Weird dreams...we've all had them. Possibly the most disturbing dream I've ever had was a recurring nightmare that I had throughout my 20s and 30s involving killer, man-eating vampire penguins. I might add, this was also during my better living through chemistry years.
Usually, like most, no matter how odd my dreams might seem, they dissipate throughout the day; usually before I've had my 2nd or 3rd cup of coffee. Maybe the caffeine zaps them out of my conscious brain...who knows.
But, this morning, I awoke from a particularly weird dream. It wasn't scary...it was just weird.
It's been said that we don't dream about strangers. Every face in our dreams is one that we have, at some point, seen in our waking lives. This morning's dream was a veritable Who's Who of faces from my past, present, and faces we've all seen on TV/movies/media.
My friends Rob, Gary, and myself were playing a pick up gig. This, unto itself, is not weird. We've done many of these. The venue in the dream was odd. My mind knew it was part of a bowling alley, but it was a bar with an open wall facing a small road. People were walking past, some stopping, some not. Musically, we were really ON in the dream. I recall that, in the dream, I was playing some weird old 1960s Japanese double cutaway, semi-hollowbody guitar. It was sort of blue...strung with heavy, flatwound strings. Odd that I'd dream about that.
If the dream wasn't anything spectacularly weird at this point, it was about to be. Three well-known faces entered the bar through the open wall: rockabilly/country legend Narvel Felts (who I've met on numerous occasions), Burl Ives....and Mitt Romney. In the dream, they had been at a political rally together and had decided to go drinking afterwards. They were feeling pretty rowdy.
Narvel got up and sang a song with us, and soon he, Burl, and Mitt were yelling out requests. Irritating as it was, we managed to play each one. Burl Ives was sitting in a chair with a giant mug of beer and half-singing along.
Mitt Romney was seriously getting on my nerves. He was trying to dance (which most men of his age probably shouldn't do in public anyway) and kept screaming for one song. What disturbed me most was that it's my favorite song of all time - "Besame Mucho".
I love that song, and even more, I love playing it. But I didn't want to play it for him. Mitt Romney is not allowed to enjoy that song! But...I eventually gave in and played a blistering version. I was nearly laying on the floor, propped up only by the guitar...I remember the way those flatwound strings felt under my fingers.
When we finally finished, Mitt was so moved by the version of "Besame Mucho", that he gave me $100 tip. Not to be outdone, Burl Ives pulled out a wad of bills big enough to choke a horse, and peeled off 5 c-notes and gave me a $500 tip.
Rob felt that he should get part of the tip...but Burl told him he already gets enough money from the royalties from his recordings of some of Rob's grandfather's songs.
The dream started to break down and get weirder from that point on. Someone broke into Rob's car and stole a box of 8 track players. Gary and I were in a brightly lit grocery store, and one minute he had a black eye, the next he didn't, and then he did again. Later in the dream, we ran into an old friend of mine at a bus stop...in the dream, she was moonlighting as a stripper and a hooker. Just for kicks. She invited us over for ham hocks and iced tea...and then the alarm clock went off.
Weirdest part...I've remembered this all day.
Usually, like most, no matter how odd my dreams might seem, they dissipate throughout the day; usually before I've had my 2nd or 3rd cup of coffee. Maybe the caffeine zaps them out of my conscious brain...who knows.
But, this morning, I awoke from a particularly weird dream. It wasn't scary...it was just weird.
It's been said that we don't dream about strangers. Every face in our dreams is one that we have, at some point, seen in our waking lives. This morning's dream was a veritable Who's Who of faces from my past, present, and faces we've all seen on TV/movies/media.
My friends Rob, Gary, and myself were playing a pick up gig. This, unto itself, is not weird. We've done many of these. The venue in the dream was odd. My mind knew it was part of a bowling alley, but it was a bar with an open wall facing a small road. People were walking past, some stopping, some not. Musically, we were really ON in the dream. I recall that, in the dream, I was playing some weird old 1960s Japanese double cutaway, semi-hollowbody guitar. It was sort of blue...strung with heavy, flatwound strings. Odd that I'd dream about that.
If the dream wasn't anything spectacularly weird at this point, it was about to be. Three well-known faces entered the bar through the open wall: rockabilly/country legend Narvel Felts (who I've met on numerous occasions), Burl Ives....and Mitt Romney. In the dream, they had been at a political rally together and had decided to go drinking afterwards. They were feeling pretty rowdy.
Narvel got up and sang a song with us, and soon he, Burl, and Mitt were yelling out requests. Irritating as it was, we managed to play each one. Burl Ives was sitting in a chair with a giant mug of beer and half-singing along.
Mitt Romney was seriously getting on my nerves. He was trying to dance (which most men of his age probably shouldn't do in public anyway) and kept screaming for one song. What disturbed me most was that it's my favorite song of all time - "Besame Mucho".
I love that song, and even more, I love playing it. But I didn't want to play it for him. Mitt Romney is not allowed to enjoy that song! But...I eventually gave in and played a blistering version. I was nearly laying on the floor, propped up only by the guitar...I remember the way those flatwound strings felt under my fingers.
When we finally finished, Mitt was so moved by the version of "Besame Mucho", that he gave me $100 tip. Not to be outdone, Burl Ives pulled out a wad of bills big enough to choke a horse, and peeled off 5 c-notes and gave me a $500 tip.
Rob felt that he should get part of the tip...but Burl told him he already gets enough money from the royalties from his recordings of some of Rob's grandfather's songs.
The dream started to break down and get weirder from that point on. Someone broke into Rob's car and stole a box of 8 track players. Gary and I were in a brightly lit grocery store, and one minute he had a black eye, the next he didn't, and then he did again. Later in the dream, we ran into an old friend of mine at a bus stop...in the dream, she was moonlighting as a stripper and a hooker. Just for kicks. She invited us over for ham hocks and iced tea...and then the alarm clock went off.
Weirdest part...I've remembered this all day.
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