Hatchetman wrote:
should be plenty of time for long JORR stories.
One of the worst things about the chicken pox is that now that I can finally sleep, I'm having these ultra vivid dreams that leave me slightly depressed upon awakening. They're not really nightmares since nightmares can be refreshing. "My 401(k) isn't actually worthless and the Dow is still at an all-time high! YES!" Instead, these dreams leave me shaking off a sense of despondence.
The first one had me on a cruise ship with a bunch of my friends from a dining club that meets one Thursday per month. But no one would sit with me at dinner and my best friend excluded me from the BINGO game. And the cruise message board. (Just kidding about that last part.)
The next one featured a guy I worked with in a restaurant thirty years ago before I went to college and he joined the Chicago Fire Department. I've only seen this guy a couple times in the last thirty years. In real life he married the boss' daughter. In the dream he was bragging about how he was going to stay at the boss' house in Vegas and do nothing but watch football for a whole month! I'm not sure why I was depressed when I woke up as I have no real desire to watch football in Vegas or anywhere else. But I was tortured by a vague sense of jealousy for a short while afterward.
In another one I was with a girl who appeared like a younger version of my wife. In fact, the basis of her was obviously my wife, but she also had some of the best traits of my exes and certain movie characters. For example, this dreamgirl had a certain careless
Georgy Girl fashion sense. Then I woke up and realized this woman did not exist. As wonderful as my actual wife is, the realization was temporarily devastating.
The last one was so detailed and vivid, I actually got up and made a few notes to remember it. There was a big punk rock show that was being held at a hot dog stand. The hot dog stand was in a cool old house that had been modern in its time. The name of the place was Colonial Hot Dogs. The show was outside in a huge parking lot. There were lots of cars parked very close together. All my friends were there including some guys from this message board. I looked at the menu and saw an item called "The Little Dog". That got me excited since I am anti-jumbo dog as the meat to condiment ratio is not correct. But then I saw it cost $5.90 and lost interest. Every band that played was terrible but we were waiting for some particular band I cannot name. In the meantime, there was another concert taking place at a competing hot dog stand across the street. That one had all girl bands. My friend Tom- the same motherfucker who snubbed me on the cruise ship- kept running across the street to see the chicks play. I introduced my friend Mike to a group of young guys I don't even know. Their leader was a big, happy guy. I told them Mike had seen the Rolling Stones about 100 times. The big guy thought I said he played with the Stones 100 times. Somehow they thought Mike was Bobby Keys. The big guy kept yelling "BOBBY KEYS!!!!" at Mike. I told Mike that the guy really thinks you're Bobby Keys. Mike said, "I know." I said, "Let him keep thinking it." Suddenly Mike disappeared. I was getting worried about him since the band we came to see was coming on. But then he pulled up driving a black Camaro packed with the young guys. They had been driving around smoking weed. The big guy was in the backseat and he slapped Mike on the back and yelled "BOBBY KEYS!!!!" Mike hit his head on the dashboard and was out like a light. Someone called an ambulance and took him away. I didn't see it but the big guy told me Mike was okay and had actually walked but he had a bad concussion and was taken to the hospital as a precaution. The guy yelled again but this time it was "JOHNNY KEYNES!!!!!!"
I awakened with a pronounced sense of sadness. That dream is either the result of my recent appearance at Riot Fest or a portent of doom for the American economy.
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), and after cartoons went off, the only thing on was Cubs games.
