September 30, 2005
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Dreams
Sometimes, when I awaken, I recall what I had been dreaming just before. This morning, I recall a whole series of dreams.
The comic strip Zits came to life in one of my dreams. Jeremy
found a bit of litter on the ground, a label from “Morning Sip
Tea.” He thought that something with a name like that would be a
cheap gift that his girlfriend Sara would really like. He made a
mental note to get her some Morning Sip Tea.
I walk into a dimly-lit, quiet, slick and swank bar with my date (someone I don’t recognize IRL) and my old friend Steve Brooks.
Coming toward us behind a row of patrons on stools at the bar were two
men in ill-fitting shiny suits with the telltale bulges of pistols in
shoulder rigs under their jackets. Between them they were
supporting a third man. He was wearing an aloha-print shirt,
untucked, hanging sloppily and hiked up on the butt of an automatic
tucked into his pants.This guy’s eyes were deep-set and ringed with black. His skin was
pale and gray. He looked like the living dead. Steve knew
the two men who were dragging him out of the bar, and they stopped for
a brief conversation. The gist of it was that the man between
them was on a long-running binge and dangerously out of control.
It was hard to tell whether they were taking him out to help him or to
kill him.
It’s as if I’m looking down from
an airplane at a scattering of golden sandy islands in a turquoise
ocean, then I realize that I’m standing in the water and the islands
are small and close enough together that I can step from one to the
next. I set off toward the horizon.
I’m in an anonymous-looking room
like you’d find at Motel 6. I’m with a man (again, I don’t know
who he is IRL) and we are taking things from our luggage and dressing
to go out. He gives me some cheap molded plastic Mardi Gras beads
and I put them around my neck and go on dressing to go out. As
we’re getting ready to leave he looks at my tawdry “jewelry” and
ridicules me for wearing it.
I’m alone in a tropical setting
where the vegetation grows down to the edge of a cove or pond of blue
water. I’m wearing jeans and a shirt. The water is
inviting, so I wade in and am half-floating there with the water up to
my shoulders, when a little boy comes up to me and tells me I’m
violating the pool rules by wearing my jeans in the water. I look
around and find that the cove has become a square-sided man-made pool
and it is filled with people. I start to protest to the kid and
realize that I’m no longer wearing jeans but have on a swim suit.
I swim away from the kid, out into deeper water.
Live fast.
Die young.
Leave a beautiful memory.
February 2, 1931 – September 30, 1955
Comments (5)
Hi sweety–IMPORTANT drug-related thingie–how are you fixed for Yuban–shall I get you some–I keep forgetting to ask; if I remember, I’ll ask when I call this morning.
Thanks for the links and URL and stuff, especially on Poopy Pilgrim. He has turned into a latter-day Elvis, what with all the “sightings”–some poor dude in Anchorage is evidently a dead ringer, and drives a dark blue Dodge van–he has been stopped and questioned by cops three times, as of yesterday, and can’t wait to get out of town!
Shux–they can only handle 80 x 80 pixies–um, pixels.
Too bad I never heard from Ravenari–astral pulse seems pretty dormant.
I have switched sites, and I am in hopes that you will subscribe to me under my new name!
I didn’t realize that today was the anniversary of James Dean’s death.
Thanks for that…….for some reason, I’m fascinated with him.
wow – can you imagine what he would look/be like at 74??