GEM JULIE ~
just woke up 32 minutes ago (10:03 AM my time ) and I wanna tell yaz my
dream, because it started with you. (Peoplez already think I'm crazy -
some might even say I "drive the Crazy Train" [HA!] - so I probably ought not to be doing this publicly, but the show must go on, and so... here goez)...
I told CHERDO (in a comment) and Robin the GIRL WONDER (in an Email)
shortly before going to bed last night, that I wasn't feeling well. My
stomach has been bothering me for several days. (It couldn't be the
rotgut corn liquor, could it? Maybe it has eaten away my stomach
lining. If so, at least I've lost a little weight, and no one sees the
stomach lining anyway.)
I haven't been sick as a dog, but I've
felt nauseous as a... [this is where your alliteration skills come in,
Julie, 'cause I can't think of an 'N'-word to go with nauseous.]
So, I thanked Cherdo for the "medicated milkshake"
(milkshakes having been an ongoing joke between us during 'A To Z') and
I went to bed. Cherdo had gone with "Z Is For Frank Zappa". I told her I
had been CERTAIN
that "Z" was going to be for Charles Mingus. Truth is: I had been
listening to a classic Charles Mingus album late last night. (This
illustrates that sometimes, even when I say what seems to be totally
abstract, off-the-wall stuffs, there's a kernel of truth to be found
therein, but I just don't usually bother to 'splain it. It's good for
the mystique - keeps the folks down on the farm guessin'.)
toss and turn and finally fall asleep. The dreaming starts and you're
in it, GEM JULIE. Don't worry - nuttin' weird, creepy or strange. I was
very touched by your 'Yearning For Yesteryear' post which I read
late, so I think I was just dreaming that I was on some old vacation
from my youth and you were on vacation with us. Something like that. FUN! Think of all the swimming and all-we-can-eat buffets (a big attraction on my family vacations in Las Vegas and Reno).
I slept for awhile, but then I woke myself up by turning over in bed.
First thing I noticed was that my stomach still seemed upset. I leaned
over to look at my clock radio, and the bright, red digital display said
4:44 AM. But at that very second I'm looking at it, it changes to 4:45.
roll over and fall back to sleep. But what feels like
not-too-long-later, I'm awakened by the sounds of someone walking in my
house, maybe opening some drawers. I look to the clock radio but there's
no digital time display! I reach under my bed and drag up the .38
revolver that used to belong to my dear departed Grandpa when he was a
cop-guy. (I don't ever expect to need this gun except for perhaps
shooting it to start the potato sack races at the county fair, but I
like having it as a souvenir of my Grandpa, whom I love and who was one
of the greatest "characters" I've ever known.)
I get out of my
bed and go to switch on the bedroom light but... NUTTIN'! The light
doesn't come on, and I can clearly hear someone moving around in my
house (which I live alone in, by the way). So, in the dark, I find the
doorknob and turn it. I begin feeling my way down the hallway, pushing
the light switches as I go, but no lights are coming on. This intruder
has obviously somehow cut the electricity to my house. And I'm thinking:
How am I going to shoot this guy in the dark if I can't even see him?
I'm in the living room now, where I can hear him just some feet away,
but again the light won't turn on.
Then I turn in bed and wake
up. Oh, sheesh! I was dreaming that whole thing. I can see a red glow
from the clock radio's digital time display, but I don't even bother
looking at it, because I know the electricity is on, the gun is under my
bed and all is right with the night. So I roll over and fall back to
After what feels like a long, deep sleep, I wake up again
because there's this funky Jazz riff that keeps playing over and over
and over in my mind. I mentioned that I'd been listening to a classic
Charles Mingus album just before retiring for the night. Well, the first
track on that album is a legendary instrumental titled 'BETTER GIT IT IN YOUR SOUL' which contains a certain memorable riff that gets played and replayed during the track
that addictive riff still playing in my mind like a broken record, I
realize that I need to visit the "little boy's room". My first thought
is: Wow! I slept a lo-ooo-ng time. I'll bet it's about 10:00 AM right
now. I lean over to look at the clock radio and I smack my forehead
against the wall. You see, the way I have my bed positioned, one side of
it is flush against one wall, and sometimes I wake up on the wrong side
of the bed.
So, I roll over and lean over the other way and the clock says... 4:33 AM.
Hokey-Smoke! All those many hours ago when I first looked at the clock and it changed from 4:44 to 4:45, I was dreaming THEN TOO!
I get up and visit the "little boy's room". And, yes, I'm REALLY awake this time!
I go back to bed. I toss and turn for about 45 minutes and fear I'll
not fall back to sleep. But at some point I do fall asleep... and dream:
at some school with God, my Sister, and a jovial, old Black man
(Charles Mingus?) who is either the superintendent of the school
district or the principal of this particular school. As I'm walking
across the grassy playground, I stoop down and notice that there are
Books all over the place, underneath the grass. I think to myself: If
anyone wants a Book they can just pull back a section of the grass and
grab one. So I grab two copies of the same Book.
Then I notice in
the grass an old pair of black, high-top tennis shoes. And since I need
some, I pick them up and start putting them on my feet. I figured these
shoes had been there in the grass since the 1970s but I want them, so I
start lacing them up. Meanwhile, my Sister keeps singing the Bee Gees
song 'STAYIN' ALIVE' ["Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk..."], which is starting to really irritate me. ("Walk" = black, high-top tennis shoes?)
God and the old Black man are kind of joking around with each other,
saying funny things, and sometimes yakking to me. And I'm struggling to
get these shoes laced up properly. The left shoe was fine but the other
didn't feel secure. That's when I noticed that the right shoe doesn't
have shoe laces, but it's a long, sheer strand of nylon ribbon (like
you'd use as the finishing touch on gift wrapping), and whoever had
laced it up in the past had missed quite a number of the eyelets. Plus,
the shoe was kind of ratty and the leather was ripped badly in a few
But I needed and wanted the shoes, so I just tied up the
ribbon, telling myself that later, when I had some time, I would start
from scratch and re-lace that right shoe properly with that ribbon.
that point, God walked away across the grassy playground (exit, stage
left) and just then, my Sister interrupted the jovial, old Black man
with a question. The man, in a friendly, joking way replied to her, "Can't you see that I'm talking here to God and tennis shoe boy god?" (Interestingly, last night, I signed off on my Email to Robin the "Girl Wonder" as "~ Boy Woeful". One shoe was woeful, and the man referred to me as "tennis shoe boy god". Not sure, but that might be some sort of clue.)
that's the exact moment when I woke up (again), rolled over to look at
the clock (without smacking my head on the wall this time) and it was
10:03 AM. And for the first time in several days, my stomach feels fine.
Gem Julie, now that 'A To Z' is over and you have more time, would you
please interpret my dreams for me and then pass your interpretation on
to my psychiatrist.
He needs all the help he can get.
~ Stephen T. McCarthy
Welcome back, my friends, to the "Battle" that never ends.
We're so glad you could attend. Come inside! Come inside!
This is 'BATTLE OF THE BANDS' ('BOTB') where you listen to different recordings of the same song and vote for the one you like best. A new Battle gets posted on the 1st and 15th of each month and six days later, on the 7th and 21st, I place my own vote, tally 'em all up and announce the winner.
Friend? Foe? Stranger? No matter, ALL are welcome. So pull up a chair, pour yourself 24 oz. of DOG BITE High Gravity Lager (or the poison of your choice) and turn it up to Eleven!
[NOTE: Links to the first year of 'BOTB' (#1 - #24) can be found at the very bottom of this page.]