I have been dreaming that I am wearing sweater vests. Or rather, in every dream I have, another character inevitably points out that I am wearing a sweater vest, and when I look down at myself, behold!, I am wearing a sweater vest.

These sweater vests are not the cool kind. They are not so bad that they're good. If they are argyle, they are an ugly baby blue and forest green argyle. The sweater vests fit poorly. They are too tight in the body; the arm holes are stretched out or over-sized; they suck in too tightly at the waist, which makes me look strangely pudgy from the hips up. In one dream, it turned out that I was wearing the Palinode's dead uncle's sweater vest, and he wanted to change my name to Colin.

Last night, I dreamt about Onion, and he was wearing a tiny, cat-sized sweater vest that was green and brown with subtle cabling down his belly. I somehow knew that he was pleased with his attire.

As much as these dream sweater vests are unattractive and somewhat disturbing, I am finding myself desirous of one in my waking life. My dreams have sold me a sweater vest, and I want to take it back.

If you see someone on the street wearing an ugly sweater vest, and you find yourself wondering how they came to the conclusion that they should wear one, just know that there are many paths to the sweater vest, and be glad that your road has taken you on a different, sweater-vest-free route.

Joi-The-Herd Thursday. Baaaaah.