Yes, you read that correctly.

That phrase originated in last night’s dream, naturally.  In order for the dream to make any kind of sense at all (which it won’t), you have to know that when my brother and I were teenagers, we used to call each other ‘cork’ as a funny insult.  It was a harmless word that sounded vaguely dirty, so we really felt like we were getting away with something.  It was never meant as a genuine insult, it was always used in a tongue-in-cheek way, as in, “Take three, cork!”

In the dream, Brother and I were our current ages, and we were visiting Dad at his old house along the river in Vancouver.  We were upstairs in his bedroom, and he was talking to us about something, but we weren’t particularly paying attention.   Brother said to me, in a sotto voce ventriloquist way, barely moving his lips, so that Dad wouldn’t overhear, “Don’t forget to get the you-know-what.”  We were standing next to a large bookcase, so I thought Brother was referring to Dad’s collection of risqué books and soft-core pornography.

“I remember,” I whispered, gesturing ever so slightly with my head and eyes toward the bookshelf.

“Don’t forget about the check,” he corrected.

“I didn’t forget about it,” I said, faking anger.

“The check is coming to you,” he said.  Apparently Mom was sending a check for me to give to Dad, and I was supposed to call her to let her know when we arrived, so that she could send it.

“I know it is,” I replied, a bit stronger.  “Shut up. . .Power Cork!”

We took a beat while that ridiculous phrase hung in the air.  I chuckled quietly, to show him that I was just as surprised by what had come flying out of my mouth, and repeated under my breath, “Power Cork.”

We both cracked up, and that’s what woke me up, still laughing in my bed.