Wednesday night
Dream 1: Helping the Detective
My wife was a detective, returning to the scene of a crime. A young woman was missing, and foul play was suspected. She (the detective) walked through the girl's bedroom, looking around, and put on one of the CDs that the (possible) victim owned. She sang along, out loud, while continuing to look at everything in the room. Just then, the camera seemed to pull back to reveal a sad sight: the body of the victim, fully clothed in a dark shirt and pants, and with her back to us, was stuffed between the mattress and the box spring of her bed. The tension was great, because "we" knew where the body was, but the detective hadn't found her yet. Finally, a hand broke through the pane of the dream from our perspective and pointed it out to the detective.
Dream 2: Secret Smile
I was walking through a room, from left to right. First, I passed my dad. Next, I passed Denise, who was sitting to my left. She was a teenager again, and smiled silently at me as I walked by. We had an understanding between us... we couldn't date now, but maybe years later...
*****
Dream 1: Helping the Detective
I do think of my wife as a detective sometimes. She misses nothing; especially something that obvious. In some ways, this dream reminds me of "The Silence of the Lambs," particularly the scene in which Clarice Starling returns to the victim's bedroom to learn more about her.
Dream 2: Secret Smile
I still haven't seen or spoken to D. in 20 years. She'll be 40 next May. Hard to believe.
I thought about not including these dreams in the blog today, for various reasons, but what the hell -- they are what they are. The dreams that I've had this month depicting violence toward women bother me. And the thing about Denise; I guess she's still in the back of my mind, along with the other characters.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Making a Mess
Sunday night
I was upstairs at my parents' old house, preparing to paint a plaster wall in my one of the bedrooms. I was working with a compound, sort of a mound of primer, that I was planning to spread on the walls when the old paint was cleared away. It was white and fairly sticky, with the consistency of dough. As I scraped the old paint, the chips were falling all over, and soon I had quite a mess on my hands. I decided that the expedient thing to do would be to use the ball of primer to pick them up, or as a spot where I could stick the paint chips as I came across them, or as I pulled them from the wall. Of course, after a few minutes, I realized that I'd made a big junkball, and that it would be nearly impossible to spread the mixture on the wall later. I was standing there puzzling over what I had done when I heard the doorbell ring on the first floor. I walked downstairs, where my wife had opened the door and greeted John Seigenthaler, who had come by for a visit. They were sitting in the dining room when I got there. Mr. Seigenthaler rose from his chair when he saw me, and I said, "Hi John. I'd shake your hand, but... and showed him evidence of the paint and primer.
(At that moment I was awakened by the morning alarm.)
*****
John Seigenthaler is a pretty important guy in Nashville, and well respected. We've spoken once or twice, and he's been nice to me. He hosts a weekend show on the local PBS station called "A Word on Words." I saw one of his programs recently in which he interviewed author Bruce Barry, Professor of Management and Sociology at Vanderbilt University and president of the ACLU of Tennessee, about Barry's book "Speechless: The Erosion of Free Expression in the American Workplace." It was a very interesting show.
It seems to me that in almost every case, dreams are unique events; a mixture of sights, sounds and stories that will never occur exactly the same way again. That's why I'm always sad when one of my dreams is interrupted. I'll never know where it could have led.
By the way, I don't remember any peeling or chipping paint inside the folks' house. Mom wouldn't have put up with that.
I was upstairs at my parents' old house, preparing to paint a plaster wall in my one of the bedrooms. I was working with a compound, sort of a mound of primer, that I was planning to spread on the walls when the old paint was cleared away. It was white and fairly sticky, with the consistency of dough. As I scraped the old paint, the chips were falling all over, and soon I had quite a mess on my hands. I decided that the expedient thing to do would be to use the ball of primer to pick them up, or as a spot where I could stick the paint chips as I came across them, or as I pulled them from the wall. Of course, after a few minutes, I realized that I'd made a big junkball, and that it would be nearly impossible to spread the mixture on the wall later. I was standing there puzzling over what I had done when I heard the doorbell ring on the first floor. I walked downstairs, where my wife had opened the door and greeted John Seigenthaler, who had come by for a visit. They were sitting in the dining room when I got there. Mr. Seigenthaler rose from his chair when he saw me, and I said, "Hi John. I'd shake your hand, but... and showed him evidence of the paint and primer.
(At that moment I was awakened by the morning alarm.)
*****
John Seigenthaler is a pretty important guy in Nashville, and well respected. We've spoken once or twice, and he's been nice to me. He hosts a weekend show on the local PBS station called "A Word on Words." I saw one of his programs recently in which he interviewed author Bruce Barry, Professor of Management and Sociology at Vanderbilt University and president of the ACLU of Tennessee, about Barry's book "Speechless: The Erosion of Free Expression in the American Workplace." It was a very interesting show.
It seems to me that in almost every case, dreams are unique events; a mixture of sights, sounds and stories that will never occur exactly the same way again. That's why I'm always sad when one of my dreams is interrupted. I'll never know where it could have led.
By the way, I don't remember any peeling or chipping paint inside the folks' house. Mom wouldn't have put up with that.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Can I Get My Stuff Back?
Saturday night
I had recently moved into a new home, but many of my things remained at my old house, which had been bought by a young family with two small children. I went back there to retrieve some of my possessions, and found several of my stereo components in a new cabinet on the side porch, along with three full shelves of my L.P.'s. My speakers were out there, too, accompanied by a row of my books about rock and roll. The young wife found me there, staring at it all. She said, "Do you have to take them right now? It's such a great library, and my husband enjoys reading about the records while he listens to them."
I walked out into the backyard and found the large, red plastic tub that I used to store sports equipment. Some of my bats, balls and Frizbees were strewn about, so I began to gather them up. I stuck a few Wiffle bats into the tub, and the new owners' youngest boy popped his head up and grinned at me. He had been hiding in there.
I noticed that one of the pine trees in my old garden had died, so I decided to cut it down. But before I did that, at the very least, I could save some of the bark for the garden path. I got out my ax, and began chipping it away. Just then, one of the young woman's relatives walked out of the house, and came over to talk to me. It was Senator Ted Kennedy. He said, "I'm sorry about your tree, but I'm glad you're saving the bark for the mulch. We use it at our home down in Florider."
*****
Our nieces and nephews visited us here in Nashville for Thanksgiving, so I pulled our red plastic tub out of the shed, and we had sports equipment scattered all over the yard. Of course, those few days made every bit of work on the backyard worthwhile.
My wife and I watched "This Old House" and "Ask This Old House" on PBS yesterday afternoon. Many of the guys featured on those shows have thick Boston accents; I'm sure that's why I thought of Ted Kennedy. One of the segments of the second show featured a young family (with two children) who were spreading mulch in their backyard so that their kids would have a safe place to play. (There wasn't enough sunlight to get much grass to grow back there.)
The Kennedys owned a compound in Palm Beach, which, for a time, was known as "The Florida White House."
I had recently moved into a new home, but many of my things remained at my old house, which had been bought by a young family with two small children. I went back there to retrieve some of my possessions, and found several of my stereo components in a new cabinet on the side porch, along with three full shelves of my L.P.'s. My speakers were out there, too, accompanied by a row of my books about rock and roll. The young wife found me there, staring at it all. She said, "Do you have to take them right now? It's such a great library, and my husband enjoys reading about the records while he listens to them."
I walked out into the backyard and found the large, red plastic tub that I used to store sports equipment. Some of my bats, balls and Frizbees were strewn about, so I began to gather them up. I stuck a few Wiffle bats into the tub, and the new owners' youngest boy popped his head up and grinned at me. He had been hiding in there.
I noticed that one of the pine trees in my old garden had died, so I decided to cut it down. But before I did that, at the very least, I could save some of the bark for the garden path. I got out my ax, and began chipping it away. Just then, one of the young woman's relatives walked out of the house, and came over to talk to me. It was Senator Ted Kennedy. He said, "I'm sorry about your tree, but I'm glad you're saving the bark for the mulch. We use it at our home down in Florider."
*****
Our nieces and nephews visited us here in Nashville for Thanksgiving, so I pulled our red plastic tub out of the shed, and we had sports equipment scattered all over the yard. Of course, those few days made every bit of work on the backyard worthwhile.
My wife and I watched "This Old House" and "Ask This Old House" on PBS yesterday afternoon. Many of the guys featured on those shows have thick Boston accents; I'm sure that's why I thought of Ted Kennedy. One of the segments of the second show featured a young family (with two children) who were spreading mulch in their backyard so that their kids would have a safe place to play. (There wasn't enough sunlight to get much grass to grow back there.)
The Kennedys owned a compound in Palm Beach, which, for a time, was known as "The Florida White House."
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Border War
Friday night
I was one of three Confederates (or Confederate sympathizers) in a border state, such as Missouri or Kansas, and we were preparing for a battle. All three of us were wearing civilian shirts and pants; most likely, we were farmers. We had the higher ground, but the enemy was approaching from below, and we were hopelessly outnumbered. The leader of our group climbed a hill behind us to have a look around, and we scrambled after him. He walked to the edge of a town, looked around a bit, and came back with his instructions. Basically, we were to disperse in three different directions.
I was given an additional job, too. The commander asked me to go and buy him a fancy dress uniform. I said, "But how will I pay for it?" The other citizen-soldier said, "Here." That's when I noticed that he had a solid gold fingernail. He proceeded to trim the edge of it, and handed the clipping to me. He said that would be more than enough to cover the cost.
Even though I had escaped imminent danger, I still had to be wary in town. I'd have to be extra sure of the tailor's sympathies before asking him to do the job.
*****
I've recently decided to opt out of my employer's 401(K) plan, for various reasons, and will probably choose to go with a Roth IRA to "grow my money." In lieu of a golden fingernail, that is. I think that might be what this dream is about. I mentioned this theory to my wife a few minutes ago. She thought a moment and said, "That freaks me out, man. I don't like it."
I was one of three Confederates (or Confederate sympathizers) in a border state, such as Missouri or Kansas, and we were preparing for a battle. All three of us were wearing civilian shirts and pants; most likely, we were farmers. We had the higher ground, but the enemy was approaching from below, and we were hopelessly outnumbered. The leader of our group climbed a hill behind us to have a look around, and we scrambled after him. He walked to the edge of a town, looked around a bit, and came back with his instructions. Basically, we were to disperse in three different directions.
I was given an additional job, too. The commander asked me to go and buy him a fancy dress uniform. I said, "But how will I pay for it?" The other citizen-soldier said, "Here." That's when I noticed that he had a solid gold fingernail. He proceeded to trim the edge of it, and handed the clipping to me. He said that would be more than enough to cover the cost.
Even though I had escaped imminent danger, I still had to be wary in town. I'd have to be extra sure of the tailor's sympathies before asking him to do the job.
*****
I've recently decided to opt out of my employer's 401(K) plan, for various reasons, and will probably choose to go with a Roth IRA to "grow my money." In lieu of a golden fingernail, that is. I think that might be what this dream is about. I mentioned this theory to my wife a few minutes ago. She thought a moment and said, "That freaks me out, man. I don't like it."
Friday, November 23, 2007
Mail Bonding / A Shot at Fame
Thursday night
Dream 1: Mail Bonding
My brother Andrew was a reporter again, and I was visiting with him as he attempted to make arrangements for a forthcoming trip to China. He was trying to arrange passage of some type between two remote cities, and had hit upon the idea of hitching a ride between the two towns in a mail carrier's truck. I stood near him as he negotiated this plan with one of the Chinese Post Offices via telephone. The good news was that the manager of the post office spoke English, and seemed to be an American. The bad news was that he wasn't going for it, and Drew was getting pretty exasperated. The manager said, "We're not bonded for a trip like that." Andrew said, "I know that! I'm not either!"
Dream 2: A Shot at Fame
My wife and I had gone with a few friends to a large theme park, and decided to catch the variety show in a big outdoor amphitheater. We lucked into some pretty good seats, about three rows from the front, at stage left (to the right of the stage, from our perspective). I was wearing a canvas fisherman's cap; it was white on top, with a blue lip, and it had several breathing holes in it, surrounded by metal grommets. (It was probably pretty similar to the hat Gilligan wears on "Gilligan's Island," except for the blue color on the bottom portion, and the holes around the sides.) Anyway, on this day I had decided to unfold the hat and wear it so that it practically covered my eyes. I was wearing shades, too, to complete the look.
I must have looked pretty distinctive to the folks who ran the show, because one of their employees, an Asian man, spotted me from the stage, pointed at me, and said, "You! Do you want to be part of the show today?" I said, "OK," and climbed up there. He led me backstage, to prepare for my bit. I planned to make the most of it; I knew that the star of the show had dated Cher once upon a time, so I was going to startle him by getting in front of a mike and saying, "So, how are you and Cher getting along these days?" (I was snarky that way.)
It was a gigantic complex, just for the stage production, and it was easy to get turned around back there. I found myself wandering between several sound stages, trying to figure out where I should be. Finally, I came across three young producers, in matching black polo shirts. I asked them what I should do, and they led me to the makeup table, where two young women with black hair were going through the motions getting people ready. My makeup artist had black-rimmed glassed. The whole thing seemed exciting to me. I said, "Do you like your job?" She hesitated, then frowned, and shook her head. Someone walked by and called out, "50 minutes," meaning that I had that much time till my skit began. Just then, someone else joined us at the makeup table; Max C. had shown up to see if he could have his 15 minutes of fame, too. He wasn't chosen by the staff; he was filling out a "stand-by" form, on the off chance that he could be an extra. I said to no one, and everyone, "If Gilbert Godfried can be a successful comedian, so can Max!" Suddenly, Max leaped atop the table and shouted, "THAT'S RIGHT!"
*****
Dream 1: Mail Bonding
My brother Andrew was a reporter for a long time. He still works for a newspaper, but he's in management now. My dad worked on the government side of the U.S. Postal Service for about 25 years.
Dream 2: A Shot at Fame
I did indeed have that canvas hat, and liked it a lot. I think I got it during a beach vacation, years ago.
Max is an interesting guy that I knew at the foundation where I used to work, in Virginia. He was, and is, a radio reporter. He was always friendly to me. Nowadays he can still be heard reporting on D.C. government matters on National Public Radio. Sometimes we even hear his reports on Nashville's public radio station.
Dream 1: Mail Bonding
My brother Andrew was a reporter again, and I was visiting with him as he attempted to make arrangements for a forthcoming trip to China. He was trying to arrange passage of some type between two remote cities, and had hit upon the idea of hitching a ride between the two towns in a mail carrier's truck. I stood near him as he negotiated this plan with one of the Chinese Post Offices via telephone. The good news was that the manager of the post office spoke English, and seemed to be an American. The bad news was that he wasn't going for it, and Drew was getting pretty exasperated. The manager said, "We're not bonded for a trip like that." Andrew said, "I know that! I'm not either!"
Dream 2: A Shot at Fame
My wife and I had gone with a few friends to a large theme park, and decided to catch the variety show in a big outdoor amphitheater. We lucked into some pretty good seats, about three rows from the front, at stage left (to the right of the stage, from our perspective). I was wearing a canvas fisherman's cap; it was white on top, with a blue lip, and it had several breathing holes in it, surrounded by metal grommets. (It was probably pretty similar to the hat Gilligan wears on "Gilligan's Island," except for the blue color on the bottom portion, and the holes around the sides.) Anyway, on this day I had decided to unfold the hat and wear it so that it practically covered my eyes. I was wearing shades, too, to complete the look.
I must have looked pretty distinctive to the folks who ran the show, because one of their employees, an Asian man, spotted me from the stage, pointed at me, and said, "You! Do you want to be part of the show today?" I said, "OK," and climbed up there. He led me backstage, to prepare for my bit. I planned to make the most of it; I knew that the star of the show had dated Cher once upon a time, so I was going to startle him by getting in front of a mike and saying, "So, how are you and Cher getting along these days?" (I was snarky that way.)
It was a gigantic complex, just for the stage production, and it was easy to get turned around back there. I found myself wandering between several sound stages, trying to figure out where I should be. Finally, I came across three young producers, in matching black polo shirts. I asked them what I should do, and they led me to the makeup table, where two young women with black hair were going through the motions getting people ready. My makeup artist had black-rimmed glassed. The whole thing seemed exciting to me. I said, "Do you like your job?" She hesitated, then frowned, and shook her head. Someone walked by and called out, "50 minutes," meaning that I had that much time till my skit began. Just then, someone else joined us at the makeup table; Max C. had shown up to see if he could have his 15 minutes of fame, too. He wasn't chosen by the staff; he was filling out a "stand-by" form, on the off chance that he could be an extra. I said to no one, and everyone, "If Gilbert Godfried can be a successful comedian, so can Max!" Suddenly, Max leaped atop the table and shouted, "THAT'S RIGHT!"
*****
Dream 1: Mail Bonding
My brother Andrew was a reporter for a long time. He still works for a newspaper, but he's in management now. My dad worked on the government side of the U.S. Postal Service for about 25 years.
Dream 2: A Shot at Fame
I did indeed have that canvas hat, and liked it a lot. I think I got it during a beach vacation, years ago.
Max is an interesting guy that I knew at the foundation where I used to work, in Virginia. He was, and is, a radio reporter. He was always friendly to me. Nowadays he can still be heard reporting on D.C. government matters on National Public Radio. Sometimes we even hear his reports on Nashville's public radio station.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Good Luck, Dasha
Tuesday night
Dasha, the photographer in our department, was leaving, so she threw a big party at the townhouse that she shared with several other employees. The next morning, I was lying on the floor under a table. I hadn't been drinking, but had decided to leave some words of encouragement along her wall, just above the baseboard. These words would be left with a permanent Sharpie marker. I began to write, "Don't sell yourself short, or your work -- you can do things that a lot of other people can't do." Unfortunately, I ran out of room, and tried to continue my sentence on the carpet. I made a few mistakes, and was making some blobs on the rug with White Out when one of our fellow workers, Erik B., walked in, and opened a closet door. He didn't see me; he was looking for a tie to wear to work that morning. As soon as he left, another coworker, Darryl B., came in. He's a very tall guy. He didn't see me either. Unfortunately, he tripped over my feet and cursed.
*****
Today really is Dasha's last day here. She just walked through to make her final rounds, and I said, "Hey -- I had a dream about you last night!" She stepped back and said, "Well, that's a pretty creepy way to say goodbye!" She smiled, but she kinda meant it, too. I went on to describe the party, and she said, "Man, that's a detailed dream!" If she only knew about the really detailed ones. Anyway, mental note made: maybe it's not so cool to mention the dreams to the coworkers after all. Incidentally, the part about the townhouse is made up. I don't have any idea if she has a townhouse, roomates, etc.
I hate graffiti, but I would be remiss if I didn't own up to my penchant for signing the interior spaces of some of my former workplaces when I was about to quit. I used to work at a record store called Penguin Feather, in a building which at one time contained a bank. The manager's office was in the back room with the big safe. Just before I left, I stood on top of the desk and drew a very detailed logo for Bruce Springsteen's album "The River" at the top of one wall, and on part of the ceiling. Later, when I was leaving Crown Books, I inscribed part of lyrics of Springsteen's song "Ramrod" along the top of their back room wall, mainly to piss off my then-manager, Joe S.: "Say you'll be mine, little girl, I'll put my foot to the floor / Give me the word, now, Sugar, we'll go ramroddin' forever more..." Always liked that one.
Dasha, the photographer in our department, was leaving, so she threw a big party at the townhouse that she shared with several other employees. The next morning, I was lying on the floor under a table. I hadn't been drinking, but had decided to leave some words of encouragement along her wall, just above the baseboard. These words would be left with a permanent Sharpie marker. I began to write, "Don't sell yourself short, or your work -- you can do things that a lot of other people can't do." Unfortunately, I ran out of room, and tried to continue my sentence on the carpet. I made a few mistakes, and was making some blobs on the rug with White Out when one of our fellow workers, Erik B., walked in, and opened a closet door. He didn't see me; he was looking for a tie to wear to work that morning. As soon as he left, another coworker, Darryl B., came in. He's a very tall guy. He didn't see me either. Unfortunately, he tripped over my feet and cursed.
*****
Today really is Dasha's last day here. She just walked through to make her final rounds, and I said, "Hey -- I had a dream about you last night!" She stepped back and said, "Well, that's a pretty creepy way to say goodbye!" She smiled, but she kinda meant it, too. I went on to describe the party, and she said, "Man, that's a detailed dream!" If she only knew about the really detailed ones. Anyway, mental note made: maybe it's not so cool to mention the dreams to the coworkers after all. Incidentally, the part about the townhouse is made up. I don't have any idea if she has a townhouse, roomates, etc.
I hate graffiti, but I would be remiss if I didn't own up to my penchant for signing the interior spaces of some of my former workplaces when I was about to quit. I used to work at a record store called Penguin Feather, in a building which at one time contained a bank. The manager's office was in the back room with the big safe. Just before I left, I stood on top of the desk and drew a very detailed logo for Bruce Springsteen's album "The River" at the top of one wall, and on part of the ceiling. Later, when I was leaving Crown Books, I inscribed part of lyrics of Springsteen's song "Ramrod" along the top of their back room wall, mainly to piss off my then-manager, Joe S.: "Say you'll be mine, little girl, I'll put my foot to the floor / Give me the word, now, Sugar, we'll go ramroddin' forever more..." Always liked that one.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
The Pharmacist's Daughter
Monday night
Ed B. and I were visiting our friend Gordon at his parents' house. Gordy still lived there, so this dream probably took place about 20 years ago. The three of us were sitting in the kitchen, reminiscing about an acquaintance of ours that had recently died. She was a nice young woman, the daughter of Gordon's pharmacist. We had all liked her. I said to Gordy, "It's hard enough for me, but it's got to be particularly tough for you. You knew her a lot better than I did, and you still see her dad whenever you need to have a prescription filled."
Changing the mood (and the subject), I said, "Damn, I forgot to bring over that DVD I made for you." Gordon said, "That's O.K. Let's go upstairs and watch a movie. You can bring it over next time." We went up to Gordon's room, and sat on his bed. We climbed under the bedspread, as if it was a slumber party, and Gordy turned on the TV. As the movie began, he passed the DVD cover around. It was a 1930s flick featuring child star Jackie Cooper. I said, "I have two of his films in my collection at home, but I've never seen this one." I pulled the covers up to my chin and got ready to enjoy the show.
*****
I probably saw several Jackie Cooper movies on Sunday morning TV when I was a kid, but the one I remember most is "Treasure Island," from 1934.
I did see a movie in Gordy's room once -- it was The Beatles in "A Hard Day's Night." Ed was there. We sat on top of the covers.
Ed B. and I were visiting our friend Gordon at his parents' house. Gordy still lived there, so this dream probably took place about 20 years ago. The three of us were sitting in the kitchen, reminiscing about an acquaintance of ours that had recently died. She was a nice young woman, the daughter of Gordon's pharmacist. We had all liked her. I said to Gordy, "It's hard enough for me, but it's got to be particularly tough for you. You knew her a lot better than I did, and you still see her dad whenever you need to have a prescription filled."
Changing the mood (and the subject), I said, "Damn, I forgot to bring over that DVD I made for you." Gordon said, "That's O.K. Let's go upstairs and watch a movie. You can bring it over next time." We went up to Gordon's room, and sat on his bed. We climbed under the bedspread, as if it was a slumber party, and Gordy turned on the TV. As the movie began, he passed the DVD cover around. It was a 1930s flick featuring child star Jackie Cooper. I said, "I have two of his films in my collection at home, but I've never seen this one." I pulled the covers up to my chin and got ready to enjoy the show.
*****
I probably saw several Jackie Cooper movies on Sunday morning TV when I was a kid, but the one I remember most is "Treasure Island," from 1934.
I did see a movie in Gordy's room once -- it was The Beatles in "A Hard Day's Night." Ed was there. We sat on top of the covers.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Justice & Revenge
Monday night
I was a college student, and had heard that a member of a hated rival fraternity loaded with obnoxious rich kids was the last person seen with a young woman who had disappeared from campus. Somehow I had ended up possessing a receipt which, without a doubt, placed him at the last location where the woman had been seen.
I drove my van over to the suspect's fraternity house, turned off the engine, and waited. Before long, I was approached by a member of their group. He wasn't the guilty party, but he was a friend and protector, and I loathed him, as well. He leaned in my passenger's side window, found the receipt in the door pocket underneath, and grabbed it. He fixed me with a mean, satisfied gaze, said, "Sucker," and walked away, convinced that he'd put their little problem to rest. That's what I wanted them to think. Unbeknownst to them, I still had the yellow copy of the receipt, which I proceeded to drive to the police station.
*****
On one hand, this is a sort of an "Animal House"-style class struggle, with some "Law and Order" seriousness thrown in. But in a larger sense, I wonder if this dream is dredging up some anger at rich folks in this country who are "getting away with murder"?
The case of poor Natalee Holloway, the Alabama college graduate who disappeared in 2005, probably filtered in there, too.
I was a college student, and had heard that a member of a hated rival fraternity loaded with obnoxious rich kids was the last person seen with a young woman who had disappeared from campus. Somehow I had ended up possessing a receipt which, without a doubt, placed him at the last location where the woman had been seen.
I drove my van over to the suspect's fraternity house, turned off the engine, and waited. Before long, I was approached by a member of their group. He wasn't the guilty party, but he was a friend and protector, and I loathed him, as well. He leaned in my passenger's side window, found the receipt in the door pocket underneath, and grabbed it. He fixed me with a mean, satisfied gaze, said, "Sucker," and walked away, convinced that he'd put their little problem to rest. That's what I wanted them to think. Unbeknownst to them, I still had the yellow copy of the receipt, which I proceeded to drive to the police station.
*****
On one hand, this is a sort of an "Animal House"-style class struggle, with some "Law and Order" seriousness thrown in. But in a larger sense, I wonder if this dream is dredging up some anger at rich folks in this country who are "getting away with murder"?
The case of poor Natalee Holloway, the Alabama college graduate who disappeared in 2005, probably filtered in there, too.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
On the Trail
Saturday night
Bob Dylan, my friend Ed B. and I were riding around in a beat-up old station wagon, campaigning for Hillary Clinton. Dylan looked cadaverous. He wore a cowboy hat, and was sporting a pencil-thin mustache. I asked him how he became involved in the campaign. He said, "I was asked to help out with her oil initiative [earlier] and I was impressed by that."
We got to the site of the day's rally, and Ed went around and opened the back of the car, where we stored our gear. An old white sheet, or blanket, was laid out over the flat bed, and Ed noticed that it was crawling with beetles and other bugs. He frowned and said, "We're going to have to do something about this, or they're going to eat up everything."
*****
I watched a re-run of the Democratic presidential debate in Las Vegas a few nights ago on PBS, and have followed up with political commentary from news organizations on the Web.
Last night my wife and I were doing our Thanksgiving grocery shopping and I stopped by the magazine rack and flipped through the 40th anniversary issue of Rolling Stone. I was disappointed to see Bob Dylan, the bard himself (with cowboy hat and mustache), featured in a two-page advertisement for Cadillac. Does he really need the money?
Anyway, I thought of Ed when I got to the bean aisle, and marveled over the variety of styles of Bush's Baked Beans that were available. You had your original family recipe, BBQ style, spicy beans, beans with onion, Boston recipe, country style, beans cured with maple syrup and bacon...
Ed and I embarked on a wonderful camping trip to the Smokies many years ago, which has been mentioned before in this blog. Ed was a vegetarian that week, so he carted along a massive pot of beans which were "curing" down the entire length of Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway. I'm more of a legume fan now than I was then, but to be honest, I must say that while Ed has a way with rice, those had to be among the most tasteless beans ever cooked by humankind. Last night I was thinking, "If only those beans had had some some spices, some bbq sauce, or some onions..."
Bob Dylan, my friend Ed B. and I were riding around in a beat-up old station wagon, campaigning for Hillary Clinton. Dylan looked cadaverous. He wore a cowboy hat, and was sporting a pencil-thin mustache. I asked him how he became involved in the campaign. He said, "I was asked to help out with her oil initiative [earlier] and I was impressed by that."
We got to the site of the day's rally, and Ed went around and opened the back of the car, where we stored our gear. An old white sheet, or blanket, was laid out over the flat bed, and Ed noticed that it was crawling with beetles and other bugs. He frowned and said, "We're going to have to do something about this, or they're going to eat up everything."
*****
I watched a re-run of the Democratic presidential debate in Las Vegas a few nights ago on PBS, and have followed up with political commentary from news organizations on the Web.
Last night my wife and I were doing our Thanksgiving grocery shopping and I stopped by the magazine rack and flipped through the 40th anniversary issue of Rolling Stone. I was disappointed to see Bob Dylan, the bard himself (with cowboy hat and mustache), featured in a two-page advertisement for Cadillac. Does he really need the money?
Anyway, I thought of Ed when I got to the bean aisle, and marveled over the variety of styles of Bush's Baked Beans that were available. You had your original family recipe, BBQ style, spicy beans, beans with onion, Boston recipe, country style, beans cured with maple syrup and bacon...
Ed and I embarked on a wonderful camping trip to the Smokies many years ago, which has been mentioned before in this blog. Ed was a vegetarian that week, so he carted along a massive pot of beans which were "curing" down the entire length of Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway. I'm more of a legume fan now than I was then, but to be honest, I must say that while Ed has a way with rice, those had to be among the most tasteless beans ever cooked by humankind. Last night I was thinking, "If only those beans had had some some spices, some bbq sauce, or some onions..."
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Test
Friday night
Kevin W., a former post-doctoral fellow where my wife used to work, was a youngster again, about 17 or 18 years old. He was sitting in the corner of a classroom, taking an American citizenship test. Surprisingly, his hair was completely white.
*****
Kevin is in his 30s now, and he and his family live in Knoxville. He came through Nashville last weekend to see a concert, and we were supposed to hook up for dinner, but my wife had a cold, so we canceled. I thought of him again yesterday, however; Kevin is a huge Ohio State fan, and his family gave out buckeyes as favors at his wedding. Yesterday, one of my coworkers, apparently another huge fan of Ohio State, walked around with a tray of edible "buckeyes," made of dollops of peanut butter smothered in chocolate. They were sinfully good, but I had to have three of them to make sure.
Anyway, Kevin's hair is black, but is rapidly going prematurely gray. The strange conceit of this dream is that it supposedly reveals that he started out with white hair, which gradually became streaked with black.
Kevin was born in Ohio, by the way, and has never needed to take a citizenship test.
Kevin W., a former post-doctoral fellow where my wife used to work, was a youngster again, about 17 or 18 years old. He was sitting in the corner of a classroom, taking an American citizenship test. Surprisingly, his hair was completely white.
*****
Kevin is in his 30s now, and he and his family live in Knoxville. He came through Nashville last weekend to see a concert, and we were supposed to hook up for dinner, but my wife had a cold, so we canceled. I thought of him again yesterday, however; Kevin is a huge Ohio State fan, and his family gave out buckeyes as favors at his wedding. Yesterday, one of my coworkers, apparently another huge fan of Ohio State, walked around with a tray of edible "buckeyes," made of dollops of peanut butter smothered in chocolate. They were sinfully good, but I had to have three of them to make sure.
Anyway, Kevin's hair is black, but is rapidly going prematurely gray. The strange conceit of this dream is that it supposedly reveals that he started out with white hair, which gradually became streaked with black.
Kevin was born in Ohio, by the way, and has never needed to take a citizenship test.
Commercial / Not My Thing
Thursday night
Dream 1: Commercial
My employer(s) decided that they needed to make a TV commercial to reach the younger audience, so they enlisted the help of some of the 20-somethings at work to plan it, and appear in the spot. Christy S. and Eden F., among others, were filmed out in the woods with their Jeeps parked nearby, taking part in some hip, off-road youngster party.
Dream 2: Not My Thing
The Eagles had a new album out, so one enterprising reporter decided to track down singer Don Henley's son and ask him what he thought of it. The son said, "To be honest, I never really got [understood] my dad's music."
*****
Dream 1: Commercial
This dream reminds me of those cigarette ads that I used to see in magazines, in which beautiful people were shown having a blast at the seashore, on a sailboat, in a hot rod, making a snowman, etc., while wielding (unlit) cigarettes in their hands. I'd think to myself, That does look like fun... but what do the cigs have to do with any of it?" I suppose that the purpose of those ads has always been for the subjects' glamour and joie de vivre to rub off on the product being sold, however unlikely the situation, and that's what was going on in last night's dream.
Christy and Eden are both nice people. I don't know if they own Jeeps or not.
Dream 2:
The Eagles just released their first new studio album in 28 years, and the thing has reportedly already sold 3 million copies worldwide. Don Henley and his cohorts have given a few press interviews lately, saying that this CD might be their swan song, and that it serves as a present/message to their children, most obviously on the last song on the double album, "It's Your World Now." That's probably why I dreamed of Henley's kid. I have no idea how many kids he has, or if they are boys or girls.
Do any kids really like their dad's music, or vice versa?
Dream 1: Commercial
My employer(s) decided that they needed to make a TV commercial to reach the younger audience, so they enlisted the help of some of the 20-somethings at work to plan it, and appear in the spot. Christy S. and Eden F., among others, were filmed out in the woods with their Jeeps parked nearby, taking part in some hip, off-road youngster party.
Dream 2: Not My Thing
The Eagles had a new album out, so one enterprising reporter decided to track down singer Don Henley's son and ask him what he thought of it. The son said, "To be honest, I never really got [understood] my dad's music."
*****
Dream 1: Commercial
This dream reminds me of those cigarette ads that I used to see in magazines, in which beautiful people were shown having a blast at the seashore, on a sailboat, in a hot rod, making a snowman, etc., while wielding (unlit) cigarettes in their hands. I'd think to myself, That does look like fun... but what do the cigs have to do with any of it?" I suppose that the purpose of those ads has always been for the subjects' glamour and joie de vivre to rub off on the product being sold, however unlikely the situation, and that's what was going on in last night's dream.
Christy and Eden are both nice people. I don't know if they own Jeeps or not.
Dream 2:
The Eagles just released their first new studio album in 28 years, and the thing has reportedly already sold 3 million copies worldwide. Don Henley and his cohorts have given a few press interviews lately, saying that this CD might be their swan song, and that it serves as a present/message to their children, most obviously on the last song on the double album, "It's Your World Now." That's probably why I dreamed of Henley's kid. I have no idea how many kids he has, or if they are boys or girls.
Do any kids really like their dad's music, or vice versa?
Friday, November 16, 2007
The Mask
Wednesday night
It was almost Halloween, and I'd decided that I'd thrill the trick or treaters by dressing up as the wolf man. I put on my hairy gloves and went over to the local party store to put the finishing touches on my costume. When I got there I found a rubber wolf man mask that used electricity (batteries?) to make the mouth move. As it did, it broadcast pre-recorded scary sayings in a loud, deep voice.
*****
I did dress up as the wolf man for Halloween this year, and I did have the hairy gloves, but no mask. Instead, I opted for makeup; I colored in a black dog's nose and drew up some scary arched eyebrows. I also had some pointed white rubber fangs, but they didn't stay in too well. For a few minutes, I thought about using Fixodent or some denture adhesive, but I was afraid that they'd never come off. The ensemble was topped off with a sort of a pompadour wig, which, unfortunately, was black, when it should have been brown. I looked in the mirror and said, "I look like a deranged Tony Orlando."
The party stores at the mall and the Halloween shelves at Target were filled with expensive, moving, talking gadgets this year, but I tend to shy away from the gimmicky stuff, which seems to be dated fairly quickly. I prefer simpler, home-made Halloween decorations.
It was almost Halloween, and I'd decided that I'd thrill the trick or treaters by dressing up as the wolf man. I put on my hairy gloves and went over to the local party store to put the finishing touches on my costume. When I got there I found a rubber wolf man mask that used electricity (batteries?) to make the mouth move. As it did, it broadcast pre-recorded scary sayings in a loud, deep voice.
*****
I did dress up as the wolf man for Halloween this year, and I did have the hairy gloves, but no mask. Instead, I opted for makeup; I colored in a black dog's nose and drew up some scary arched eyebrows. I also had some pointed white rubber fangs, but they didn't stay in too well. For a few minutes, I thought about using Fixodent or some denture adhesive, but I was afraid that they'd never come off. The ensemble was topped off with a sort of a pompadour wig, which, unfortunately, was black, when it should have been brown. I looked in the mirror and said, "I look like a deranged Tony Orlando."
The party stores at the mall and the Halloween shelves at Target were filled with expensive, moving, talking gadgets this year, but I tend to shy away from the gimmicky stuff, which seems to be dated fairly quickly. I prefer simpler, home-made Halloween decorations.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The Eye in the Sky
Monday night
I took off in a sprint across the prairie, put my arms out, and soon I was soaring like a hawk. I could feel the thermal winds in my fingers, and could bank and swoop with the slightest adjustments.
Although I was having a great deal of fun, this wasn't just a pleasure cruise; I was on a mission. After a while I arrived at my destination. I pulled my arms in and landed with my feet in a branch of a tall tree next to a rustic cabin. (Some birds in the tree were startled by my arrival, and got out of the way.) Some Indian (Native American) men were milling about outside, and I had to remain hidden; they might shoot me if they saw me. They were dressed in a mixture of styles; their shirts and pants were made by whites, but they also wore bandanas and jewelery.
I wasn't there to see the Indians, however. I had come to see a baby Caucasian boy who was being kept inside. I flew by periodically to check on him, to see that he was all right.
Some time later, when the boy was about 2 years old, I had somehow arranged to get him out of the shack; presumably, I had adopted him. At the end of the dream the kid was sitting on a bench outside the general store, and he was wearing a bright white sweater. I was standing next to him, and we were waiting for the stagecoach that would take us to our new life together. In the meantime, I had my portable boom box with me, so I hit the play button, and he and I did the Twist to "At the Hop" by Danny and the Juniors.
*****
I was flipping through a magazine the other day, and noticed a photo of a room that contained a cardboard cutout of John Wayne. Last night I may have been thinking of his film "The Searchers," in which Wayne's character and some others chase after some Comanches who may have kidnapped his niece after a raid that killed her family.
I took off in a sprint across the prairie, put my arms out, and soon I was soaring like a hawk. I could feel the thermal winds in my fingers, and could bank and swoop with the slightest adjustments.
Although I was having a great deal of fun, this wasn't just a pleasure cruise; I was on a mission. After a while I arrived at my destination. I pulled my arms in and landed with my feet in a branch of a tall tree next to a rustic cabin. (Some birds in the tree were startled by my arrival, and got out of the way.) Some Indian (Native American) men were milling about outside, and I had to remain hidden; they might shoot me if they saw me. They were dressed in a mixture of styles; their shirts and pants were made by whites, but they also wore bandanas and jewelery.
I wasn't there to see the Indians, however. I had come to see a baby Caucasian boy who was being kept inside. I flew by periodically to check on him, to see that he was all right.
Some time later, when the boy was about 2 years old, I had somehow arranged to get him out of the shack; presumably, I had adopted him. At the end of the dream the kid was sitting on a bench outside the general store, and he was wearing a bright white sweater. I was standing next to him, and we were waiting for the stagecoach that would take us to our new life together. In the meantime, I had my portable boom box with me, so I hit the play button, and he and I did the Twist to "At the Hop" by Danny and the Juniors.
*****
I was flipping through a magazine the other day, and noticed a photo of a room that contained a cardboard cutout of John Wayne. Last night I may have been thinking of his film "The Searchers," in which Wayne's character and some others chase after some Comanches who may have kidnapped his niece after a raid that killed her family.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Train Time Warp/Circles/Shopping/Collection
Saturday night
Dream 1: Train Time Warp
I was traveling with my brother Jimmie and an older woman with black hair. She was short; we're talking Toulouse-Lautrec stature. We were walking through a dark train station which seemed to double as some sort of a historical museum. At one point Jimmie broke off to the left and walked into a tunnel. Nonplussed, I said, "I'll see you in South America," meaning that I'd rendezvous with him there. A few minutes later I'd walked out ahead of the small woman, and I heard her scream my name. I turned around to see her grabbed by guards; a wall was closing them off. She called out, "I've been arrested by the United States in 1914!" and then she was gone.
Dream 2: Circles
My wife and I were walking around in a large scientific lab with another guy, who I presume was her boss -- I had never met him. I was tasked with discovering the difference between a circle and a sphere. I thought, "Maybe one is 2-D and one is 3-D; or maybe one of them isn't exactly round, but might have some corners if you look closely."
Dream 3: Shopping
My old high school friend, Jeff V., and I were excited about going to a large record store in an old, early 20th-century building. We'd never been there before. The stock was huge, but still somewhat disappointing. I didn't find any of the imports or new wave records that really set a cool record store apart from the ordinary, run-of-the-mill variety. We had meandered through the store to the exit on the other side when we came across some organs and pianos. I said, "So, this is where all the instruments are." I asked Jeff if he found what he wanted; he said no. The place wasn't all it was cracked up to be, so we left, looking for something to eat.
Dream 4: Collection
Shannon F., one of the managers at my current job, was visiting me at my parents' house. We were sitting on the floor of the basement playroom. I said, "Do you like 80s music?" She said that she did, so I said, "Well, have a look at this." I took a key from my pocket and unlocked a wooden cabinet along the wall. I opened the door to reveal many neat horizontal stacks of 45 r.p.m. singles, most with interesting paper or cardboard covers, stored immaculately in clear sleeves. She said, "Do you have the software to play these?" I said, "I have a record player."
We took a few stacks out of the cabinet, laid them on the floor, and began looking through them. Many of the 45s were from the 80s. There were a few singles by The Go-Go's, solo singles from Belinda Carlisle, and a nifty British picture disc single by The Cars, from 1979. Then Shannon picked up a 45 that stopped her in her tracks. She squinched her face and said, "John Travolta?!"
*****
Dream 1: Train Time Warp
The spooky train station in this dream is eerily similar to the one in a dream I titled "Panic" (8/19/07). In fact, this may be a recurring dream. Interestingly enough, I was walking ahead of someone else in that dream, too, who also disappeared. Strange.
I think the older woman in this dream may have been actress Linda Hunt in her role as Billy Kwan in "The Year of Living Dangerously," from 1982. Her comments about being arrested "in 1914" are pretty bizarre, even for one of my dreams. I don't know what that's about, but I may have been thinking about recent reports I've seen on public television about the U.S.'s policy of "extraordinary rendition." The American guards were definitely thugs in this dream.
Dream 3: Shopping
The local F.Y.E. store here in Nashville, formerly Tower Records, is located in a large 1920s building with a nice gray facade. I think it was originally a utility building, maybe an electric company. Jeff V. was a very close friend in high school. We visited many record shops in our day. Denise is his sister (see the dream "D.," 7/6/07).
Dream 4: Collection
We had one of those large all-hands meetings at work the other day, and someone was loosening up the group by asking musical trivia questions. I won a giant candy bar for being the only one who knew Paul McCartney's first name (James). Later, I was standing near Shannon when someone said, "I wished they'd asked more questions about the 1980s."
I did keep my beloved collection of picture sleeve singles in a wooden cabinet, but it had no doors, and wasn't locked. It's strange that the singles were stacked horizontally in the dream; I would never have done that; the records would have warped. My singles were stacked neatly in vertical rows, gently leaning against each other. I did own the Go-Go's and Cars singles in the dream, but while I bought one or two Belinda Carlisle 45s, the ones in the dream were made up. And no, I never bought a single by John Travota.
I got rid of my 45s when I finally made the jump from vinyl to CD. Some days I wish I still had them, but I wasn't playing them anymore, and it became sort of a storage problem, just like my photo albums (and everything else). I did love collecting them, though, and love them still.
Dream 1: Train Time Warp
I was traveling with my brother Jimmie and an older woman with black hair. She was short; we're talking Toulouse-Lautrec stature. We were walking through a dark train station which seemed to double as some sort of a historical museum. At one point Jimmie broke off to the left and walked into a tunnel. Nonplussed, I said, "I'll see you in South America," meaning that I'd rendezvous with him there. A few minutes later I'd walked out ahead of the small woman, and I heard her scream my name. I turned around to see her grabbed by guards; a wall was closing them off. She called out, "I've been arrested by the United States in 1914!" and then she was gone.
Dream 2: Circles
My wife and I were walking around in a large scientific lab with another guy, who I presume was her boss -- I had never met him. I was tasked with discovering the difference between a circle and a sphere. I thought, "Maybe one is 2-D and one is 3-D; or maybe one of them isn't exactly round, but might have some corners if you look closely."
Dream 3: Shopping
My old high school friend, Jeff V., and I were excited about going to a large record store in an old, early 20th-century building. We'd never been there before. The stock was huge, but still somewhat disappointing. I didn't find any of the imports or new wave records that really set a cool record store apart from the ordinary, run-of-the-mill variety. We had meandered through the store to the exit on the other side when we came across some organs and pianos. I said, "So, this is where all the instruments are." I asked Jeff if he found what he wanted; he said no. The place wasn't all it was cracked up to be, so we left, looking for something to eat.
Dream 4: Collection
Shannon F., one of the managers at my current job, was visiting me at my parents' house. We were sitting on the floor of the basement playroom. I said, "Do you like 80s music?" She said that she did, so I said, "Well, have a look at this." I took a key from my pocket and unlocked a wooden cabinet along the wall. I opened the door to reveal many neat horizontal stacks of 45 r.p.m. singles, most with interesting paper or cardboard covers, stored immaculately in clear sleeves. She said, "Do you have the software to play these?" I said, "I have a record player."
We took a few stacks out of the cabinet, laid them on the floor, and began looking through them. Many of the 45s were from the 80s. There were a few singles by The Go-Go's, solo singles from Belinda Carlisle, and a nifty British picture disc single by The Cars, from 1979. Then Shannon picked up a 45 that stopped her in her tracks. She squinched her face and said, "John Travolta?!"
*****
Dream 1: Train Time Warp
The spooky train station in this dream is eerily similar to the one in a dream I titled "Panic" (8/19/07). In fact, this may be a recurring dream. Interestingly enough, I was walking ahead of someone else in that dream, too, who also disappeared. Strange.
I think the older woman in this dream may have been actress Linda Hunt in her role as Billy Kwan in "The Year of Living Dangerously," from 1982. Her comments about being arrested "in 1914" are pretty bizarre, even for one of my dreams. I don't know what that's about, but I may have been thinking about recent reports I've seen on public television about the U.S.'s policy of "extraordinary rendition." The American guards were definitely thugs in this dream.
Dream 3: Shopping
The local F.Y.E. store here in Nashville, formerly Tower Records, is located in a large 1920s building with a nice gray facade. I think it was originally a utility building, maybe an electric company. Jeff V. was a very close friend in high school. We visited many record shops in our day. Denise is his sister (see the dream "D.," 7/6/07).
Dream 4: Collection
We had one of those large all-hands meetings at work the other day, and someone was loosening up the group by asking musical trivia questions. I won a giant candy bar for being the only one who knew Paul McCartney's first name (James). Later, I was standing near Shannon when someone said, "I wished they'd asked more questions about the 1980s."
I did keep my beloved collection of picture sleeve singles in a wooden cabinet, but it had no doors, and wasn't locked. It's strange that the singles were stacked horizontally in the dream; I would never have done that; the records would have warped. My singles were stacked neatly in vertical rows, gently leaning against each other. I did own the Go-Go's and Cars singles in the dream, but while I bought one or two Belinda Carlisle 45s, the ones in the dream were made up. And no, I never bought a single by John Travota.
I got rid of my 45s when I finally made the jump from vinyl to CD. Some days I wish I still had them, but I wasn't playing them anymore, and it became sort of a storage problem, just like my photo albums (and everything else). I did love collecting them, though, and love them still.
Friday, November 9, 2007
I Want What I Want
Thursday night
I was looking for shoes, and I was all business. I walked into a shop and a tall, thin, older gentleman asked if he could help me. I said, "I'm looking for Chuck Taylor high-tops, but I want them with a stronger, more reinforced sole." The man led to me to his display of tennis shoes. The selection was limited, amounting to a few pairs of regular Converse shoes in blue, gray and black. He said, "The kids aren't wearing the high-tops these days." I frowned; this was not what I wanted to hear. The salesman stood by good-naturedly, seemingly amused that I could get so worked up over a pair of Chucks. I left by the side door so I wouldn't have to talk with him again.
*******
Despite my actions in this dream, I tend to be a slow-moving, contemplative person, and hate being rushed. I enjoy going to the mall and spending hours just bopping about. (Sometimes I tell my wife I'm going out to do "the bear thing." She knows that I mean that I'm going to wander about blissfully until something grabs my attention, as the bears do. That's my idea of a no-stress afternoon.) So, shopping doesn't bother me; constraints on my time bother the hell out of me.
Having said all that, I must admit that I hate it when I do have my mind set on something and find that the store is out of stock, so I have to go elsewhere, or wait. Of course, it makes me uptight because I'm usually crunched for time. If I don't have to worry about the tyranny of the clock, then I don't mind so much driving to another store. "Slow down, you move too fast / You got to make the morning last..."
I wore Converse Chuck Taylor high tops when I was a kid, and started wearing them again in the 1980s, only stopping when someone convinced me that they didn't offer enough support. That explains this dream; I still love the things, I only want an improved version.
I have had some luck while shoe shopping lately. I was shivering from the cold last weekend, so I went over to Macy's and found a very comfy pair of Gold Toe premier suede slippers with real shearling padding, or somesuch. I put those things on the second I arrive at home each night. As for work shoes, I've decided that I don't want to deal with laces anymore. (That way, they're easier to kick off.) I'm wearing a pair of slip-on shoes made by a company called Sandro. They are made of distressed-looking brown leather, and feature a "comfort gel" sole. They are mighty comfortable for work shoes, although I don't know if they are in keeping with the latest styles. To me, they look like something Joe Namath would have worn, circa 1973.
I was looking for shoes, and I was all business. I walked into a shop and a tall, thin, older gentleman asked if he could help me. I said, "I'm looking for Chuck Taylor high-tops, but I want them with a stronger, more reinforced sole." The man led to me to his display of tennis shoes. The selection was limited, amounting to a few pairs of regular Converse shoes in blue, gray and black. He said, "The kids aren't wearing the high-tops these days." I frowned; this was not what I wanted to hear. The salesman stood by good-naturedly, seemingly amused that I could get so worked up over a pair of Chucks. I left by the side door so I wouldn't have to talk with him again.
*******
Despite my actions in this dream, I tend to be a slow-moving, contemplative person, and hate being rushed. I enjoy going to the mall and spending hours just bopping about. (Sometimes I tell my wife I'm going out to do "the bear thing." She knows that I mean that I'm going to wander about blissfully until something grabs my attention, as the bears do. That's my idea of a no-stress afternoon.) So, shopping doesn't bother me; constraints on my time bother the hell out of me.
Having said all that, I must admit that I hate it when I do have my mind set on something and find that the store is out of stock, so I have to go elsewhere, or wait. Of course, it makes me uptight because I'm usually crunched for time. If I don't have to worry about the tyranny of the clock, then I don't mind so much driving to another store. "Slow down, you move too fast / You got to make the morning last..."
I wore Converse Chuck Taylor high tops when I was a kid, and started wearing them again in the 1980s, only stopping when someone convinced me that they didn't offer enough support. That explains this dream; I still love the things, I only want an improved version.
I have had some luck while shoe shopping lately. I was shivering from the cold last weekend, so I went over to Macy's and found a very comfy pair of Gold Toe premier suede slippers with real shearling padding, or somesuch. I put those things on the second I arrive at home each night. As for work shoes, I've decided that I don't want to deal with laces anymore. (That way, they're easier to kick off.) I'm wearing a pair of slip-on shoes made by a company called Sandro. They are made of distressed-looking brown leather, and feature a "comfort gel" sole. They are mighty comfortable for work shoes, although I don't know if they are in keeping with the latest styles. To me, they look like something Joe Namath would have worn, circa 1973.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
The Hapless Chef / Gumshoe
Wednesday night
Dream 1: The Hapless Chef
It was sometime in the late 1990s, and I was back on Dinwiddie Street, trying to prepare a nice dinner for my family. I had planned to serve the meal at a round table in the basement playroom, but things were not going well. For some reason I was standing next to the table, holding a gray metal piece of the grill from the bottom of the stove, and it was burning. Suddenly it was too hot to touch, so, not knowing what to do, I set it down on the table, and planned to race upstairs to get some potholders. I got to the bottom of the stairway, only to see my dad headed my way, with a plate in his hand. He was having difficulty walking, so he was moving slowly. He got halfway down the stairs and remembered that he'd forgotten something in the kitchen, and slowly turned around to walk back up there. The whole time I was blocked, of course, and worried that I'd burn the house down.
Dream 2: Gumshoe
It was nighttime in New York City, and a private detective was milling about behind someone's home. He was frustrated, as he "still hadn't found what [he was] looking for." He said, "9 million houses in the city, and I gotta pick the one without a trashcan."
*****
Stress and frustration permeate these dreams, no doubt brought on by my experiences at work. Holiday time is a pretty busy period for our business.
Dream 2: Gumshoe
I used to have this conversation with my brother Jimmie: CPC: There should be a clock, a phone and a trash can on every corner." Jimmie: "But if you have a trash can on every corner, you have to pay enough people to empty all of those trash cans."
Yeah, yeah, yeah, but I still want them.
Dream 1: The Hapless Chef
It was sometime in the late 1990s, and I was back on Dinwiddie Street, trying to prepare a nice dinner for my family. I had planned to serve the meal at a round table in the basement playroom, but things were not going well. For some reason I was standing next to the table, holding a gray metal piece of the grill from the bottom of the stove, and it was burning. Suddenly it was too hot to touch, so, not knowing what to do, I set it down on the table, and planned to race upstairs to get some potholders. I got to the bottom of the stairway, only to see my dad headed my way, with a plate in his hand. He was having difficulty walking, so he was moving slowly. He got halfway down the stairs and remembered that he'd forgotten something in the kitchen, and slowly turned around to walk back up there. The whole time I was blocked, of course, and worried that I'd burn the house down.
Dream 2: Gumshoe
It was nighttime in New York City, and a private detective was milling about behind someone's home. He was frustrated, as he "still hadn't found what [he was] looking for." He said, "9 million houses in the city, and I gotta pick the one without a trashcan."
*****
Stress and frustration permeate these dreams, no doubt brought on by my experiences at work. Holiday time is a pretty busy period for our business.
Dream 2: Gumshoe
I used to have this conversation with my brother Jimmie: CPC: There should be a clock, a phone and a trash can on every corner." Jimmie: "But if you have a trash can on every corner, you have to pay enough people to empty all of those trash cans."
Yeah, yeah, yeah, but I still want them.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
The Call / Where There's Smokes...
Tuesday night
Dream 1: The Call
It was the mid-1980s, and Dad's sister was visiting the family at our home in Arlington. Suddently the phone rang at 3 a.m. and everyone in the house was awakened. [The ring was incredibly loud, as if we were hearing a siren.] The person on the other end of the line was calling from Europe, to inform us that Prince had died. Not a prince, Prince the musician. I walked over to the den and turned on the TV to watch a retrospective about him on the news.
Dream 2: Where There's Smokes...
My family was gathered to watch some home movies. Somehow they had gotten hold of an old film of yours truly at a party with my early-80s girlfriend, Connie P. Connie was sitting in my lap, and we were making out, seemingly oblivious to the other party guests. I was wearing a yellow sleeveless T shirt, and I was holding a cigarette. My mom seemed to be a little embarrassed by the images, but she was gently poking fun at me at the same time. She said, "...And you're smoking?!" At one point Connie turned and handed a funny-looking cigarette to Brent L., who was leaning over from the seat behind us. I explained to my family that, despite appearances, it was a cigarette, and not a joint; she liked to roll her own. I'm not sure that they believed me.
*****
Dream 1: The Call
I remember Mom calling downstairs to tell me when Elvis died, although I don't really recall much about the TV coverage, though I must have watched it. I clearly recall Walter Cronkite announcing the deaths of John Lennon and, strangely enough, Led Zeppelin's John Bonham.
There were two false fire alarms at work yesterday. Very annoying they were. I'm sure that sound became the sound of the phone call in this dream.
Dream 2: Where There's Smokes...
It pains me to admit that I did, in fact, own and wear the yellow sleeveless shirt. I must have been out of my mind. Connie did smoke some very strong cigarettes -- made of cloves? They were called Gitanes, if I remember correctly. I've never smoked a cigarette/cigar/joint.
It turned out that cigarettes weren't the only thing that Connie shared with Brent. I haven't seen or talked to Connie since 1984.
Dream 1: The Call
It was the mid-1980s, and Dad's sister was visiting the family at our home in Arlington. Suddently the phone rang at 3 a.m. and everyone in the house was awakened. [The ring was incredibly loud, as if we were hearing a siren.] The person on the other end of the line was calling from Europe, to inform us that Prince had died. Not a prince, Prince the musician. I walked over to the den and turned on the TV to watch a retrospective about him on the news.
Dream 2: Where There's Smokes...
My family was gathered to watch some home movies. Somehow they had gotten hold of an old film of yours truly at a party with my early-80s girlfriend, Connie P. Connie was sitting in my lap, and we were making out, seemingly oblivious to the other party guests. I was wearing a yellow sleeveless T shirt, and I was holding a cigarette. My mom seemed to be a little embarrassed by the images, but she was gently poking fun at me at the same time. She said, "...And you're smoking?!" At one point Connie turned and handed a funny-looking cigarette to Brent L., who was leaning over from the seat behind us. I explained to my family that, despite appearances, it was a cigarette, and not a joint; she liked to roll her own. I'm not sure that they believed me.
*****
Dream 1: The Call
I remember Mom calling downstairs to tell me when Elvis died, although I don't really recall much about the TV coverage, though I must have watched it. I clearly recall Walter Cronkite announcing the deaths of John Lennon and, strangely enough, Led Zeppelin's John Bonham.
There were two false fire alarms at work yesterday. Very annoying they were. I'm sure that sound became the sound of the phone call in this dream.
Dream 2: Where There's Smokes...
It pains me to admit that I did, in fact, own and wear the yellow sleeveless shirt. I must have been out of my mind. Connie did smoke some very strong cigarettes -- made of cloves? They were called Gitanes, if I remember correctly. I've never smoked a cigarette/cigar/joint.
It turned out that cigarettes weren't the only thing that Connie shared with Brent. I haven't seen or talked to Connie since 1984.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Dr. Dolittle, I Presume / Caught / It's Nice, But...
Monday night
Dream 1: Dr. Dolittle, I Presume
My wife and I were visiting Maryland and were out having a walk in a downtown shopping district. I looked around, imagining the possibilities, and said, "I could live here. We'd be pretty close to our friends (in Virginia and D.C.). So, we moved. We bought a long, thin townhouse in the city, and I commented that I liked the views all around. One evening some old friends came over for dinner and we had a marvelous time. (The husband was actor John Cleese.)
A few weeks after we had gotten settled into our new home, my wife invited me to the location of her new job. She was involved in scientific research, but I didn't know what kind. She ushered me into a secret room in which large rectangular and square glass tanks filled a far wall. The cases contained some small apes, but there were also some large white chameleons and a gigantic albino grasshopper, which must have been four feet long. She revealed that she and her fellow scientists were teaching the animals how to talk.
*****
Dream 2: Caught
After some extensive research, I'd located an estate where one of the silliest adventure series ever had been filmed (think "Danger Island," or maybe "Land of the Lost"). The grounds were lush and green, and they surrounded a large mansion. I visited the location several times (without permission) and watered the huge, swaying palm trees to help preserve them.
One day I brought my wife to the site, and we got up the courage to knock on the front door. To our surprise we met no resistance; in fact, we were ushered in. Suddenly we found ourselves back in the 1970s, watching the filming of an episode of the show. The actors were working on an interior scene, and were massed in a stark white room with a closet, each fitted with clothing, makeup and hairstyles of the period. There was no furniture in the room. The actors went about their work purposefully and seriously, all the while seemingly aware that they were spouting some of the dumbest dialogue imaginable. My wife and I stood in the background, trying not to interrupt. Suddenly, two of the actors, a man and a woman, saw my wife, and broke character; one of them said, "Oh, Crap." They sheepishly removed their wigs and makeup to reveal that they were young versions of two people who would work with her decades later in Nashville.
*****
Dream 3: It's Nice, But...
It was a cold day, and I was visiting Martha Stewart's operation, which had recently relocated to Manhattan. Martha and I were standing outside; she was pointing out the sights and explaining the move. She said that she had the best of both worlds; her headquarters could be in the heart of the business district, yet she could live in a very nice house only 10 blocks away. I said, "Only 10 blocks from here? Wow." I was impressed.
I looked over to my right and saw a sight that intrigued me, but made me nervous. There was a long asphalt alley which formed a straight line from where I was standing. Employees parked their cars there, lined up with the front of the cars facing the side of a brick building on the right. The back end of each car leaned precariously over a sheer drop of hundreds of feet. Down below I could see a river, and beyond that, on the other side, was a marvelous row of red brick Victorian townhouses. I thought, "Geez, I'd hate to have to park there. There's no guardrail, or anything. If this parking lot ever froze, one slip and you'd be off that cliff and into the drink."
*****
Dream 1: Dr. Dolittle, I Presume
The other day my wife was sweeping our front porch and pointed out a large grasshopper who had stopped by for a visit. I was flipping the TV channels around the other night and came across one of the bad Pierce Brosnan James Bond movies. John Cleese (of "Monty Python" and "Fawlty Towers" fame) played the hapless successor to "Q," keeper of extraordinary gadgets.
Dream 2: Caught
This dream would be absolutely perfect if the man and woman who revealed themselves ended up being my wife's former Nashville boss and his wife, who are probably in their 50s. Alas, it was not to be. The young man in the dream was Kyle N., one of my wife's former students. He's a nice guy; we've played poker a few times. He wasn't born yet in the 1970s. I didn't recognize the actress who knew my wife.
The actors "broke character" because I happened across a retrospective about the Carol Burnett Show on PBS last night. No cast ever broke character more than that bunch.
Dream 3: It's Nice, But
Lately I've enjoyed flipping through a fascinating book called "Washington, D.C. Past & Present" by Peter R. Penczer (Oneonta Press, Arlington, Virginia, 1998). Mr Penczer found 127 old photographs of the District of Columbia and environs, and painstakingly took modern (1990s) photographs from the same vantage point(s). He used computer technology to crop his new photos as closely as possible to the originals. I'm sure that the row of Victorian town homes across the river in this dream resemble many of the the stately 19th century homes and businesses which were demolished in D.C. in the 20th Century. Some made way for worthy projects; others were razed for monstrosities, such as the F.B.I. building.
I'm sure that the gulf and the river boundary have a profound meaning, but I don't know what it is. An unbridgeable chasm between the present and and a more appealing past, perhaps?
Dream 1: Dr. Dolittle, I Presume
My wife and I were visiting Maryland and were out having a walk in a downtown shopping district. I looked around, imagining the possibilities, and said, "I could live here. We'd be pretty close to our friends (in Virginia and D.C.). So, we moved. We bought a long, thin townhouse in the city, and I commented that I liked the views all around. One evening some old friends came over for dinner and we had a marvelous time. (The husband was actor John Cleese.)
A few weeks after we had gotten settled into our new home, my wife invited me to the location of her new job. She was involved in scientific research, but I didn't know what kind. She ushered me into a secret room in which large rectangular and square glass tanks filled a far wall. The cases contained some small apes, but there were also some large white chameleons and a gigantic albino grasshopper, which must have been four feet long. She revealed that she and her fellow scientists were teaching the animals how to talk.
*****
Dream 2: Caught
After some extensive research, I'd located an estate where one of the silliest adventure series ever had been filmed (think "Danger Island," or maybe "Land of the Lost"). The grounds were lush and green, and they surrounded a large mansion. I visited the location several times (without permission) and watered the huge, swaying palm trees to help preserve them.
One day I brought my wife to the site, and we got up the courage to knock on the front door. To our surprise we met no resistance; in fact, we were ushered in. Suddenly we found ourselves back in the 1970s, watching the filming of an episode of the show. The actors were working on an interior scene, and were massed in a stark white room with a closet, each fitted with clothing, makeup and hairstyles of the period. There was no furniture in the room. The actors went about their work purposefully and seriously, all the while seemingly aware that they were spouting some of the dumbest dialogue imaginable. My wife and I stood in the background, trying not to interrupt. Suddenly, two of the actors, a man and a woman, saw my wife, and broke character; one of them said, "Oh, Crap." They sheepishly removed their wigs and makeup to reveal that they were young versions of two people who would work with her decades later in Nashville.
*****
Dream 3: It's Nice, But...
It was a cold day, and I was visiting Martha Stewart's operation, which had recently relocated to Manhattan. Martha and I were standing outside; she was pointing out the sights and explaining the move. She said that she had the best of both worlds; her headquarters could be in the heart of the business district, yet she could live in a very nice house only 10 blocks away. I said, "Only 10 blocks from here? Wow." I was impressed.
I looked over to my right and saw a sight that intrigued me, but made me nervous. There was a long asphalt alley which formed a straight line from where I was standing. Employees parked their cars there, lined up with the front of the cars facing the side of a brick building on the right. The back end of each car leaned precariously over a sheer drop of hundreds of feet. Down below I could see a river, and beyond that, on the other side, was a marvelous row of red brick Victorian townhouses. I thought, "Geez, I'd hate to have to park there. There's no guardrail, or anything. If this parking lot ever froze, one slip and you'd be off that cliff and into the drink."
*****
Dream 1: Dr. Dolittle, I Presume
The other day my wife was sweeping our front porch and pointed out a large grasshopper who had stopped by for a visit. I was flipping the TV channels around the other night and came across one of the bad Pierce Brosnan James Bond movies. John Cleese (of "Monty Python" and "Fawlty Towers" fame) played the hapless successor to "Q," keeper of extraordinary gadgets.
Dream 2: Caught
This dream would be absolutely perfect if the man and woman who revealed themselves ended up being my wife's former Nashville boss and his wife, who are probably in their 50s. Alas, it was not to be. The young man in the dream was Kyle N., one of my wife's former students. He's a nice guy; we've played poker a few times. He wasn't born yet in the 1970s. I didn't recognize the actress who knew my wife.
The actors "broke character" because I happened across a retrospective about the Carol Burnett Show on PBS last night. No cast ever broke character more than that bunch.
Dream 3: It's Nice, But
Lately I've enjoyed flipping through a fascinating book called "Washington, D.C. Past & Present" by Peter R. Penczer (Oneonta Press, Arlington, Virginia, 1998). Mr Penczer found 127 old photographs of the District of Columbia and environs, and painstakingly took modern (1990s) photographs from the same vantage point(s). He used computer technology to crop his new photos as closely as possible to the originals. I'm sure that the row of Victorian town homes across the river in this dream resemble many of the the stately 19th century homes and businesses which were demolished in D.C. in the 20th Century. Some made way for worthy projects; others were razed for monstrosities, such as the F.B.I. building.
I'm sure that the gulf and the river boundary have a profound meaning, but I don't know what it is. An unbridgeable chasm between the present and and a more appealing past, perhaps?
Monday, November 5, 2007
Airport Meetings
Sunday night
A 1965-era Mick Jagger was walking through an airport, wearing a smart dark pinstriped suit and a pair of pistols sticking out at his hips, mainly for show. He was hoping to buy tickets for himself and a few others to fly to Morocco, but the flight was completely sold out, so he was walking up and down the line of travelers, hoping to make a deal. Word soon got around that he was there. Jagger came upon a tall black man who was waiting in line, and instinctively stopped, looking up into his face. The tall man said, "That's a nice suit... and those pistols are new." Mick opened his coat, revealing the guns and their white handles; he was impressed that the man had noticed them. The tall man motioned Mick over to a table. It turned out that he was a reporter -- he was a trained observer. Maybe he and Mick could strike a deal. The reporter said, "I'm writing a book about rock in Hamburg. Can you tell me about your experiences there?" Mick flicked his cigarette into an ashtray and reacted with interest. He said, "Yeh -- we opened for Roy Orbison there. I'd forgotten all about that." Later, after he'd given his interview and made the deal for the tickets, he and his entourage waited in a private V.I.P. lounge for his flight to take off.
Meanwhile, I was in the same airport, waiting with my own entourage of friends to take our next journey, to London. We were wealthy playboys (and girls) and could fly wherever we wished, on a whim. Suddenly my old high school friend Sally C. burst into our V.I.P. lounge. She said, "I saw you and decided that I'm going to join you on your trip!" I rolled my eyes and said, "Great."
*****
I saw a book at Restoration Hardware this weekend called "365 Days of the Rolling Stones," which featured tons of great photographs of the band in the 1960s, some of which showed them in striped suits. The Beatles played in Hamburg, but I'm not aware that the Stones every played there.
The only photos I've ever seen of Mick Jagger with guns were from his movie role as Ned Kelly.
A 1965-era Mick Jagger was walking through an airport, wearing a smart dark pinstriped suit and a pair of pistols sticking out at his hips, mainly for show. He was hoping to buy tickets for himself and a few others to fly to Morocco, but the flight was completely sold out, so he was walking up and down the line of travelers, hoping to make a deal. Word soon got around that he was there. Jagger came upon a tall black man who was waiting in line, and instinctively stopped, looking up into his face. The tall man said, "That's a nice suit... and those pistols are new." Mick opened his coat, revealing the guns and their white handles; he was impressed that the man had noticed them. The tall man motioned Mick over to a table. It turned out that he was a reporter -- he was a trained observer. Maybe he and Mick could strike a deal. The reporter said, "I'm writing a book about rock in Hamburg. Can you tell me about your experiences there?" Mick flicked his cigarette into an ashtray and reacted with interest. He said, "Yeh -- we opened for Roy Orbison there. I'd forgotten all about that." Later, after he'd given his interview and made the deal for the tickets, he and his entourage waited in a private V.I.P. lounge for his flight to take off.
Meanwhile, I was in the same airport, waiting with my own entourage of friends to take our next journey, to London. We were wealthy playboys (and girls) and could fly wherever we wished, on a whim. Suddenly my old high school friend Sally C. burst into our V.I.P. lounge. She said, "I saw you and decided that I'm going to join you on your trip!" I rolled my eyes and said, "Great."
*****
I saw a book at Restoration Hardware this weekend called "365 Days of the Rolling Stones," which featured tons of great photographs of the band in the 1960s, some of which showed them in striped suits. The Beatles played in Hamburg, but I'm not aware that the Stones every played there.
The only photos I've ever seen of Mick Jagger with guns were from his movie role as Ned Kelly.
You've Got To Be Kidding
Saturday night
I had just finished preparing a complicated advertising agreement, and handed out copies to the sales staff at work. No sooner had I completed that task that word came down that I was to redact certain statements and add others so that the agreement could be used in China. My initial thought was, "That's not my job! Finance should be responsible for those changes; they should prepare it and send it out to everyone."
*****
One of the things that drives me crazy at work is that we'll complete a sales agreement form and hand it out to sales reps to sell it in the field, and then it is changed -- sometimes more than once -- so different versions are floating about, and everyone is confused. It ties my stomach in knots.
I had just finished preparing a complicated advertising agreement, and handed out copies to the sales staff at work. No sooner had I completed that task that word came down that I was to redact certain statements and add others so that the agreement could be used in China. My initial thought was, "That's not my job! Finance should be responsible for those changes; they should prepare it and send it out to everyone."
*****
One of the things that drives me crazy at work is that we'll complete a sales agreement form and hand it out to sales reps to sell it in the field, and then it is changed -- sometimes more than once -- so different versions are floating about, and everyone is confused. It ties my stomach in knots.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Upside-Down World
Friday night
A smart young woman was visiting her psychiatrist. One of her close relatives was a famous person who was involved in an embarrassing scandal, and was currently all over the news. She was finding, to her dismay, that many people wanted to befriend her solely due to his notoriety.
*****
I can't even bring up my e-mail anymore without being bombarded by the latest stupid celebrity scandal. I'm pretty fed up with "Comcast news," a feature I never requested or needed. Anyway, this dream is no doubt influenced by this idiot "Dog the Bounty Hunter," who, until recently, had his own TV show. Not long ago he called his son, ranting about the son's girlfriend, who is black, using the "N word" several times. Of course, the son promptly sold the tape to the National Enquirer, they put the tape on their website, and suddenly, Dog is in the doghouse with his network. "Stupid is as stupid does," as Forrest Gump said.
A smart young woman was visiting her psychiatrist. One of her close relatives was a famous person who was involved in an embarrassing scandal, and was currently all over the news. She was finding, to her dismay, that many people wanted to befriend her solely due to his notoriety.
*****
I can't even bring up my e-mail anymore without being bombarded by the latest stupid celebrity scandal. I'm pretty fed up with "Comcast news," a feature I never requested or needed. Anyway, this dream is no doubt influenced by this idiot "Dog the Bounty Hunter," who, until recently, had his own TV show. Not long ago he called his son, ranting about the son's girlfriend, who is black, using the "N word" several times. Of course, the son promptly sold the tape to the National Enquirer, they put the tape on their website, and suddenly, Dog is in the doghouse with his network. "Stupid is as stupid does," as Forrest Gump said.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Transplant / Sad
Thursday night
Dream 1: Transplant
I'd decided to move into a new apartment building, and my girlfriend was helping me move. The new place had a very nice central garden with brick walls, and I was transplanting some of my trees from the old place to the new one. That was going well, and the trees were growing like crazy -- one, which had a green trunk, almost like bamboo, suddenly towered over my head. Still, despite these successes, I was a little down or unsure, because I didn't know anyone at the new place. I walked out in the garden one day and was met with a happy surprise; my girlfriend had decorated my trees with Christmas lights. The green tree, in particular, was swathed in large, old-fashioned lights that were pinkish-purple. She walked up behind me, carrying a pot filled with yellow mums which she'd brought over from my old apartment. She said, "I thought I'd plant them near the roots of this tree." Later, we went back inside and I looked down the hallway, and saw her standing in the kitchen, making a cup of tea. I thought to myself, "There are probably other girls out there that I could date, but I could marry her."
Dream 2: Sad
My wife and I walked into a restaurant and were surprised to run into her ex, who was sitting at the bar. We could tell by his conversation that he had been there for awhile. I said, "That's how he was the last time I saw him." I held back and she went over to talk with him to see how he was doing.
*****
Dream 1: Transplant
The events recounted in this dream didn't happen, and I don't remember having that one clear moment of epiphany, but I have been married to that girlfriend for almost six and a half years. She's pretty cool.
Last night I took some of our Halloween decorations to the shed in the back yard, and paused to have a look at a tree that we transplanted the year before. I'm sure that tree and the Halloween lights inspired this dream.
Dream 2: Sad
The guy in question was impaired the last time we met at a restaurant. My wife wasn't there, but others were, and I wasn't the only one who noticed. I was surprised.
Dream 1: Transplant
I'd decided to move into a new apartment building, and my girlfriend was helping me move. The new place had a very nice central garden with brick walls, and I was transplanting some of my trees from the old place to the new one. That was going well, and the trees were growing like crazy -- one, which had a green trunk, almost like bamboo, suddenly towered over my head. Still, despite these successes, I was a little down or unsure, because I didn't know anyone at the new place. I walked out in the garden one day and was met with a happy surprise; my girlfriend had decorated my trees with Christmas lights. The green tree, in particular, was swathed in large, old-fashioned lights that were pinkish-purple. She walked up behind me, carrying a pot filled with yellow mums which she'd brought over from my old apartment. She said, "I thought I'd plant them near the roots of this tree." Later, we went back inside and I looked down the hallway, and saw her standing in the kitchen, making a cup of tea. I thought to myself, "There are probably other girls out there that I could date, but I could marry her."
Dream 2: Sad
My wife and I walked into a restaurant and were surprised to run into her ex, who was sitting at the bar. We could tell by his conversation that he had been there for awhile. I said, "That's how he was the last time I saw him." I held back and she went over to talk with him to see how he was doing.
*****
Dream 1: Transplant
The events recounted in this dream didn't happen, and I don't remember having that one clear moment of epiphany, but I have been married to that girlfriend for almost six and a half years. She's pretty cool.
Last night I took some of our Halloween decorations to the shed in the back yard, and paused to have a look at a tree that we transplanted the year before. I'm sure that tree and the Halloween lights inspired this dream.
Dream 2: Sad
The guy in question was impaired the last time we met at a restaurant. My wife wasn't there, but others were, and I wasn't the only one who noticed. I was surprised.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Trust No One / F.W.P.
Wednesday night
Dream 1: Trust No One
My wife's friend, Laura, and I worked in a section of a government agency with the highest security clearance possible. Word had recently come down that there might be a mole in our midst, and suddenly my boss and I weren't sure who to trust, including Laura and other members of our team. All of this weighed heavily on me, and I rushed to the tippy-top security room, fumbling with my key in the lock, trying to secure important documents before Laura could get there. (She had a key, too.)
A few minutes later I met up with my boss. He and I were standing outside of a conference room in a dark-paneled hallway. Other coworkers were passing by and some were milling about. He leaned over and whispered, Do you have the photographs?" I said, "I handed them to your boss." He said, "Good. And the papers?" I said, "I hid them inside the tall book on the upper shelf."
Dream 2: F.W.P.
I was walking along a path in the woods, having a very pleasant conversation with a "Smokey and the Bandit"-era Sally Field. Suddenly, we came upon a poor Southern boy, who was excitedly chasing something. He cried out, "It's a ground squirrel!" He was hoping to catch it and eat it. Sally said, "You run along -- by noon you'll have your ground squirrel!" With that, she whipped out a long string with a rock at the end of it, and began twirling it around her head. She was going to kill the squirrel for the hungry boy. I stood back and watched. I thought, "Wow. She's cute, we have fun together, she's got a lariat... I wonder if I could become a "friend with privileges?"
*****
Dream 1: Trust No One
Laura came over to our house last night to observe the Halloween festivities in our neighborhood. At one point, she, my wife and another friend took a walk to see the decorations on the next street, and I held down the fort with two neighbors. Soon we were running low on candy, and I needed to go back inside for reinforcements. Unfortunately, our 80-year-old doorknob was tricky again, and I couldn't get in the house. I'd left my keys inside, and thought I'd have to wait for my wife to get back. Finally, our neighbor realized that he had a set of keys to our place, so his wife ran and got them, and we didn't run out of candy after all. I'm sure that stress over fiddling with the lock to the front door last night factored into this dream.
It's interesting to me that on 10/18 I dreamed that I was a crook involved with Tony Soprano's gang, and was warning the other guys not to trust anyone. This time, I was a government worker who trusted no one. Hmmm...
Dream 2
My coworker Ginger and I were talking about Sally Field the other day. I mentioned that she filmed a movie in my neighborhood last year.
I told my wife about this dream this morning, and she said, "She's cute. You're cute, too, but there are levels. She's above your level." I'll say.
I'm assuming that all two of my readers will understand which privileges I was thinking about.
*****
October Dream Roundup
It seems that more celebrities than usual popped up in my dreams in October; most of them were musicians. And what's with the color blue this month? Al Gore wore a blue shirt, The center of the Soprano's new H.Q. was painted blue, Chris Matthews' L.P. was on blue vinyl, and the peacock painted on the bathroom door had bright blue feathers. ?
Friends/Family:
My wife
Andrew C.
Brent L.
Dad
Denis G.
Eddie M.
Eric M.
Jenni H.
Jimmie C.
Mom
Stuart R.
Wingard C.
Coworkers/Acquaintances:
Frank A.
Harriet T.
Melissa L.
Celebrities:
Al Gore
Alex Van Halen
Britney Spears (mentioned by Chris Matthews in "Cut Short")
Chris Matthews
Dan Akyroyd
David Lee Roth
DeForest Kelly
Dick Van Dyke
Don Henley
Eddie Van Halen
George Takei
J.C. Crowley (of Player)
James Doohan
Jennifer Aniston
John Friesen (Player)
Jonathan Cain
Leonard Nimoy
Lucille Ball
Matt Lauer
Nichelle Nichols
The Osmonds
Pat Benatar
Peter Beckett (Player)
Peter MacNicol
Paul Simon
Ron Moss (Player)
Rudy Giuliani
Tony Sirico (as Paulie Walnuts)
Walter Koenig
Wayne Cook (Player)
William Shatner
Wolfgang Van Halen
Dream 1: Trust No One
My wife's friend, Laura, and I worked in a section of a government agency with the highest security clearance possible. Word had recently come down that there might be a mole in our midst, and suddenly my boss and I weren't sure who to trust, including Laura and other members of our team. All of this weighed heavily on me, and I rushed to the tippy-top security room, fumbling with my key in the lock, trying to secure important documents before Laura could get there. (She had a key, too.)
A few minutes later I met up with my boss. He and I were standing outside of a conference room in a dark-paneled hallway. Other coworkers were passing by and some were milling about. He leaned over and whispered, Do you have the photographs?" I said, "I handed them to your boss." He said, "Good. And the papers?" I said, "I hid them inside the tall book on the upper shelf."
Dream 2: F.W.P.
I was walking along a path in the woods, having a very pleasant conversation with a "Smokey and the Bandit"-era Sally Field. Suddenly, we came upon a poor Southern boy, who was excitedly chasing something. He cried out, "It's a ground squirrel!" He was hoping to catch it and eat it. Sally said, "You run along -- by noon you'll have your ground squirrel!" With that, she whipped out a long string with a rock at the end of it, and began twirling it around her head. She was going to kill the squirrel for the hungry boy. I stood back and watched. I thought, "Wow. She's cute, we have fun together, she's got a lariat... I wonder if I could become a "friend with privileges?"
*****
Dream 1: Trust No One
Laura came over to our house last night to observe the Halloween festivities in our neighborhood. At one point, she, my wife and another friend took a walk to see the decorations on the next street, and I held down the fort with two neighbors. Soon we were running low on candy, and I needed to go back inside for reinforcements. Unfortunately, our 80-year-old doorknob was tricky again, and I couldn't get in the house. I'd left my keys inside, and thought I'd have to wait for my wife to get back. Finally, our neighbor realized that he had a set of keys to our place, so his wife ran and got them, and we didn't run out of candy after all. I'm sure that stress over fiddling with the lock to the front door last night factored into this dream.
It's interesting to me that on 10/18 I dreamed that I was a crook involved with Tony Soprano's gang, and was warning the other guys not to trust anyone. This time, I was a government worker who trusted no one. Hmmm...
Dream 2
My coworker Ginger and I were talking about Sally Field the other day. I mentioned that she filmed a movie in my neighborhood last year.
I told my wife about this dream this morning, and she said, "She's cute. You're cute, too, but there are levels. She's above your level." I'll say.
I'm assuming that all two of my readers will understand which privileges I was thinking about.
*****
October Dream Roundup
It seems that more celebrities than usual popped up in my dreams in October; most of them were musicians. And what's with the color blue this month? Al Gore wore a blue shirt, The center of the Soprano's new H.Q. was painted blue, Chris Matthews' L.P. was on blue vinyl, and the peacock painted on the bathroom door had bright blue feathers. ?
Friends/Family:
My wife
Andrew C.
Brent L.
Dad
Denis G.
Eddie M.
Eric M.
Jenni H.
Jimmie C.
Mom
Stuart R.
Wingard C.
Coworkers/Acquaintances:
Frank A.
Harriet T.
Melissa L.
Celebrities:
Al Gore
Alex Van Halen
Britney Spears (mentioned by Chris Matthews in "Cut Short")
Chris Matthews
Dan Akyroyd
David Lee Roth
DeForest Kelly
Dick Van Dyke
Don Henley
Eddie Van Halen
George Takei
J.C. Crowley (of Player)
James Doohan
Jennifer Aniston
John Friesen (Player)
Jonathan Cain
Leonard Nimoy
Lucille Ball
Matt Lauer
Nichelle Nichols
The Osmonds
Pat Benatar
Peter Beckett (Player)
Peter MacNicol
Paul Simon
Ron Moss (Player)
Rudy Giuliani
Tony Sirico (as Paulie Walnuts)
Walter Koenig
Wayne Cook (Player)
William Shatner
Wolfgang Van Halen
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