fast.   RazzleFlabben Island.  I don't remember the last time I heard of that place.  It is a pretend place (don't tell Marvy Carvy Snuffleson III that!) that exists in the the children's audio drama series Jungle Jam and Friends.  It is inhabited largely by RazzleFlabben ( Wikipedia defines them such: "Originally two peoples, the Razzles and the Flabbenz, they united after Mr. Snuffleson helped work out their centuries old dispute.  Though humanoid, they are exceptionally tall and covered in brightly colored fur. They highly prize eggplant parmigiana") and a few other species (side-winding furbellies, whistling furchettas, etc).  The only way to get to RazzleFlabben Island is through a mysterious flash flood that carries you and your bed away, usually after you've gotten in trouble and been sent to your room.  You get to spend a day on the Island and then blissfully float back home on your bed in time for dinner. It's probably been a couple years since I last listened to a Jungle Jam episode with my siblings.

It made me wonder where dreams come from.  I had not been thinking about the RazzleFlabbenz.  I had not gotten in trouble and been sent to my room.  I had not been crying, nor had it been raining (two things that often cause the mysterious flash floods).  My window had not been open and I had not been washed out onto the high sea...or had I?    The last thing I remember as I drifted off to sleep was my bed gently rocking back and forth, like a boat.
Where do our dreams come from?  Does it matter?  I don't know. I just know that RazzleFlabben Island is a wonderful place and I was back in my room in time for breakfast. :)