Walks in the Woods

Sunday night

Preston W. and I were walking in a wooded area near a creek, and the ground was littered with brown leaves; it was fall. I was telling him that I'd seen a lot of snakes lately, when I stopped and said, "There's one now." I stepped down into a slight ravine and pointed out a fairly thick snake that was gray, with some reddish markings. I said, "That's a corn snake." Preston was still on higher ground, but bent down for a better view. I touched the snake and he wriggled away, into a hole. Having a quick look around, I said, there's two more." These were smaller and thinner snakes, both black, though one had white stripes. I reached out and touched them, too, before they quickly hid themselves. None of the snakes were poisonous.

A short time later, I was walking through the same area when I came upon an older gentleman with white hair who owned a home nearby. I told him about the snakes we'd seen, particularly the large gray one. The man said, "Oh, my dog knows that one. The two of them are friends."

Later, my wife and I were walking along the same path in springtime, and we were looking at bird's nests. She found one in an unusual location -- in the base of a rose bush that was growing in a red clay pot, left along the path. She said, "Look; I think I've found something here." I had a look for myself, and could see three tiny, fluffy gray birds, almost unrecognizable, because they were only about an inch or two long, and were huddled together. I said "Why do you think they made their nest here, in this exposed place? Maybe they thought the thorns would protect them." I stood up and looked into a nearby tree and said, "I've got one, too." A robin was perched on a branch close to her nest. She was eyeing me warily. I said, "You're OK. [I'm not here to hurt you]." Just then, one of her neighbors, a black and white woodpecker with red markings on its head, came along her branch and bumped into her by mistake.

*****

I think that this particular wooded path is based on a bend in the trail that I used to take from my neighborhood down to the creek. It's in the area down below Old Dominion Drive, between my parents' home in Arlington and the Chesterbrook Shopping Center in McLean.

It's springtime, and the backyard has come to life; the cherry tree is in full bloom, the dogwoods are about to pop, and the birds are out and about. I was fortunate enough to see a rare visitor a few days ago; a yellow bellied sapsucker flew into our elm tree.

Blocked

Saturday night

I had found out about an interesting job opening where I work, and decided that I was going to apply for it, but first I had to tell my current boss. I went into her office and sat down and explained that I was applying to be the editor of three magazines, and would be responsible for some layout duties, as well. She said that she'd prevent me from doing so; she didn't think I was qualified.

*****

This is not a real situation, but it shows that I'm still thinking about the job review that I had on Friday. I hate job reviews; it always feels like I'm walking to the firing squad.

Didn't Need to See That

Thursday night

I was standing in my parents' bedroom on Dinwiddie Street, sorting through a stack of clean laundry that I'd dumped on the bed. My aunt (Dad's sister -- "Sis") was there too, standing next to me. As I sorted through the white clothes I came across a T-shirt that I'd had printed up for a birthday party my brother Andrew and I had thrown for each other some years before. It featured a large black and white blowup of a photo taken of Drew and me on our fourth birthday, in 1966. Sis saw the shirt. Not only did she decide that she had to have it; she had to try it on then and there. She took off her shirt in my presence, and put on the T-shirt. It didn't fit right, so the neckline was stretched, and it "stuck out" in places. I turned away and said, "TOO MUCH INFORMATION!"

*****

Those T-shirts did exist; we only made two of them. I haven't thought of them in years.

No Guts, No Glory

Monday night

My wife and I were at an amusement park that featured a large roller coaster constructed of metal beams painted black. She eagerly hopped into the last car and waited to take a ride, but I held back. The owner of the coaster walked up and introduced himself; his first name was the same as mine. He said that this was his first roller coaster. (He'd never owned one before.) The cars began to move, and I had to make a quick decision whether to get over my fear and join in the fun. There was one more open seat in front of my wife...

*****

I'm scared of three things: lightning storms, roller coasters, and the dentist. Well, four, counting cancer ("the bullet"). I'm working hard at taking better care of myself, so I'll be in good health in my retirement. I'm trying to learn from my dad's experience. He's been retired for over 20 years now, but I think he would probably have enjoyed it more had he kept his weight down and gotten more exercise.

The dentist isn't so bad these days. Most of my teeth problems were fixed some time ago.

Sure hope I can dodge that bullet as I get older.

Moon Museum

Sunday night

I was hanging onto a metal railing protruding from the bottom of a small satellite that was floating in space. Well, it wasn't really a satellite; it was a small round building, big enough to hold a handfull of people and a few exhibits. It was a moon museum, designed to get people interested in taking a trip there. Anyway, I was hanging off of this railing, untethered, and it was pretty scary, but I was able to clamber back inside all right. Once I had gotten back to safety, I found myself in a cramped hallway, looking at large, seemingly identical black and white photographs of mountains that were hanging on opposite walls. Visitors were supposed to guess which of these peaks were on the earth, and which were on the moon. I had no idea. They looked identical to me. I asked one of the guides, "Will we be able to breathe there [on the moon]?

*****

The bit about hanging from the railing at the bottom of the floating orb may have been taken from "The Empire Strikes Back," after Han Solo had the unfortunate meeting with his daddy.

That's My Bug!

Saturday night

I was upstairs in my old bedroom on Dinwiddie Street when I heard a commotion outside. I peered out of the window down to the street below, and saw three cars parked in the middle of the road, in front of the house; all three cars seemed to have come from different directions, and were facing each other, forming a triangle. One of the cars had been abandoned with its hood open, and the area under the hood had been strewn with some dirty rags and debris. What was even worse was that the car with the hood open was my new VW Beetle. It turned out that my old friend Brud H. had borrowed it to give his own car a jump start, and then left it where it was.

*****

I've never owned a VW Beetle, but Brud had a light blue one when we were in high school. He went through a period when he was drawing pictures of VW Bugs all the time.

The old VW Bugs had their engines in the back; presumably the batteries were in the front. I have no idea how the newer ones were designed.

Southwest Style

Friday night

My wife and I were in a big bar or honky tonk somewhere in Texas, soaking up the atmosphere. The music was pretty good; it was flavored with Mexican accents, and the joint was jumpin'. I said, "This is the type of country music I like; it's got some spice to it." Just then, we noticed two serious-looking cowboys face off in a duel, of sorts, that had nothing to do with guns. Each wore a black cowboy hat, and both had dark mustaches. They faced each other, and each stood in the same odd pose; one that seemed to be copied from Charlie Chaplin's "Little Tramp" character, or maybe from a talented ballet dancer. Each man's heels touched each other, but their feet were facing in opposite directions. The two men were about to dance together, but it wasn't a gay thing, it was a very macho display, to convince the ladies in attendance which one was the better man. Suddenly one of the participants raised his right foot, then stamped it down, followed by his left foot doing the same, and his right foot again; BAM! BAM! BAM! His face was deadly serious, and he looked right in his rival's eye, as he mirrored every step. Next, he did the same sequence again, only starting with his left foot. These series of movements continued until the dream ended: right-left-right, left-right-left, right-left-right...


*****

The "left-right-left" sequence could refer to military marches, but I don't really think that that had anything to do with it. More than anything else, these two fellas reminded me of rival birds dancing to impress their mates in the "Planet Earth" documentary.

Last night, my wife made a fantastic dinner that consisted of a nice piece of halibut covered with a topping made of some fresh green veggies of some sort, mixed with red pepper, olive oil, garlic and various other things that I can't recall. It was hot enough to make my nose run, but it was incredibly tasty. I remember her saying, "Did you ever think you'd like something this spicy?" I said that I never knew about this type of thing when I was younger; we didn't eat really spicy food in our house when we were growing up, but I've learned to love it now. Anyway, I suspect that that conversation about dinner is why we were discussing spicy music in this dream. I'll take a little Tejano music over straight country any day.

Just Leave, Already

Thursday night

I was working in a bank, and it was the last day for one of my coworkers, Carlos. Both of us were watching the clock for different reasons; he was looking forward to leaving, and I was looking forward to his leaving, too. He was really bugging me, right up to the last minute, when I finally saw him walk out.

*****

Carlos worked with me during the first few months at my current job, and he seemed to go out of his way to make life difficult for me. He was not the kindest person, although he tried to come off as a friendly person to others. He last showed up as the detective in my dream "Crash" (February 18). I wish there was some way to block certain people (Carlos, Rod) from showing up in any more of my dreams. I guess that was sort of what "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" was about.

Collage

Wednesday night

My wife and I were staying at a very nice, comfortable vacation resort. The walls and bed linens were a very fresh white. It seemed to be a bed & breakfast, or, at least it was a small hotel where guests would gather for meals. The hosts had left some very interesting books next to our bed for our enjoyment. One of them featured photographs of works of art created from found objects. My favorite was a street scene, showing a road that was flat on the left, but rose up to become a hill on the right. Along the left side of the road was a group of nice apartment buildings, all painted a beautiful, rich blue; sort of an indescribable aquamarine color, whatever that means. When I looked closer at the photograph, I realized that the apartments were actually made of old door hinges that the artist had cut and arranged (next to each other, in stair-step fashion) to look like buildings, complete with little square windows punched in them, all painted in the same beautiful blue hue. I was so taken with the picture that I brought the book to dinner and passed it around to show it to the other guests.

*****

Yesterday I finally finished getting my retirement savings plan(s) in order, something I've been working on for a few months, so maybe I was dreaming about traveling.

Last night we watched "The Bourne Identity." I suspect that the white walls and the deep blue of the apartments (in the dream) are related to the white buildings and the deep blue sea surrounding the French seaside resort shown at the end of the film.

Finally, we had a ton of rain here yesterday, which resulted in some standing water in the basement. (That's a pretty standard thing in our neighborhood.) My wife and I were discussing a basement cleanup, and I said that one thing I'd really like to do is to finally get an old refrigerator out of there. She said that we could do that, but we'd have to get some folks to help out, and we'd need to remove the doors from their hinges. Thus, hinges made an appearance...

Match Play

Monday night

Sam F. and I were facing Ed M. and Mike K. in a game of table tennis. It really did seem like tennis, because this was a much larger and longer Ping-Pong table than usual, and there were piles of debris on either side, near the net. Sam seemed to want to be taking charge of the proceedings. At one point he asked me if I thought that the opposing team's serves were hitting the correct parts of the table. Shortly thereafter, it was my turn to serve, and I'd be sending the ball from right to left, across to Eddie. As I prepared my "windup" for the long serve, I backed up, into a large dog (a poodle mix) that was sitting behind me. When I turned around, the dog was no longer a dog; it was Mike, kneeling in the dog's place.

*****

All of these players are poker buddies, old friends that I met in the 1970s.

Mr. Popularity / Oops

Sunday night

Dream 1: Mr. Popularity

A pizza parlor was running a pretty strange promotion. They were giving out free pizza to anyone who came in and farted. College student Sean Strub was so flatulent that he nearly bankrupted the place, but he got (and gave away) so much free pie, he was extremely popular with his fellow students at the restaurant.

Dream 2: Oops

I was standing outside of someone's house, by a pool. Suddenly a delivery man approached, and handed me a present in a large silver box and a bouquet of black roses. Not only had I forgotten that it was Valentine's Day; I had also forgotten that I was dating one of the women at the office. (The black roses were meant as a sardonic commentary on my forgetfulness. It was such an obvious statement, I couldn't possibly miss the point.) I found her inside the house and tried to make it up to her in my own way by suggesting that we go back to her place for a "quickie."

*****

Dream 1: Mr. Popularity

The night John Lennon was murdered, December 8, 1980, I was 18. I sat in my bedroom for hours, listening to Michael Del Colliano, the DJ at WAVA, who was alternately playing Beatles music and broadcasting updates from the wire services. I recorded his reports by holding my portable tape recorder near the radio. At one point he read a statement from an eyewitness at the scene, describing the killer as he was being led away by police. That eyewitness was Sean Strub.

Dream 2: Oops

Actually, the woman in question is one of the few coworkers with whom I don't get along.

The Cheerleader

Saturday night

I was going to the White House to see President Bush announce his enthusiastic support for presidential candidate John McCain. Most of my coworkers were already inside, as were members of the media, and my dad. As usual, I was the last to arrive. I didn't have an invitation, and I wasn't on the guest list, which was a problem. As the people in charge of the event tried to check up on me, I noticed that Dad was seated at a desk to my left. He told them that I was O.K. (Maybe he was there because he was a former reporter.) I walked through an archway that was emblazoned with a slogan decked out in red, white and blue. It read, "I'm a McCainiac!" I could see several of my coworkers off to my right, also seated at desks, but their desks were smaller than dad's. His was teacher-sized; theirs were the type that students might use in a classroom. I said hi to my friend Tracy, who was nearby, at the end of a row, and could see another friend, Maureen, off in the distance. I strolled past a large winding staircase which would have offered a very good elevated platform from which to see the president speak. Two surly junior staffer dudes prevented anyone from gaining access, apparently for security reasons. (Their looks seemed to say, "Don't even try it.") The president was standing on stage about 20 yards away, to my left, around the corner from the stairs, and was getting ready to make his pitch. Members of the press were sitting on the floor in front of him, so I thought I'd go down there and try to hook up with my brother, Andrew. But first, I'd noticed that everyone was eating a nice meal, featuring a chicken breast and some tasty-looking vegetables, so I thought I'd jump into the lunch line; I was awfully hungry. Seeing that I was not on the guest list, the chef looked at me and dropped a chicken wing on my plate. That's all I got. I finally made my way down front, where I heard Bush say that he supports McCain fully now that he's the Republican nominee, and he's pushing McCain to name CNN's John King as his VP.

*****

I'm an Obama fan. At this point, no matter who wins the general election, if Obama prevents Hillary from getting the Democratic nomination, I'm happy.

The winding staircase was probably the one in Professor Higgins' study. (As noted at the end of the previous dream, we watched "My Fair Lady" the other night.)

I've never liked chicken wings. There's nothing to 'em.

I told my wife about this dream on Wednesday evening (3/19). She said, "You're retarded."

Success

Friday night

I was flipping through a magazine when I came across a full-page black and white advertisement, one in a series that featured successful people, meaning that they had attained success on their own terms. This one featured director Kevin Smith, frolicking in the snow with his dog, next to his great stone-fronted mansion in Idaho. The figure of $150 million dollars figured in there, too; maybe he had amassed that much of a fortune.

*****

We watched "My Fair Lady" the other night, in which Professor Higgins sang "I'm an ordinary man who desires nothing more than an ordinary chance to live exactly as he likes and do precisely what he wants." People featured in the magazine ads seemed to live by that philosophy.

I know who Kevin Smith is, but I don't think I've ever seen one of his movies.

Book

Thursday night

I was back at my parents' house, hanging out on the side porch that faced 34th Street, looking through some books. I found one that looked pretty interesting. It was a paperback biography of film star W.C. Fields. The cover featured many thin, horizontal colored stripes, in odd colors: gray, pink, light green... repeated in a pattern, with large type superimposed. It was an odd-sized paperback, short and wide, and quite thick, and it included many black and white photos.

*****

I always like reading about old movies and movie stars. Wonder why I dream about books in odd sizes?

Being Tested

Wednesday night

Shelly, one of the managers at work, was about to give me a test on 1980s trivia, but first she asked me to take it to the Xerox machine to copy it. I was to focus only on the question portion, which was about three pages long. She said, "Don't look at the answers," which must have been toward the back of the stack. I looked at the pages she gave me, and frowned. They were on dark green paper, and they were a weird size: 11 x 14. I thought, "How am I going to copy this?" Later that day I came across a file that I hadn't seen before. It contained secret notations written about me as I interviewed for my Unisys contract position at the GSA years ago. I was happily surprised. I did all right; the comments weren't half bad.

*****

I had to write my one-year review today. I hate talking about myself in those things. It was on my mind last night.

Good Then, Good Now

Tuesday night

I was watching a clever commercial for Ben & Jerry's ice cream. The first half of the commercial featured a man speaking English with a Dutch accent. He was dressed in a sportcoat, a dark turtleneck and light-colored slacks, and his hairstyle was from the early 1970s. He was talking about the great taste of Ben & Jerry's flavors. In fact, this part of the commercial had been filmed over 30 years ago. Then, suddenly, as the pitchman kept speaking, using the same exact script, and wearing the same outfit, the scene morphed to the modern day. Same guy, some 35 years later, giving the same exact pitch. The idea was that nothing's changed, folks; the ice cream was great then, and it's great now.

*****

That's a pretty neat idea, if I say so. Ben & Jerry's didn't start in the early 70s, though; I think their first shop opened up around 1978.

I've always thought that it would be a very cool thing if some of the great young stars of today, say, Scarlett Johannsen and one or two others, would begin filming a story now -- it could be a simple love story, or more of an epic -- put the results in the can, and then wait many, many years before filming more of the story. They could do this over time, then release the movie 40 or 50 years hence, using today's footage as flashbacks. Wouldn't that be a powerful thing? I suppose that it would be difficult to keep such a project under wraps, what with the cost of filming these days, fan websites and stuff. Anyway, I guess that this dream grew out of that idea.

I do like Ben & Jerry's -- too much. Now that I'm watching my weight and cholesterol, I don't eat it the stuff nearly as often as I once did. (In fact, we've only had one bowl each this year.) I can attest that it's still really, really good.

The Wrong Door

Monday night

It was nighttime, and Andrew and I walked into a bowling alley in a bad part of town. The parking area out front was underneath another level of parking or roadway; it seemed that we had to drive down an incline to get there, and the claustrophobic nature of the entrace gave it a sense of foreboding. We walked in through the front door, and for some reason I then went to open a door to my immediate left. That was a mistake. The manager of the bowling alley, a black woman who appeared to be in her 30s, was in the middle of killing four people in a small room, using a large silver handgun. She took one look at me, and wasn't upset at being discovered. In fact, she turned to me and said something along the lines of, "Too bad there's no cops around!" Chaos ensued. I ran back outside, and realized that I'd become separated from my brother. I looked for him, but he was nowhere to be found. The parking lot was filled with several hopped-up "low-rider" automobiles, and the drivers sitting in them looked as if they'd be uninclined to help. Not knowing what to do, I ran out of the parking lot and across the street, into a pretty fancy hotel. Figuring that I would be followed, I looked frantically for somewhere to store my few valuables (such as my wallet), finally shoving them under a couch somewhere on the second floor.

*****

A rare nightmare. I almost never dream of killings, thank goodness.

Unresolved

Friday night

I was seated in a diner in New Jersey, where two tables had been added, end to end, to a booth. Bruce Springsteen and his friend, Southside Johnny Lyon, were also sitting there, among a group of ordinary working people and regular customers. We were all there to listen to a guest speaker, who was leading a discussion about being healthy in middle age. The speaker began, "We can't do anything about the past. How do we move forward?" He wanted everyone to think about what he said as they ate their meals, and there would be more discussion later. I looked down to the end of the middle table (where it butted up against the booth) and saw that Springsteen was standing up, hunched over, signing an autograph for someone. I figured that this was my chance to ask him a question about one of his songs that had always puzzled me. I walked over and stood across from him, with the table between us, and said, "Can I ask you a question?" He said, "OK, but quickly, because I have a lot I want to say [to the group]." I leaned closer and looked him in the eye, with my hands on the table for support. I said, "Reason to Believe..." He looked a little exasperated, as if he didn't have time to go into great detail, and he cut me off. He said, "It's Luke. It's LUKE." Undeterred, I began to quote the lyrics: "Take a baby to the river / Kyle William they called him / Wash the baby in the water / take away little Kyle's sin / In a whitewash shotgun shack an old man passes away / Take the body to the graveyard / and over him they pray..." "So," I said, "Is the old man who dies Kyle William, or is he someone else?"

I woke up before he answered.

*****

This question didn't originate with me. Gordon and I were talking about Springsteen years ago, and he said that if he ever had the chance to meet him, he'd ask him about that song. I must have filed it away. I was thinking about Gordon yesterday, about time, distance, friendship.

I'm assuming that Springsteen was telling me that there's a passage in the book of Luke that inspired him to write, or would explain, "Reason to Believe." I'm not sure where I got that idea. Then again, I may have been thinking about my nephew Luke, back in Virginia.

The speaker's statement echoes something my mom said to me in 1996: "What is in the past you have no control over; it's done. There's no point in regretting it, although I know some of us do. You can't help it. And we don't know what we have tomorrow, so we ought to deal with today the best we know how. But I think because we have such a sense of time and our own immortality, that we may not always use it to the best advantage."

Lord, won't you tell us / Tell us what does it mean / At the end of every hard earned day people find some reason to believe

Off-Course

Thursday night

My brother Andrew and I had been invited to a party and were ready to head over when I said, "Why don't we fly?" I began to levitate from my standing-still position, and said, "Have you ever known anyone else who could do this?" He hadn't, and he couldn't do it, either. I told him to hang on, and he'd be all right. Soon we were aloft. I was lying prone, facing into the wind, a la Superman, but had my arms out at my sides, with finger tips outstretched in best hawk-like fashion, with Drew in tow. Unfortunately, a few minutes into the flight I got cocky, and wondered how well I'd be able to steer with my eyes shut. We promptly slammed into the crown of a tree. I apologized to Drew and we took off again. After a few minutes I grew tired, and in spite of my best efforts to stay awake, I fell asleep. Shortly thereafter, we hit another tree. At that point, Drew said, "I'd just as soon drive."

*****

Another fun dream about flying, except for the crashes, following "The Eye in the Sky" (11/13/07), "Flying" (7/10/07) and another one from June 2007, mentioned in the notes at the end of "Flying." All of these dreams seem so real and natural; there's no fear whatsoever. Then again, birds aren't afraid to fly, are they?

My wife and I recently finished watching the marvelous BBC documentary series "Planet Earth." A brief making-of piece is tacked on at the end of each episode, and one such featurette told the story of a Frenchman who had rigged a chair to a hot air balloon which he steered with a handle attached to a metal rudder. The chair was just wide enough for the "pilot" to squeeze in next to the photographer, a tall, very droll Brit, who, as it happened, was afraid of heights. After securing assurances from the Frenchman that he could control the balloon, the two of them took off, and promptly flew straight into a tree. Both of us just about bust a gut laughing, particularly when the Frenchman was back on solid ground, saying, "I'm so stoopeed!" over and over. After getting someone to solder the exhaust system back together and after cutting part of the (unbroken) section of the rudder, in order to even it out, the pair finally took off again, only to find out immediately that they had less control than they had before. The segment ended with the two of them hitting another tree. It seems pretty obvious to me that that's why we flew into trees twice in this dream.

The bit about Andrew clinging to me seems to be lifted from Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol," when the Ghost of Christmas Present bade Scrooge to touch his robe in order to be transported.

Incidentally, this is the first time that I can remember dreaming that I was asleep.

Mad Dash / Nick's on Tour

Thursday night

Dream 1: Mad Dash

My old boss, Christy, and I were in an office, sorting through a large stack of forms, and were gossiping about one of my current coworkers, Samantha H., who has twice said that she was going to leave, and then decided to stay. Christy smiled and said, "What's up with that?" At that moment, a man arrived behind us, and announced, "It's 10:55!" I looked down at my pocket watch and saw that it was about a half hour slow. Christy and I ran out of the room and were joined by a large crowd, all headed down the hallway to try to cram into a large glass elevator. We all had a flight to catch. During the melee some folks, including a young Asian boy, were roughly pushed out of the way. I got to to the elevator just as it was closing, but was just able to reach the button, and got the doors to open again. I walked inside, and overheard one of the inhabitants, a tall, thin British man, say "I had the funniest dream last night. Holly Hunter was singing [Donna Summer's] 'Last Dance.'"

Dream 2: Nick's on Tour

Nick Lowe was touring America again, and a single had been released off of his new album, and it was doing very well in the charts. I had a ticket to see him at my former high school in Arlington.

*****

Dream 1: Mad Dash

I enjoyed working for Christy. I haven't seen her since April 2005. The person we were discussing, Samantha, really has said that she was quitting my current employer twice. We recently watched our DVD of the hilarious Coen Brothers movie "Raising Arizona," which features Nic Cage, Holly Hunter and John Goodman.

Dream 2: Nick's on Tour

Nick is coming to Nashville next month. He's an old favorite.

This Is the Modern World

Wednesday night

My wife and I were visiting our nieces and nephews in Virginia, and I had given the kids a special metal train. Not only did it move, but it had sought out their wooden toys and destroyed them. Their dad, Jim, saw it in action, and was outraged and angry. He turned around and said, "WHO GAVE THIS TO THEM?!"

*****

These kids are being brought up in a very strict Catholic household, and are home-schooled. They can't watch TV unless it's a video approved by their parents; they aren't allowed to Trick-or-Treat on Halloween, and now the three girls are forced to wear "Little House on the Prairie"-style dresses. In other words, they aren't allowed to wear jeans. Ever. I see this dream as their aunt and uncle trying their best to sneak in a little corrupting influence for their own good.

The last time their family visited us here, there were a few occasions when my wife and I had a couple of the kids in the car. We played Springsteen's "Born to Run" CD for them. I hope it sunk in a little bit.

Whip It!

Monday night

A crowd had gathered in what looked like a small apartment, and they were in a celebratory mood; actor Scott Glenn and I were about to duel with bullwhips over a woman. Glenn was dressed appropriately, in Western gear complete with dark hat, but one of the onlookers, my poker buddy Jim B., and I were both dressed in idiotic 1980s jackets which were covered in zippers.

*****

I recently watched my DVD of "Silence of the Lambs," which featured Scott Glenn as Clarice Starling's boss, Jack Crawford. This dream hearkens back to Glenn's role as "Wes" in "Urban Cowboy," and mixes it up with the trailer I watched yesterday for the fourth "Indiana Jones" movie. I'm not sure about those jackets, though.

Campaign

Sunday night

My employer came up with a new way to get customers to spend some money, and it would involve portraits of women from the National Gallery of Art. The deal went like this: a potential advertiser could choose one female portrait from its collection to appear in an ad, but some portraits cost more than others. The cheapest ads featured blonde-haired women; brunettes were in the mid-range, and redheads cost the most.

*****

The idea behind the pricing structure was not that blondes are worthless, or "cheap," but since one sees blondes all the time, those pictures cost less. Redheads are more of a rarity in the population, so their pictures cost more.

February 2008 Dream Roundup

A few political figures made appearances last month. 'Tis the season...

Family & Friends:

My wife
Andrew C.
Barbara S.
Dad C. (I borrowed his car in "Crash")
Dawn B.
Ed B.
Eddie M.
Gordon S.
Mom C.
Preston W.
Steve S.

Acquaintances & Coworkers:

Carlos A.
Elfi F.
Maurice F.
Rod S.

Celebrities:

Amy Carter
Bob Marley (Preston owned a biography of him in "Trying to Break Free")
Fountains of Wayne (as their alter-egos in "The Roosters")
Franklin Delano Roosevelt (I saw his White House bedroom in "What's Left")
Hank Williams Sr.
Jimmy Carter
Joe Perry (of Aerosmith)
John Entwhistle
John Mellencamp (mentioned in "Get Me Outta Here")
Pete Townshend
Robert F. Kennedy (had written a volume of the Churchill biography found in FDR's room in "What's Left")
Roger Daltrey
Rosalynn Carter
Steven Tyler (of Aerosmith)
Sting
Winston Churchill (Biographies of Churchill were seen in FDR's room in "What's Left")