There’s a commercial for DirecTV that keeps me cracking up long after its 30-second duration.

The squirrels just aren’t listening to Dave.

In a park setting, a man is unsuccessfully trying to shoo a gang of rodents away. They’re not interested in his pleas and shrieks. In fact, they leap onto his legs, torso — he’s covered with bushy-tailed (and incredibly aggressive) squirrels. The point is that squirrels may not listen to Dave, but DirecTV with voice control will.

Like the squirrels, our subconscious also doesn’t care what we have to say at times, either.

I wrote a song in high school that I’ve never done anything with. It came to me easily and it’s simple, but it soars in just the right places; it gives me chills when I play it.

After Thanksgiving had come and gone, my mom asked me last night what I’d do for a living — anything — if I could get paid for it. I said I’d be a writer.

My subconscious had other plans.

Sometime during the wee hours this morning, I dreamt that I was about to take the stage along with many others. Everyone was going to sing something, so I was preparing to do the same.

I can do one or two songs somewhat decently when I karaoke, so maybe I’ll sing one of those. But I won’t have any accompaniment, so that cuts down my options. What’s a good a capella song? The national anthem? Amazing Grace?

It was an intense dream. Oh, the pressure. I didn’t want to flop, but I knew I had other talents that far outweighed singing. So I changed my mind.

I’ll play my song — the one I wrote in high school.

The scene beneath my hands was so clear and vivid. My fingers rested above the very black and white keys that would lead off the song. The audience was still and quiet, each person anticipating my musical offering. I wasn’t nervous, as I knew the song like the back of my hand. It’s a part of me.

I awoke and knew I’d answered last night’s question incorrectly.

The truth is that both are fairly neck and neck, though music edges out writing ever so slightly — like 51/49. If the split wasn’t clear before, it was this morning.

Any squirrels in your life? What are they up to, and why? What do you think you know? Better yet, would your subconscious agree? When you speak, is it the truth?

Tonight I’m thankful for a dream that illuminated the truth and for fake squirrels that spawned this little story. Sometimes connecting the dots can be tricky in the light of day, but once we adjust to the dark, we might be surprised how clearly we can see.

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