Note: Thanks to kateydidnt who challenged me to write this while we were having a very odd conversation about dreams. ***** "I had the strangest dream last night." Qui-Gon would have smiled and chided Obi-Wan for his use of such an imprecise term, but Obi-Wan usually wasn't this talkative in the mornings and this was something to be heeded. "A dream or a Force vision?" Qui-Gon asked. Obi-Wan, looking altogether too pensive for the average seventeen-year-old as always, waved his spoon vaguely. "It wasn't entirely clear." "Have you meditated on it this morning?" he suggested mildly. Meditation was generally like the generic painkiller corephem--it was something that a Master could prescribe with the words 'take four hours of this and call me in the morning.' "Do you meditate on Yoda's shaving cream?" He could do little more than blink and ponder rather frantically the question of whether or not Obi-Wan was serious. "Not as a general practice, no," Qui-Gon confessed rather cautiously. "Do you think it would help?" "No," Obi-Wan reasoned, "which is why I haven't meditated on it!" Apparently, this was supposed to make some kind of sense to him, but he could not honestly understand how or why. "Tell me more about this dream," he prompted, sitting at the kitchen table with the air of someone about to undergo a very painful experience. "It was about Master Yoda needing to lend his shaving cream to Master Windu so Master Windu could shave his nose hairs." Qui-Gon wasn't even sure Master Windu had nose hairs, much less that they needed to be shaved. He honestly hadn't bothered to look that close in years. "Go on," he said, honestly wishing that he could avoid that suggestion. "Well, it was all fine and good until we found out that Siri had put julaberry sauce in Master Yoda's shaving cream because it would dye his hair fuschia and Yoda started whacking Jocasta Nu with his walking stick because she had put the julaberries in the same box as the datacards for The Ugly Mynockling..." "I see," Qui-Gon lied, hoping to cut this off before he went into a glaze-eyed stupor. "And Bant, Siri, Bruck and Depa Billaba were all doing a kickline and singing that one song about Jedi Attachments from Jedi: The Musical. You know, the one about..." "I get the idea," Qui-Gon interrupted frantically. That song was hardly appropriate for Masters and definitely not suitable for a teenager with an overload of hormones. Perhaps it would be appropriate to meditate that out of the boy's system. "Well, then they wanted me to do a dance solo because the turbolift wouldn't work..." Too late. Eye-glaze had taken full effect and it would take a supreme effort with the help of the Force to escape it. "And then you were there, wearing a Twi'lek dancing costume. I must say you have QUITE shapely legs..." "OBI-WAN!" The roar of near-panic seemed to snap them both out of their state. Obi-Wan blinked, obviously wondering when and how he had lost his train of thought. Qui-Gon blinked, trying to recover some kind of control over the situation. "So, what do you think, Master?" Obi-Wan asked at last in deferential curiosity. Qui-Gon sighed sympathetically, then patted his Padawan's shoulder. "Dreams pass in time," he assured the young man. Let's hope this one passes instantaneously.