My Sleeping Brain Writes Good Lines for Sam Elliott

There are three things that stand out about a recent dream that I had:

1) The dream was pretty damn weird.

2) While dreaming, my mind is apparently capable of writing killer lines for Sam Elliott.

3) The way my brain works, when my mind writes a killer line for Sam Elliott while I'm dreaming, this experience is potent enough to wake me up.  Whereas some people might wake in the midst of a nightmare, scared out of their minds, dreaming up good material for Sam has the same effect on me.  I was literally jolted awake.  I sat there in the darkness thinking, "Wow, that was a really good line."

So, the dream involved a woman I do not know and Sam Elliott.  These two had partnered in an attempt to operate a video rental business.  Given that my dreams tend to be rather absurd, this venture was located in a canyon and their inventory consisted of VHS tapes from the 80s.  The fact that this operation utilized VHS tapes from the 80s makes a bit more sense when you take into account that the Sam Elliot present in my dreams was also from the 80s--think The Quick and the Dead.  The canyon location is a bit more puzzling, particularly since I should probably specify that there was no structure situated within the canyon.  The VHS tapes were displayed on natural formations of rock that were roughly akin to shelves. 

Anyway, some marauding band of raiders vandalized this burgeoning enterprise one night, shooting up all the tapes.  Naturally, upon discovering this carnage the following morning, the woman and Sam Elliott were both greatly upset.  The woman was crying, lamenting the fact that they had not built a structure to house and protect their merchandise as well as her inability to find those responsible and make them pay for the damage.  Sam was equally distraught, but he was too pissed off to show it.  As he climbed atop a horse and prepared to go out looking for revenge, he said the line that I'm still stuck on.

"You're wishing you had done one thing and you're wishing you would do something else," Sam growled, yanking his six-shooter from its holster and proudly displaying it with a grin.  "Well, I'm fixing to do something--and it ain't wishing."  Then he promptly holstered his weapon and rode off, blazing a path toward a violent revenge, all while I sat up with a start, pondering my brain's ability to generate quality Sam Elliott material while I'm snoring.

If you somehow wind up in one of my dreams,
I strongly advise you NOT to fuck with Sam Elliott's VHS tapes.