The Cowboy came back last night.

Every night, it’s the same dream. The bedroom fades away into an infinite black void. The dark above my wife and I begins to dot itself with tiny twinkling stars. A crescent moon rises out slowly emerges out of the inky black as great tress build a canopy above our sleeping bodies. The smell of fresh green grass fills my nostrils as the blanket we huddle under becomes a grand striped field littered with tiny trees and itty bitty cows. Even though I am asleep, I can see all these things happening as I rest, as if I am very distant.

Suddenly, a horse’s whinny fills my ears and he arrives. The Cowboy and his steed gallop up out of the valley created by my bent knees to survey the land. There, with his trusty dog, he watches the cattle graze in stoic silence. At some point during his watch, he notices me watching and tips his hat to me. He notices my gigantic ear peeking up over the field and rides over. He has something to tell me. Something important. Something that will finally put my entire life into focus. He climbs down from his horse, clears his throat, and leans in to tell me the One Great Secret I so desperately need to know.

And then Marsha kicks me in the face and I wake up. I swear, one day, I going to get the girl to sleep in the same direction as I do.

Wear this shirt: where the buffalo roam and the deer and the antelope play.

Don’t wear this shirt: where there are a lot of discouraging words and the skies are cloudy all day.

This shirt tells the world: “To sleep: perchance to dream of tiny bovines.”

We call this color: Open Spaces Black

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