Saturday night
My friend Jason Bourne and I were in Paris, and were sharing a room in a really fancy hotel. I woke up one morning and noticed that he wasn't around. I got dressed and walked down the long marble steps to the street, where Jason was waiting for public transportation. He didn't speak to me, but that was cool -- he didn't have to; he had a job to do, and he was "all business" at that moment, wearing sunglasses and carrying a backpack. Truth be told, I was probably better off not knowing what was going on. As I turned to walk back up the stairs, I had the gut feeling that he was going to rub somebody out.
I, on the other hand, had a completely different plan for my day, and I was really excited about it: I was going to visit the Louvre Museum for the first time. I stopped in the lobby, and felt pretty giddy about being in Paris, and about all its possibilities. I spoke to one of the people behind the counter: "The cooler weather here is fantastic. Back home right now, it's probably over 90 degrees."
I had a little trepidation about the language barrier as I headed out on my own, but figured it would be OK. I knew that I couldn't possibly see everything worth seeing at the Louvre in one day, but hey -- it was the Louvre. Anything I could see there would be wonderful!
*****
How very odd that I could knowingly watch my pal go off to kill someone, and still feel so wonderful about the plans for my day. I wonder if there's some hidden metaphor there. If so, I have not yet figured it out. Maybe I'm sending myself a message about the war in Iraq. My government is killing a bunch of people in my name while I'm out every day enjoying myself, and not paying enough attention to the matter. I'm reminded of one of the better songs by The Police: "...What does it have to do with me?/What is my reaction?/What should it be?/Confronted by this latest atrocity..."
I should be protesting, and I'm not.
Paris does figure in at least one of the "Bourne" films.
My friend Eddie M. hosted the latest round of our yearly poker tournament this month back in Virginia, and he showed us some film footage of a recent whirlwind trip that his family had taken to London, Paris and Rome. I hope to see all of those cities someday.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Alison
Thursday night
Alison Krauss was giving me a ride in her car. I was in the front passenger seat, and was talking about her career, but in the third person, as if she wasn't there. I said, "I like Alison Krauss'es music, but I love her early records. She was a child prodigy. Have you heard her album 'I've Got That Old Feeling'? She really belts out her vocals on that one."
Eventually we got to her home, which was next door to mine. My wife joined us there for dinner, and we had a nice time.
Later, I was at work (at my former job in Nashville), and I was talking to my boss, Ken P. I bragged, "Alison Krauss helped us move into our house. We piled a bunch of our stuff into her yellow Volkswagen Beetle."
*****
Alison Krauss does live in Nashville, and I've seen her a few times, but don't know her, and she doesn't live next door. The bits about the dinner, the move and the VW are all bogus.
Ken P. was my boss for a short time. He was a big music fan, but was also a celebrity hound and unabashed name-dropper. Sometimes he and I got into a game of celebrity one-upmanship, trying to impress each other with the concerts we'd seen, or musicians we'd met. It all seems rather silly and pathetic now. I didn't like those aspects of his personality, and thought to myself that it was time to grow up and change those aspects of mine.
Chasing celebrities, getting autographs and bragging about it is a young person's game, anyway. I still have a great deal of respect for some musicians, but nowadays I try to see them as regular people with talent as opposed to superheroes or something. It probably helps that in Nashville it's not considered cool to bug famous people -- instead, the thing to do is to let them be.
The rather amusing postscript to this story is that Ken ended up getting a pretty important newspaper job, which means that he's famous now -- in some circles, anyway. So, when I type up my September Dream Blog Roundup, do I list him as a coworker/acquaintance, or as a celeb?
Alison Krauss was giving me a ride in her car. I was in the front passenger seat, and was talking about her career, but in the third person, as if she wasn't there. I said, "I like Alison Krauss'es music, but I love her early records. She was a child prodigy. Have you heard her album 'I've Got That Old Feeling'? She really belts out her vocals on that one."
Eventually we got to her home, which was next door to mine. My wife joined us there for dinner, and we had a nice time.
Later, I was at work (at my former job in Nashville), and I was talking to my boss, Ken P. I bragged, "Alison Krauss helped us move into our house. We piled a bunch of our stuff into her yellow Volkswagen Beetle."
*****
Alison Krauss does live in Nashville, and I've seen her a few times, but don't know her, and she doesn't live next door. The bits about the dinner, the move and the VW are all bogus.
Ken P. was my boss for a short time. He was a big music fan, but was also a celebrity hound and unabashed name-dropper. Sometimes he and I got into a game of celebrity one-upmanship, trying to impress each other with the concerts we'd seen, or musicians we'd met. It all seems rather silly and pathetic now. I didn't like those aspects of his personality, and thought to myself that it was time to grow up and change those aspects of mine.
Chasing celebrities, getting autographs and bragging about it is a young person's game, anyway. I still have a great deal of respect for some musicians, but nowadays I try to see them as regular people with talent as opposed to superheroes or something. It probably helps that in Nashville it's not considered cool to bug famous people -- instead, the thing to do is to let them be.
The rather amusing postscript to this story is that Ken ended up getting a pretty important newspaper job, which means that he's famous now -- in some circles, anyway. So, when I type up my September Dream Blog Roundup, do I list him as a coworker/acquaintance, or as a celeb?
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Aunt Bee, Appraiser
Wednesday night
Aunt Bee (from "The Andy Griffith Show") ran her own barber shop, and I came in for a trim. I brought with me a rare 45 r.p.m. E.P. (extended play) by Elvis Presley, called "This Boy," which I'd recently bought; I wanted to ask Bee about it, to see if it was really valuable. (The title was written in large yellow letters superimposed on a color photo of Elvis, but the cover was scuffed up to the point that some of the letters were practically rubbed away.)
I showed the record to Aunt Bee. She was so excited about being asked to express her opinion about something that she went into a complete tizzy, running around saying, "I've never done this before!" "Oh My!" etc. I sat in the barber chair and watched her carry on. Finally, I'd had enough and said, "Aunt Bee, I just wanted a haircut!"
As I waited for her to calm down, I studied the cover of the E.P. The missing type bugged me, but the photo was in pretty good shape. I decided that I'd find another copy on e-bay for my collection. I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the front cardboard cover into a neat square and left it on the table. She could hang it on her wall.
*****
The E.P. that I showed Aunt Bee was actually "Jailhouse Rock," (except for the new title) from 1957, featuring a nice color photo of E in a striped gray jacket with black collar, on a red background. "This Boy" is a song that Elvis never recorded; it's a favorite Beatles B-side from 1963.
I spent an awful lot of money over the past few years buying up about 80 Elvis Presley picture sleeve singles and E.P.s, and plan to frame them someday and hang them in my basement.
I own the first five seasons of "The Andy Griffith Show" on DVD. Those are the classic black and white episodes, up until Barney Fife left. The following color episodes are abysmal, and seem to focus on Aunt Bee all the time: she learns to fly a plane, she opens a Chinese restaurant, she is the one dissenting juror keeping a young Jack Nicholson from being convicted in a court case. "Dreadful," as Preston would say.
By the way, it is "Aunt Bee," not "Aunt Bea." I double checked in my copy of "The Definitive Andy Griffith Show Reference."
Aunt Bee (from "The Andy Griffith Show") ran her own barber shop, and I came in for a trim. I brought with me a rare 45 r.p.m. E.P. (extended play) by Elvis Presley, called "This Boy," which I'd recently bought; I wanted to ask Bee about it, to see if it was really valuable. (The title was written in large yellow letters superimposed on a color photo of Elvis, but the cover was scuffed up to the point that some of the letters were practically rubbed away.)
I showed the record to Aunt Bee. She was so excited about being asked to express her opinion about something that she went into a complete tizzy, running around saying, "I've never done this before!" "Oh My!" etc. I sat in the barber chair and watched her carry on. Finally, I'd had enough and said, "Aunt Bee, I just wanted a haircut!"
As I waited for her to calm down, I studied the cover of the E.P. The missing type bugged me, but the photo was in pretty good shape. I decided that I'd find another copy on e-bay for my collection. I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the front cardboard cover into a neat square and left it on the table. She could hang it on her wall.
*****
The E.P. that I showed Aunt Bee was actually "Jailhouse Rock," (except for the new title) from 1957, featuring a nice color photo of E in a striped gray jacket with black collar, on a red background. "This Boy" is a song that Elvis never recorded; it's a favorite Beatles B-side from 1963.
I spent an awful lot of money over the past few years buying up about 80 Elvis Presley picture sleeve singles and E.P.s, and plan to frame them someday and hang them in my basement.
I own the first five seasons of "The Andy Griffith Show" on DVD. Those are the classic black and white episodes, up until Barney Fife left. The following color episodes are abysmal, and seem to focus on Aunt Bee all the time: she learns to fly a plane, she opens a Chinese restaurant, she is the one dissenting juror keeping a young Jack Nicholson from being convicted in a court case. "Dreadful," as Preston would say.
By the way, it is "Aunt Bee," not "Aunt Bea." I double checked in my copy of "The Definitive Andy Griffith Show Reference."
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
45s / Don't Sit So Close to Me
Dream 1: 45s
I was in a used record store, and was about to buy a large stack of 45 r.p.m. records. My friend Kels was behind the counter. He said, "Due to the fact that you're buying so many, I was able to get you a discount. You get all of these for $20 bucks."
Dream 2: Don't Sit So Close to Me
My boss, Jennie, was leading a meeting that combined several sales teams from work. She stood at the front of a very long, narrow table, with employees sitting on both sides. (Imagine the tables in the dining hall in the "Harry Potter" movies, and you'll get the idea.) Jennie started off by saying, "So, how was your weekend?" One of the reps, Ashley, said, "Some 40-year-old guy hit on me! Ewwwwwwwwwwwww!" Everyone laughed, particularly those of us who were over 40, such as Jennie and myself.
Later, the sales teams broke up into discussion groups, and were sitting on the floor. It was crowded, and, as one of my coworkers crawled by looking for a seat, she stopped, looked into my eyes, smiled, and said, "Hey." I got a definite buzz from being in such close proximity to her, and it alarmed me. I thought to myself, "I'd better back up," and I did.
*****
I'm surrounded by 20-somethings at work, and we're friendly, but that's all there is to it. I wonder if my subconscious is telling me that it's time for that midlife crisis that we all hear about.
I was in a used record store, and was about to buy a large stack of 45 r.p.m. records. My friend Kels was behind the counter. He said, "Due to the fact that you're buying so many, I was able to get you a discount. You get all of these for $20 bucks."
Dream 2: Don't Sit So Close to Me
My boss, Jennie, was leading a meeting that combined several sales teams from work. She stood at the front of a very long, narrow table, with employees sitting on both sides. (Imagine the tables in the dining hall in the "Harry Potter" movies, and you'll get the idea.) Jennie started off by saying, "So, how was your weekend?" One of the reps, Ashley, said, "Some 40-year-old guy hit on me! Ewwwwwwwwwwwww!" Everyone laughed, particularly those of us who were over 40, such as Jennie and myself.
Later, the sales teams broke up into discussion groups, and were sitting on the floor. It was crowded, and, as one of my coworkers crawled by looking for a seat, she stopped, looked into my eyes, smiled, and said, "Hey." I got a definite buzz from being in such close proximity to her, and it alarmed me. I thought to myself, "I'd better back up," and I did.
*****
I'm surrounded by 20-somethings at work, and we're friendly, but that's all there is to it. I wonder if my subconscious is telling me that it's time for that midlife crisis that we all hear about.
Monday, September 24, 2007
The Terror of Suburbia
Sunday night
The eyes of the nation were glued to their TV screens to witness America's latest venture into space, and my eyes were no exception. We watched as a lunar module approached a previously unexplored planet; down it went, through the blackness, approaching its intended landing site. Suddenly something went wrong, and the spacecraft veered off-course. I gasped, as I'm sure many people did. How could this happen, after all of the money that was spent -- and after all of the careful plans that had been made? Where would it land?
The module landed in what looked like a pleasant American suburb; so pleasant that it seemed to be a throwback to another time. A dog and a cat looked on inquisitively at the thing that had just fallen from the sky. Unfortunately for the astronauts, their troubles had just begun. They had landed safely, but somehow a balloon (the size of one that might be found at a child's birthday party) escaped from one of the hatches; it contained miniature United States astronauts. Now that they were untethered, there was no telling where they would end up; they simply floated away, out of control. It was a serious disaster for the space program and for the country.
*****
We went to the movies last weekend (to see "Eastern Promises" -- very good, but quite bloody in places) and I happened to notice a poster for a forthcoming documentary called "In The Shadow of the Moon," presented by Ron Howard. This dream appears to have mixed that poster with my memories of the classic French film "The Red Balloon" (1956) which I saw in elementary school. It might also mix in an episode or two of "The Twilight Zone," particularly the one in which a kindly old lady who lives in a farm house is terrorized by tiny aliens. Of course, at the end, she gets up the courage to crush their spaceship with a broom, and in the last shot we see that the spacecraft says "USA" on the side. One of the astronauts is heard radioing back home: "Incredible race of giants here!"
The eyes of the nation were glued to their TV screens to witness America's latest venture into space, and my eyes were no exception. We watched as a lunar module approached a previously unexplored planet; down it went, through the blackness, approaching its intended landing site. Suddenly something went wrong, and the spacecraft veered off-course. I gasped, as I'm sure many people did. How could this happen, after all of the money that was spent -- and after all of the careful plans that had been made? Where would it land?
The module landed in what looked like a pleasant American suburb; so pleasant that it seemed to be a throwback to another time. A dog and a cat looked on inquisitively at the thing that had just fallen from the sky. Unfortunately for the astronauts, their troubles had just begun. They had landed safely, but somehow a balloon (the size of one that might be found at a child's birthday party) escaped from one of the hatches; it contained miniature United States astronauts. Now that they were untethered, there was no telling where they would end up; they simply floated away, out of control. It was a serious disaster for the space program and for the country.
*****
We went to the movies last weekend (to see "Eastern Promises" -- very good, but quite bloody in places) and I happened to notice a poster for a forthcoming documentary called "In The Shadow of the Moon," presented by Ron Howard. This dream appears to have mixed that poster with my memories of the classic French film "The Red Balloon" (1956) which I saw in elementary school. It might also mix in an episode or two of "The Twilight Zone," particularly the one in which a kindly old lady who lives in a farm house is terrorized by tiny aliens. Of course, at the end, she gets up the courage to crush their spaceship with a broom, and in the last shot we see that the spacecraft says "USA" on the side. One of the astronauts is heard radioing back home: "Incredible race of giants here!"
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Birds in the Trees / The Number
Saturday night
Dream 1: Birds in the Trees
I was riding in a car with some other people, and I was in the right front passenger seat. It was a nice sunny day, and as we passed a long strand of green trees to my right, I was pointing out birds to my fellow passengers. At one point one of them said, "What's that?" I looked up to see a beautiful Brown Thrasher sitting on the end of one of the branches. I knew what it was, but for some reason I was drawing a blank, and couldn't remember the name of the bird. I felt like a batter who struck out when the pressure was on; in other words, I choked.
Dream 2: The Number
I was back at work, toiling away on my list of employees, their phone numbers and other assorted information. As I stared at my printout I realized something that I hadn't noticed before: the sales rep. # for every single employee was 1704.
*****
Dream 1: Birds in the Trees
My wife and I have been discussing my memory lately, or lack thereof. It's a source of constant frustration to her, particularly when I'm driving her to work in the morning, and she tells me where she'd like to be dropped off. Frequently I'll ask her 10 or 15 minutes later, "Where would you like to be dropped off today?" I suggest that I might have the beginnings of Alzheimer's or something, but more likely than not, I'm thinking about CD projects or my own upcoming workday, and not paying enough attention to details of our conversations. My friend Preston is a reporter, and, as such, he always carries a small spiral notepad. I think I should probably carry one at all times, to help me remember the important stuff.
This dream probably harkens back to an incident that embarrassed me some 12 or 13 years ago. I was getting into bird watching in the 1990s. One time I was out with my then-friend Tricia and my brother, Andrew, when Andrew noticed some birds flying by. He said, "What are those?" I squinted to see them, but couldn't tell; they were too far away and in direct sunlight. Besides, the coloration wasn't distinct. As I looked through my binoculars, Tricia became impatient. She said, "He doesn't know. C'mon, let's go." She was definitely putting me down, and it stung. It still stings, and that's the feeling expressed in Dream 1.
Brown Thrashers are fairly common, but I've only seen two or three of them. The first one I ever saw was pecking around in the grass in Shenandoah National Park in VA. I saw another one several years ago here in Nashville, in a neighbor's front yard. The Brown Thrasher is a fairly large thrush, with a brown back, long brown tail, curved bill and white breast with prominent brown spots.
I enjoy bird watching, but I'm not sure that I have the patience to be really good at it. In my opinon, there's just way too many brown birds. I frequently say, "If a bird is big, or brightly colored, I can identify it. If it's small and brown, I don't know what the hell it is."
I may have thought about the Brown Thrasher because I'm working on my third straight vintage Springbok jigsaw puzzle, all of which feature pictures of birds, including Brown Thrashers.
Dream 2: The Number
1704?
Dream 1: Birds in the Trees
I was riding in a car with some other people, and I was in the right front passenger seat. It was a nice sunny day, and as we passed a long strand of green trees to my right, I was pointing out birds to my fellow passengers. At one point one of them said, "What's that?" I looked up to see a beautiful Brown Thrasher sitting on the end of one of the branches. I knew what it was, but for some reason I was drawing a blank, and couldn't remember the name of the bird. I felt like a batter who struck out when the pressure was on; in other words, I choked.
Dream 2: The Number
I was back at work, toiling away on my list of employees, their phone numbers and other assorted information. As I stared at my printout I realized something that I hadn't noticed before: the sales rep. # for every single employee was 1704.
*****
Dream 1: Birds in the Trees
My wife and I have been discussing my memory lately, or lack thereof. It's a source of constant frustration to her, particularly when I'm driving her to work in the morning, and she tells me where she'd like to be dropped off. Frequently I'll ask her 10 or 15 minutes later, "Where would you like to be dropped off today?" I suggest that I might have the beginnings of Alzheimer's or something, but more likely than not, I'm thinking about CD projects or my own upcoming workday, and not paying enough attention to details of our conversations. My friend Preston is a reporter, and, as such, he always carries a small spiral notepad. I think I should probably carry one at all times, to help me remember the important stuff.
This dream probably harkens back to an incident that embarrassed me some 12 or 13 years ago. I was getting into bird watching in the 1990s. One time I was out with my then-friend Tricia and my brother, Andrew, when Andrew noticed some birds flying by. He said, "What are those?" I squinted to see them, but couldn't tell; they were too far away and in direct sunlight. Besides, the coloration wasn't distinct. As I looked through my binoculars, Tricia became impatient. She said, "He doesn't know. C'mon, let's go." She was definitely putting me down, and it stung. It still stings, and that's the feeling expressed in Dream 1.
Brown Thrashers are fairly common, but I've only seen two or three of them. The first one I ever saw was pecking around in the grass in Shenandoah National Park in VA. I saw another one several years ago here in Nashville, in a neighbor's front yard. The Brown Thrasher is a fairly large thrush, with a brown back, long brown tail, curved bill and white breast with prominent brown spots.
I enjoy bird watching, but I'm not sure that I have the patience to be really good at it. In my opinon, there's just way too many brown birds. I frequently say, "If a bird is big, or brightly colored, I can identify it. If it's small and brown, I don't know what the hell it is."
I may have thought about the Brown Thrasher because I'm working on my third straight vintage Springbok jigsaw puzzle, all of which feature pictures of birds, including Brown Thrashers.
Dream 2: The Number
1704?
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Pop Quiz
Friday night
I was sitting in my office at work when Suzanne B., the director of our department, walked in. I wasn't intimidated or afraid of her, but she's pretty high up on the food chain, and this was a rare visit. She looked around the room; the books on the shelves and pictures on the walls reflected my tastes and interests, particularly American history and rock and roll music.
Suzanne glanced down at my desk, and saw that I was working on updating a spreadsheet that listed employees' names, phone numbers and job titles. She grabbed my latest printout and decided to quiz me. She said, "Who is the assistant to (one of the managers)?" Someone overheard the question and protested, saying that it was unfair that I'd be expected to memorize all of the employees. She responded, "He's going to need to know this." I didn't know the answer, so I replied with a question of my own: "Who was the assistant to President Grant?"
*****
Suzanne is the director of our department at work, and I am working on updating the spreadsheet mentioned above. Unfortunately, I don't have an office; I'm relegated to a cramped cubicle.
I asked my wife what she thinks this dream means. This is her interpretation:
"If I can get people to acknowledge that what I have to offer is important, then I will be willing to meet them halfway to acknowledge that what the work world thinks is important is important."
I was sitting in my office at work when Suzanne B., the director of our department, walked in. I wasn't intimidated or afraid of her, but she's pretty high up on the food chain, and this was a rare visit. She looked around the room; the books on the shelves and pictures on the walls reflected my tastes and interests, particularly American history and rock and roll music.
Suzanne glanced down at my desk, and saw that I was working on updating a spreadsheet that listed employees' names, phone numbers and job titles. She grabbed my latest printout and decided to quiz me. She said, "Who is the assistant to (one of the managers)?" Someone overheard the question and protested, saying that it was unfair that I'd be expected to memorize all of the employees. She responded, "He's going to need to know this." I didn't know the answer, so I replied with a question of my own: "Who was the assistant to President Grant?"
*****
Suzanne is the director of our department at work, and I am working on updating the spreadsheet mentioned above. Unfortunately, I don't have an office; I'm relegated to a cramped cubicle.
I asked my wife what she thinks this dream means. This is her interpretation:
"If I can get people to acknowledge that what I have to offer is important, then I will be willing to meet them halfway to acknowledge that what the work world thinks is important is important."
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Shirts
Tuesday night
I was standing in my room looking at two stacks of folded shirts, and I didn't like my choices. The ones on the left were white; the ones on the right were dark beige, almost brown. I frowned and said, "I'm such a preppie."
*****
Actually, I'm not a preppie at all, although I did wear a short-sleeved shirt with two buttons at the collar to the poker tournament.
I've been burning the midnight and post-midnight oil something fierce lately, working on projects at home. It goes without saying that when I don't sleep much, I don't dream much...
I was standing in my room looking at two stacks of folded shirts, and I didn't like my choices. The ones on the left were white; the ones on the right were dark beige, almost brown. I frowned and said, "I'm such a preppie."
*****
Actually, I'm not a preppie at all, although I did wear a short-sleeved shirt with two buttons at the collar to the poker tournament.
I've been burning the midnight and post-midnight oil something fierce lately, working on projects at home. It goes without saying that when I don't sleep much, I don't dream much...
Monday, September 17, 2007
Kick
Monday afternoon
I was visiting with my friend, Preston, at his home in Manassas, VA, and was punting a football to him in his backyard.
*****
I really was visiting with Preston and his family this past weekend. Preston and I were throwing a football in his backyard on Sunday afternoon, and I punted the ball to him a few times.
There is nothing particularly noteworthy about this dream except for where I was while I was dreaming; I was flying on a Southwest Airlines flight from Baltimore to Nashville, and woke myself up by making a kicking motion with my right leg. Fortunately, I didn't kick the seat in front of me, and nobody noticed. It's probably a good thing I didn't get around to acting out the passing motion.
As far as I know, this is the first dream I've ever had on an airplane.
I was visiting with my friend, Preston, at his home in Manassas, VA, and was punting a football to him in his backyard.
*****
I really was visiting with Preston and his family this past weekend. Preston and I were throwing a football in his backyard on Sunday afternoon, and I punted the ball to him a few times.
There is nothing particularly noteworthy about this dream except for where I was while I was dreaming; I was flying on a Southwest Airlines flight from Baltimore to Nashville, and woke myself up by making a kicking motion with my right leg. Fortunately, I didn't kick the seat in front of me, and nobody noticed. It's probably a good thing I didn't get around to acting out the passing motion.
As far as I know, this is the first dream I've ever had on an airplane.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Coitus Interruptus
Thursday night
I was in my early 20s again, and my friend Polly and I were at the beginning of a torrid romance. We had gone back to an apartment or townhouse that I shared with other people, but apparently couldn't wait to get to my room; we chose the first room that was available. Things were going well; she was smitten; she was willing; I was at my most suave and debonair. We kissed, as she backed up toward a long table. She suggested that we could get together there; she'd never done it on a table before. I was game, but first I had to close a large wooden sliding door that separated our room from onlookers in other parts of the house. I tried to slide the door over several times, but couldn't get it to latch; it kept bouncing back. This was not helping the overall mood that had been created up till that moment. Finally, Polly had had enough, and got up off the table to take charge. She picked up the wall phone and called the super, saying in a strong voice, "I need somebody to come up here and fix this thing."
*****
Polly is a dear old friend from high school days. She and I never dated or "got it together," although, interestingly enough, she did accompany my twin brother to the high school prom. She just re-joined an e-mail list serv that I share with my brothers and several good friends.
This dream has the makings of a pretty good sexual farce. All that's missing is a sarcastic old-timer, who might comment, "Can't get the ol' deadbolt in the lock, eh?"
I was in my early 20s again, and my friend Polly and I were at the beginning of a torrid romance. We had gone back to an apartment or townhouse that I shared with other people, but apparently couldn't wait to get to my room; we chose the first room that was available. Things were going well; she was smitten; she was willing; I was at my most suave and debonair. We kissed, as she backed up toward a long table. She suggested that we could get together there; she'd never done it on a table before. I was game, but first I had to close a large wooden sliding door that separated our room from onlookers in other parts of the house. I tried to slide the door over several times, but couldn't get it to latch; it kept bouncing back. This was not helping the overall mood that had been created up till that moment. Finally, Polly had had enough, and got up off the table to take charge. She picked up the wall phone and called the super, saying in a strong voice, "I need somebody to come up here and fix this thing."
*****
Polly is a dear old friend from high school days. She and I never dated or "got it together," although, interestingly enough, she did accompany my twin brother to the high school prom. She just re-joined an e-mail list serv that I share with my brothers and several good friends.
This dream has the makings of a pretty good sexual farce. All that's missing is a sarcastic old-timer, who might comment, "Can't get the ol' deadbolt in the lock, eh?"
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Just Joking / School? / Homecoming
Saturday night
Dream 1: Just Joking
My sister-in-law's dad, Steve W., was always belting out Frank Sinatra songs. My brother, Andrew, and his wife, Susan, found out that a new film about Sinatra's life was coming to a local theater, so they decided to surprise Steve by treating him to some tickets. It turned out that he didn't want them. Steve had never liked Sinatra; he sang his songs in an exaggerated style only to make fun of him.
Dream 2: School?
My wife's coworker, Matt Servitto (Agent Harris on "The Sopranos") heard that I was interested in going back to school, so he gave me a brochure from his alma mater, the University of Idaho. My wife and I looked it over, but found the information to be sobering. It would cost $12,000 annually, and I would be in school 10 months out of the year. She said, "I don't know..." and I agreed; I responded, "Hello, George Mason."
Dream 3: Homecoming
My wife and I were attending a large outdoor picnic at the Parthenon in downtown Nashville. We were seated at one of many picnic tables in a large open-air shed, meaning that there was a roof covering all of the tables, but the picnic area was open on all sides, so people could come and go as they pleased. We were there for the annual Nashville homecoming celebration, and were anticipating the announcement of this year's homecoming king and queen. My wife and I took it with a grain of salt; we didn't really believe in this sort of thing, but attended more out of curiosity.
I noticed that a program for the event was lying on our table, so I picked it up and began reading about the ceremony and its traditions. Homecoming king and queen applicants had to pay a hefty entry fee even to be considered, and the results were shrouded in secrecy until the unveiling at the picnic. Then I got to a paragraph that made me laugh out loud: the Nashville homecoming queen of 1825 was disqualified for having six ears! My wife and I were enjoying the ridiculousness of the situation when I noticed that the guy seated across from us was on the same wavelength. He had a sense of irony, and he found the paragraph and the whole ceremony to be absurd and preposterous, too. We struck up a conversation with him, and he mentioned his wife; he said, "It's just the two of us here," meaning that they had no children, either. I thought to myself, "Maybe we could become friends with these people."
*****
Dream 1: Just Joking
I'm working hard to prepare some discs that are part of my ongoing CD compilation series, and lately I've been searching for "one more" good song that I've overlooked from 1955-1984. I've nominated a few, and tested them, but as of last night, none were found to be "good enough." Last night I was belting out "Misty" by Johnny Mathis (a song that made it onto one of my comps years ago) while buttering bread and getting my dinner ready. I hit so many terrible notes that both my wife and I burst out laughing. She suggested that I should record my own singing, include it as a surprise bonus track, and be done with it. It's a cute idea, but it wouldn't wear well over time, so I'm going to pass.
Anyway, my mangling of Johnny Mathis standards morphed into Steve's mangling of Sinatra tunes last night.
Dream 2: School?
My wife has just gotten a really good new job, so that means that our stay in Nashville will be extended, possibly by as much as five years. We've been having conversations about how I can develop some friendships and really "live" here, as opposed to just existing here, looking forward to moving back home to Virginia. I suppose that last night I was proposing to myself that I could really make something of those years if I decided to go back to school and get a degree. I've thought about it from time to time. It probably came up because yesterday I checked out my friend Ed B.'s page on MySpace, or FaceBook, or whatever it is, and noticed that he'd had several false starts in college, but got degrees later in life, both from community college and Strayer University in D.C. By the way, George Mason is a college in Fairfax, Virginia. I was surmising in the dream that it would be cheaper to attend George Mason than the University of Idaho. I'm quite sure that both would cost a whole lot more than $12,000 a year.
This dream was also influenced by a compilation program of "A Prairie Home Companion" that I heard on the radio yesterday; it culled together skits and songs that pertained to going back to school. One of the comedy bits warned today's 7th graders that they will probably have to work in the mines to pay off their million-dollar college loans.
I have no idea where actor Matt Servitto went to school, or if he did go at all. I'm guessing that I thought of Idaho because scandal-plagued Senator Larry Craig hails from that state, and he's been all over the news lately.
Dream 3: Homecoming
I've had some funny dreams in my time, but it's hard to beat one about an inbred homecoming queen with six ears. When I got up this morning, I told my wife this story, and followed up by saying, "Now I can see why people might think that I'm making these things up while I'm awake." I suppose that this was just a nasty dig at Nashville, but it sure cracked me up. As far as I know there is no such thing as a homecoming pageant at the Parthenon. I probably read something in passing about a homecoming ceremony at a local high school, maybe while flipping through old yearbooks at an antique shop.
I went in to work for a little while yesterday, and as I parked the car in the lot across from the office, I looked over at the old train station building, which was remodeled many years ago into a hotel. My wife and I spent a weekend in that hotel back in 2000. My employer in Virginia was trying to talk me into transferring here, and we stayed there while we drove around and got to know a little bit about the city. Yesterday I was remembering the way the building looked 7 years ago; there used to be a historic train shed adjacent to the hotel, which amounted to a one long roof which covered the trains and protected them from inclement weather. It's gone now, removed to make way for a parking lot. That's somebody's idea of progress, I guess. Anyway, that train shed turned into the covered picnic shed in this dream. There is no permanent covered shed at the Parthenon, although they have events there in temporary tents all the time.
I didn't recognize the fellow who sat across the table from me, but it's clear that he was a kindred spirit. Even while I was sleeping I was thinking about developing friendships with people who are close to my age, and with whom I share some things in common.
Dream 1: Just Joking
My sister-in-law's dad, Steve W., was always belting out Frank Sinatra songs. My brother, Andrew, and his wife, Susan, found out that a new film about Sinatra's life was coming to a local theater, so they decided to surprise Steve by treating him to some tickets. It turned out that he didn't want them. Steve had never liked Sinatra; he sang his songs in an exaggerated style only to make fun of him.
Dream 2: School?
My wife's coworker, Matt Servitto (Agent Harris on "The Sopranos") heard that I was interested in going back to school, so he gave me a brochure from his alma mater, the University of Idaho. My wife and I looked it over, but found the information to be sobering. It would cost $12,000 annually, and I would be in school 10 months out of the year. She said, "I don't know..." and I agreed; I responded, "Hello, George Mason."
Dream 3: Homecoming
My wife and I were attending a large outdoor picnic at the Parthenon in downtown Nashville. We were seated at one of many picnic tables in a large open-air shed, meaning that there was a roof covering all of the tables, but the picnic area was open on all sides, so people could come and go as they pleased. We were there for the annual Nashville homecoming celebration, and were anticipating the announcement of this year's homecoming king and queen. My wife and I took it with a grain of salt; we didn't really believe in this sort of thing, but attended more out of curiosity.
I noticed that a program for the event was lying on our table, so I picked it up and began reading about the ceremony and its traditions. Homecoming king and queen applicants had to pay a hefty entry fee even to be considered, and the results were shrouded in secrecy until the unveiling at the picnic. Then I got to a paragraph that made me laugh out loud: the Nashville homecoming queen of 1825 was disqualified for having six ears! My wife and I were enjoying the ridiculousness of the situation when I noticed that the guy seated across from us was on the same wavelength. He had a sense of irony, and he found the paragraph and the whole ceremony to be absurd and preposterous, too. We struck up a conversation with him, and he mentioned his wife; he said, "It's just the two of us here," meaning that they had no children, either. I thought to myself, "Maybe we could become friends with these people."
*****
Dream 1: Just Joking
I'm working hard to prepare some discs that are part of my ongoing CD compilation series, and lately I've been searching for "one more" good song that I've overlooked from 1955-1984. I've nominated a few, and tested them, but as of last night, none were found to be "good enough." Last night I was belting out "Misty" by Johnny Mathis (a song that made it onto one of my comps years ago) while buttering bread and getting my dinner ready. I hit so many terrible notes that both my wife and I burst out laughing. She suggested that I should record my own singing, include it as a surprise bonus track, and be done with it. It's a cute idea, but it wouldn't wear well over time, so I'm going to pass.
Anyway, my mangling of Johnny Mathis standards morphed into Steve's mangling of Sinatra tunes last night.
Dream 2: School?
My wife has just gotten a really good new job, so that means that our stay in Nashville will be extended, possibly by as much as five years. We've been having conversations about how I can develop some friendships and really "live" here, as opposed to just existing here, looking forward to moving back home to Virginia. I suppose that last night I was proposing to myself that I could really make something of those years if I decided to go back to school and get a degree. I've thought about it from time to time. It probably came up because yesterday I checked out my friend Ed B.'s page on MySpace, or FaceBook, or whatever it is, and noticed that he'd had several false starts in college, but got degrees later in life, both from community college and Strayer University in D.C. By the way, George Mason is a college in Fairfax, Virginia. I was surmising in the dream that it would be cheaper to attend George Mason than the University of Idaho. I'm quite sure that both would cost a whole lot more than $12,000 a year.
This dream was also influenced by a compilation program of "A Prairie Home Companion" that I heard on the radio yesterday; it culled together skits and songs that pertained to going back to school. One of the comedy bits warned today's 7th graders that they will probably have to work in the mines to pay off their million-dollar college loans.
I have no idea where actor Matt Servitto went to school, or if he did go at all. I'm guessing that I thought of Idaho because scandal-plagued Senator Larry Craig hails from that state, and he's been all over the news lately.
Dream 3: Homecoming
I've had some funny dreams in my time, but it's hard to beat one about an inbred homecoming queen with six ears. When I got up this morning, I told my wife this story, and followed up by saying, "Now I can see why people might think that I'm making these things up while I'm awake." I suppose that this was just a nasty dig at Nashville, but it sure cracked me up. As far as I know there is no such thing as a homecoming pageant at the Parthenon. I probably read something in passing about a homecoming ceremony at a local high school, maybe while flipping through old yearbooks at an antique shop.
I went in to work for a little while yesterday, and as I parked the car in the lot across from the office, I looked over at the old train station building, which was remodeled many years ago into a hotel. My wife and I spent a weekend in that hotel back in 2000. My employer in Virginia was trying to talk me into transferring here, and we stayed there while we drove around and got to know a little bit about the city. Yesterday I was remembering the way the building looked 7 years ago; there used to be a historic train shed adjacent to the hotel, which amounted to a one long roof which covered the trains and protected them from inclement weather. It's gone now, removed to make way for a parking lot. That's somebody's idea of progress, I guess. Anyway, that train shed turned into the covered picnic shed in this dream. There is no permanent covered shed at the Parthenon, although they have events there in temporary tents all the time.
I didn't recognize the fellow who sat across the table from me, but it's clear that he was a kindred spirit. Even while I was sleeping I was thinking about developing friendships with people who are close to my age, and with whom I share some things in common.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
What Are You Gonna Do? / Blackjack
Friday night
Dream 1: What Are You Gonna Do?
I was standing just inside the basement back door to my parents' house when a priest opened the door and came in from outside. He was tall, and appeared to be in his 30s, with a receding hairline and a small mustache; he was dressed all in black. I said, "Hello, Father," but he didn't respond. He walked past me into the "old basement" on my left. Soon he came back out of the old basement; he had changed into a white doctor's outfit. He walked past me again, and into the basement playroom. I turned around so I could watch him through the doorway. He sat down, facing me, giving me a stern look, but still said nothing. I began to get really nervous and agitated. Suddenly he got up and made quick strides right at me. In quick succession I said,
"What are you gonna do?"
"What are you gonna do?"
"What are you gonna do?"
"What are you gonna do?"
and then I woke up.
Dream 2: Blackjack
The latest round of my friends' yearly poker tournament was about to begin, and the participants sat down at a long, rectangular table, about the size of an outdoor picnic table. I sat at the far right end, with my back to the viewer's vantage point. My brother Andrew was there, as were my friends Mark F. and Eddie M. I was surprised to see that Mark's wife, Susan, was going to play; she sat across from me. I said, "I'm glad you could join us."
Someone began dealing a hand of Blackjack, and my first two cards totaled 17. (The point of the game was to try to get to 21, or close to it, without going over.) I was trying to decide whether to risk taking more cards when I noticed that several cards on the deck that the dealer was using were turned face-up. I could clearly see three small cards in a row; an Ace, a 2 and another Ace. (Aces could count as 1 or 11 points in this game -- as the highest or lowest card in the deck.)
I frowned and contemplated declaring a misdeal -- always a difficult decision after players have already looked at their cards, and some have begun betting. Eddie knew what I was thinking, and tried to dissuade me. He said, "It wouldn't have mattered anyway," presumably meaning that someone else already had an unbeatable hand.
*****
Dream 1: What Are You Gonna Do?
This is the first nightmare that I've had in awhile. I woke up trembling. My wife and I had been talking last night about the fact that I haven't been to the doctor in a long time. She was encouraging me to schedule a physical and an appointment with the dentist. I'm not really afraid of doctors, but was always afraid of the dentist when I was young, because he never gave me enough Novacaine to dull my pain. I've also always been afraid of authority figures who gave me the silent treatment.
I know that I've seen this priest/doctor before, in an old movie. I suspect that he was the kind doctor who looked out for Kris Kringle in the original version of "Miracle on 34th Street." He wasn't very kind to me.
The phrase "What are you gonna do" is Jersey-speak often heard on "The Sopranos," meaning "What can you do?" Example: "I'm sorry to hear that your mother died." Response: "What are you gonna do?" My usage of the phrase definitely had a different meaning; I wanted to know what that doctor was going to do to me.
Dream 2: Blackjack
I fly up to the D.C. area next Friday, and will play in the second round of this year's poker tournament at Eddie's on Saturday night. Andrew and Mark will be there, but Mark's wife will not; no women have played in the tournament in the past 20 years.
I think this dream means that I feel compelled to be the enforcer of the rule book while some players are lax in that regard. I'm not saying that anyone cheats; only that the rules are not adhered to stringently in all cases. Sometimes players simply don't know what the rules are, or they forget, or there might be a dispute. I try to see that the same rules apply to everyone, so the playing field is even, and no one has an unfair advantage over anyone else. If everybody abided by the rules, I wouldn't have to be the stickler, the enforcer, or the bad guy. I don't like it; it's a chore.
If Jeff had followed the tournament rules that I'd sent him in advance, I wouldn't have had to call him on his rule breaking, and maybe he and I would still be friends. (See the explanation following "Another Day, Another Theater," August 29.) Then again, maybe we wouldn't anyway.
Dream 1: What Are You Gonna Do?
I was standing just inside the basement back door to my parents' house when a priest opened the door and came in from outside. He was tall, and appeared to be in his 30s, with a receding hairline and a small mustache; he was dressed all in black. I said, "Hello, Father," but he didn't respond. He walked past me into the "old basement" on my left. Soon he came back out of the old basement; he had changed into a white doctor's outfit. He walked past me again, and into the basement playroom. I turned around so I could watch him through the doorway. He sat down, facing me, giving me a stern look, but still said nothing. I began to get really nervous and agitated. Suddenly he got up and made quick strides right at me. In quick succession I said,
"What are you gonna do?"
"What are you gonna do?"
"What are you gonna do?"
"What are you gonna do?"
and then I woke up.
Dream 2: Blackjack
The latest round of my friends' yearly poker tournament was about to begin, and the participants sat down at a long, rectangular table, about the size of an outdoor picnic table. I sat at the far right end, with my back to the viewer's vantage point. My brother Andrew was there, as were my friends Mark F. and Eddie M. I was surprised to see that Mark's wife, Susan, was going to play; she sat across from me. I said, "I'm glad you could join us."
Someone began dealing a hand of Blackjack, and my first two cards totaled 17. (The point of the game was to try to get to 21, or close to it, without going over.) I was trying to decide whether to risk taking more cards when I noticed that several cards on the deck that the dealer was using were turned face-up. I could clearly see three small cards in a row; an Ace, a 2 and another Ace. (Aces could count as 1 or 11 points in this game -- as the highest or lowest card in the deck.)
I frowned and contemplated declaring a misdeal -- always a difficult decision after players have already looked at their cards, and some have begun betting. Eddie knew what I was thinking, and tried to dissuade me. He said, "It wouldn't have mattered anyway," presumably meaning that someone else already had an unbeatable hand.
*****
Dream 1: What Are You Gonna Do?
This is the first nightmare that I've had in awhile. I woke up trembling. My wife and I had been talking last night about the fact that I haven't been to the doctor in a long time. She was encouraging me to schedule a physical and an appointment with the dentist. I'm not really afraid of doctors, but was always afraid of the dentist when I was young, because he never gave me enough Novacaine to dull my pain. I've also always been afraid of authority figures who gave me the silent treatment.
I know that I've seen this priest/doctor before, in an old movie. I suspect that he was the kind doctor who looked out for Kris Kringle in the original version of "Miracle on 34th Street." He wasn't very kind to me.
The phrase "What are you gonna do" is Jersey-speak often heard on "The Sopranos," meaning "What can you do?" Example: "I'm sorry to hear that your mother died." Response: "What are you gonna do?" My usage of the phrase definitely had a different meaning; I wanted to know what that doctor was going to do to me.
Dream 2: Blackjack
I fly up to the D.C. area next Friday, and will play in the second round of this year's poker tournament at Eddie's on Saturday night. Andrew and Mark will be there, but Mark's wife will not; no women have played in the tournament in the past 20 years.
I think this dream means that I feel compelled to be the enforcer of the rule book while some players are lax in that regard. I'm not saying that anyone cheats; only that the rules are not adhered to stringently in all cases. Sometimes players simply don't know what the rules are, or they forget, or there might be a dispute. I try to see that the same rules apply to everyone, so the playing field is even, and no one has an unfair advantage over anyone else. If everybody abided by the rules, I wouldn't have to be the stickler, the enforcer, or the bad guy. I don't like it; it's a chore.
If Jeff had followed the tournament rules that I'd sent him in advance, I wouldn't have had to call him on his rule breaking, and maybe he and I would still be friends. (See the explanation following "Another Day, Another Theater," August 29.) Then again, maybe we wouldn't anyway.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Steps Out
Thursday night
I was back at my parents' house, and overheard part of a conversation that my mom was having on the kitchen phone. She said, "It's OK. Two of the boys are out of the house now, and [my name] is about to start going to college."
I went out the front door, and time seemed to slow down. As I walked down the concrete steps I stopped and studied each one in minute detail.
*****
There was a black mounted wall phone in my parents' kitchen, and whenever Mom spoke on that phone she would sit just outside the kitchen in a dining room chair, with her back against the wall.
I don't know if this is a snippet of a real conversation or not, but based on what was said, it would date this dream to 1981. The concrete steps were removed sometime in the 1980s and replaced by new ones made of brick.
I was back at my parents' house, and overheard part of a conversation that my mom was having on the kitchen phone. She said, "It's OK. Two of the boys are out of the house now, and [my name] is about to start going to college."
I went out the front door, and time seemed to slow down. As I walked down the concrete steps I stopped and studied each one in minute detail.
*****
There was a black mounted wall phone in my parents' kitchen, and whenever Mom spoke on that phone she would sit just outside the kitchen in a dining room chair, with her back against the wall.
I don't know if this is a snippet of a real conversation or not, but based on what was said, it would date this dream to 1981. The concrete steps were removed sometime in the 1980s and replaced by new ones made of brick.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Men in White / The Grump / Admirer
Monday night
Dream 1: Men in White
My girlfriend, Michelle, had enlisted me to help out in the renovation of an old farmhouse out in the country. The idea was that her family would move into it eventually. When I got to the site my initial thought was, "this place probably can't be saved." The old house was made of stone, and it was pretty run-down. To make matters worse, a wall on the right side of the house was connected to another building project -- something taller, possibly an apartment building.
Instead of walking into the farmhouse, I wound up taking an elevator to the top of the building that was under construction, and I wound up working there. When I got to the top I found that the owners in charge of the new building were my cousins, David and Wingard. They were dressed completely in white golfing outfits, right down to their shoes, and a Lucite box containing golf balls sat in the middle of the concrete floor. I got the impression that they did no work, but when they got bored bossing people around, they'd hit a few balls off of the upper deck. I resented getting roped into the project, and wished I'd never gone there in the first place.
Not long after I arrived, I needed to go to the bathroom, but since the building only contained slabs and steel girders at that point, none were to be found. I decided to pee directly onto the concrete, into a pool of rainwater.
Dream 2: The Grump
A friend of mine was constantly enlisting me to help out with his elderly relative -- probably his grandfather. He was a grumpy old guy, and I was spending so much time doing chores at his place, I started to feel guilty that I wasn't spending more time at home with my own mom and dad. I remember standing inside the basement door of the old cuss'es house, watching as he struggled with a very heavy garbage can. It seemed important to him that I'd see that he could lift it. Finally, I said, "Put that down; let me do it." He sighed with resignation, and acquiesced.
Dream 3: Admirer
I was on some road trip with my brother Andrew and we ended up bunking in the same bed. Just before we went to sleep he was asking me if I'd seen a recent magazine photo shoot of singer Sheryl Crow. He was a fan...
*****
Some interesting themes popped up last night.
Dream 1: Men in White
Michelle L. was my girlfriend for a year, around 1989 - 1990. I haven't seen her since about 1991. Her family lived in Haymarket, out past Gainesville, VA, which, to a suburanite such as myself, might as well have been over the moon. I'll never forget driving out to her place one time and coming across a cow standing in the middle of the road. That was far-out. I'm sure that that area has grown a lot in the past 17 years; the great BBQ stand that I used to visit there is long gone.
David and Wing are my cousins, but they don't own any apartment buildings that I'm aware of, and I've never worked for either of them. I don't recall ever seeing them dressed in white, but they do probably golf on occasion.
There's a lot of resentment in that dream, about doing tedious work that I don't like, and feeling unappreciated. I piss on your concrete!
Come to think about it, I may have been remembering part of a "Sopranos" episode in which one of Tony's subordinates got drunk and came to his house, prepared to gun him down. He thought better of it, and took a leak in Tony's pool instead.
Dream 2: The Grump
The guy who "played" the grandpa in this dream is an old British actor named Peter Vaughan, who I recently saw in a funny film called "Death at a Funeral." (I think I'd first seen him portray the father of Anthony Hopkins' character in "Remains of the Day.") Although the house in the dream was supposed to be his, we were actually standing inside the back door at my parents' house.
Am I feeling guilty that I'm not nearer my elderly dad as he gets older? Am I worried about getting older, too?
Dream 1: Men in White
My girlfriend, Michelle, had enlisted me to help out in the renovation of an old farmhouse out in the country. The idea was that her family would move into it eventually. When I got to the site my initial thought was, "this place probably can't be saved." The old house was made of stone, and it was pretty run-down. To make matters worse, a wall on the right side of the house was connected to another building project -- something taller, possibly an apartment building.
Instead of walking into the farmhouse, I wound up taking an elevator to the top of the building that was under construction, and I wound up working there. When I got to the top I found that the owners in charge of the new building were my cousins, David and Wingard. They were dressed completely in white golfing outfits, right down to their shoes, and a Lucite box containing golf balls sat in the middle of the concrete floor. I got the impression that they did no work, but when they got bored bossing people around, they'd hit a few balls off of the upper deck. I resented getting roped into the project, and wished I'd never gone there in the first place.
Not long after I arrived, I needed to go to the bathroom, but since the building only contained slabs and steel girders at that point, none were to be found. I decided to pee directly onto the concrete, into a pool of rainwater.
Dream 2: The Grump
A friend of mine was constantly enlisting me to help out with his elderly relative -- probably his grandfather. He was a grumpy old guy, and I was spending so much time doing chores at his place, I started to feel guilty that I wasn't spending more time at home with my own mom and dad. I remember standing inside the basement door of the old cuss'es house, watching as he struggled with a very heavy garbage can. It seemed important to him that I'd see that he could lift it. Finally, I said, "Put that down; let me do it." He sighed with resignation, and acquiesced.
Dream 3: Admirer
I was on some road trip with my brother Andrew and we ended up bunking in the same bed. Just before we went to sleep he was asking me if I'd seen a recent magazine photo shoot of singer Sheryl Crow. He was a fan...
*****
Some interesting themes popped up last night.
Dream 1: Men in White
Michelle L. was my girlfriend for a year, around 1989 - 1990. I haven't seen her since about 1991. Her family lived in Haymarket, out past Gainesville, VA, which, to a suburanite such as myself, might as well have been over the moon. I'll never forget driving out to her place one time and coming across a cow standing in the middle of the road. That was far-out. I'm sure that that area has grown a lot in the past 17 years; the great BBQ stand that I used to visit there is long gone.
David and Wing are my cousins, but they don't own any apartment buildings that I'm aware of, and I've never worked for either of them. I don't recall ever seeing them dressed in white, but they do probably golf on occasion.
There's a lot of resentment in that dream, about doing tedious work that I don't like, and feeling unappreciated. I piss on your concrete!
Come to think about it, I may have been remembering part of a "Sopranos" episode in which one of Tony's subordinates got drunk and came to his house, prepared to gun him down. He thought better of it, and took a leak in Tony's pool instead.
Dream 2: The Grump
The guy who "played" the grandpa in this dream is an old British actor named Peter Vaughan, who I recently saw in a funny film called "Death at a Funeral." (I think I'd first seen him portray the father of Anthony Hopkins' character in "Remains of the Day.") Although the house in the dream was supposed to be his, we were actually standing inside the back door at my parents' house.
Am I feeling guilty that I'm not nearer my elderly dad as he gets older? Am I worried about getting older, too?
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Little Rasta Man
I was having a party at my apartment, and guests were lounging on the couches and milling about. The doorbell rang and I got up to answer it. I opened the door to see my coworker, Kahata, her date, and her son. The date was a big, tall guy. He looked like he could have been a football player, but he was wearing a sportcoat. Kahata's son was quite small, but his hair was a long set of dredlocks. I reached out to hold him, and she handed the boy to me. I said, "It looks like we have a young Bob Marley here!" She and her date both smiled, and said, "Yeah."
*****
Kahata is one of my coworkers, and she does have a young son, but he's not wearing dreds in the photos I've seen in her cubicle. The "football player" is made-up. I told Kahata about this dream when I got to work today, and she said she'd like to meet that guy.
*****
Kahata is one of my coworkers, and she does have a young son, but he's not wearing dreds in the photos I've seen in her cubicle. The "football player" is made-up. I told Kahata about this dream when I got to work today, and she said she'd like to meet that guy.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Blackmailing the DJ
Sunday night
I was part of the upper management team at a broadcasting company. One of our disc jockeys, Cerphe, came to see me, and he was upset. His boss was underpaying him because he (the DJ) had a criminal record in his past. The boss felt that he should be content to have this job, whatever the pay, and there was a not-so-subtle hint in the air that if he complained too much, his secret would be exposed to the public.
*****
Cerphe is a popular DJ who is currently celebrating his 35th year on the air in the D.C. area. My friends and I grew up listening to him, and I've met him a few times. He's currently on a station called "The Globe."
The bit in this dream about a criminal past is completely fictional. There's no truth to it whatsoever; just more wierd stuff from dreamland.
*****
August Dream Roundup
The following people showed up in my dreams in August 2007:
Family and Friends
My wife
Andrew C.
Ann R.
Brent L.
Dad
Eddie M.
Gordon S.
Jimmie C.
MaMa (My grandmother; her funeral was reenacted in "MaMa")
Mari-Jane W.
Preston W.
Susan W.
Wendy G.
Coworkers and Acquaintances
Duncan S.
Eric T.
Jamie P.
Jeff D.
Pat H.
Shannon F.
Celebrities
ABBA (Their record appeared in "Vinyl Days")
Aida Torturro (as Janice Soprano)
Bruce Springsteen
The Byrds (Video made for their song "Goin' Back" in "Videos")
Conan O'Brien
The Eagles (Paul McCartney sang one of their songs in "Strange Set")
Ellen Degeneres
Elvis Costello
The Everly Brothers
James Gandolfini (as Tony Soprano)
The Monkees
Mike Myers
Paul McCartney
Pete Townshend
Roger Daltrey
Spike Lee
Stevie Nicks (Her 45 appeared in "Vinyl Days")
Styx (Their records appeared in "Vinyl Days")
Tom Snyder
Dreams about Mom & Dad's House: 4
I was part of the upper management team at a broadcasting company. One of our disc jockeys, Cerphe, came to see me, and he was upset. His boss was underpaying him because he (the DJ) had a criminal record in his past. The boss felt that he should be content to have this job, whatever the pay, and there was a not-so-subtle hint in the air that if he complained too much, his secret would be exposed to the public.
*****
Cerphe is a popular DJ who is currently celebrating his 35th year on the air in the D.C. area. My friends and I grew up listening to him, and I've met him a few times. He's currently on a station called "The Globe."
The bit in this dream about a criminal past is completely fictional. There's no truth to it whatsoever; just more wierd stuff from dreamland.
*****
August Dream Roundup
The following people showed up in my dreams in August 2007:
Family and Friends
My wife
Andrew C.
Ann R.
Brent L.
Dad
Eddie M.
Gordon S.
Jimmie C.
MaMa (My grandmother; her funeral was reenacted in "MaMa")
Mari-Jane W.
Preston W.
Susan W.
Wendy G.
Coworkers and Acquaintances
Duncan S.
Eric T.
Jamie P.
Jeff D.
Pat H.
Shannon F.
Celebrities
ABBA (Their record appeared in "Vinyl Days")
Aida Torturro (as Janice Soprano)
Bruce Springsteen
The Byrds (Video made for their song "Goin' Back" in "Videos")
Conan O'Brien
The Eagles (Paul McCartney sang one of their songs in "Strange Set")
Ellen Degeneres
Elvis Costello
The Everly Brothers
James Gandolfini (as Tony Soprano)
The Monkees
Mike Myers
Paul McCartney
Pete Townshend
Roger Daltrey
Spike Lee
Stevie Nicks (Her 45 appeared in "Vinyl Days")
Styx (Their records appeared in "Vinyl Days")
Tom Snyder
Dreams about Mom & Dad's House: 4
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)