on dreaming odd dreams and what to do after you finally wake-up:
LATE ONE RECENT NIGHT...
LATE ONE RECENT NIGHT...
ALONE IN THE DROWSY fog between being awake and falling asleep, as I went deeper into the fog, I began to think about some really strange stuff. First came the vision of me laying flat on my back on a hospital bed. I thought that I heard some unfamiliar noises. So I opened my eyes. Hank Williams and Ray Charles and Elvis Presley were standing at the end of the bed, laughing at me. They were dead. I wasn't. Or at least I didn't think I was. So I quickly transferred my thoughts and began to think for the first time about death, only to find myself on a space-shuttle with Bette Middler and Spaulding Gray. We seemed to be heading in the direction of the Pearly Gates. They were singing a duet: G0tta along without you before I met you, gonna get along without you now, bye-bye my honey, so long, my baby....
That made me feel better.
Happy.
The same way I had felt when I left my wife.
If this were death, it was absolutely wonderful. We then arrived at the Pearly Gates. Saint Peter gave me an introductory interview and informed me my roommate would be Ralph Nader. He quickly apologized when he saw the look on my face: We are rather over crowded, he said, to tell you the truth, I don't like the guy, either. In my opinion, he's somewhat of a Putz. I'll see what I can do. I honestly wish that I could send you over to The Heavenly-Gates House of Opera to see the Sugar Plum Fairies in concert before you have to meet Ralph, it would put you in a much better frame-of-mind, but they are having some minor problems with the Big Boss lately, and they've gone out on strike. I paused to think for a moment what fairies would strike about. Peter then gave me a sympathetic pat on the back. And was on my way to meet Ralph. Ralph turned out be a sourpuss. So I went for a walk. Obviously, I was even more confused and began to wonder if I actually were in Heaven when I spotted Bonito Mussolini sitting on a bench inside of a small park with Adolf Eichmann, playing a game of domino's and eating ham-and-Swiss sandwiches.
Clearly, if this were true, God's redemption was far greater than I once thought it was. It was a short moment after that, however, when J. Edgar Hoover came running up and quickly cuffed them both: You are under arrest! I know you guys are Mob guys. You soon will be joining the dinosaurs in the rot of the Heavenly swamp! I couldn't help but take note of the fact that Hoover wore a pinkie ring on his finger, had on a rather ill-fitting blue dress and a pair of shoes with black stiletto heels. He looked as if he could be inebriated. Sober or not, either way it was quite obvious that he may not on duty or he wouldn't be dressed like that, which made me ask myself the arrest were legal. I even thought that it could be a body-double posing as Hoover, then asked myself again: Why on Earth would anybody in their right-mind, particularly if he were a guy who was a rather pudgy man with a bulldog-face, want to wear lipstick and an ill-fitting dress and high-heels that were obviously not a proper fit?
But there was nobody else around to ask.
So I continued on my stroll.
It was almost midnight now.
I then found myself to be in what I assumed to be the Heavenly version of Atlantic City. I took note of a girl on the beach. She had a thick, chunky body encased in denim shorts and a dark red T-shirt, blond hair, and seemed somewhat familiar. There was a man in front of her, licking her right ear. He was wearing a pair of dirty white jeans and had a small gold earring sticking out his left nostril. Above them, the people on the pier at the front of The Bates Motel were watching, some of them smiling. The girl looked to her left, then began to lick his left ear. It was at that moment when I spotted a film crew. I saw a fat man behind a camera. It was Alfred Hitchcock. He directed the girl to pull out of the licking man's grip and dash between the parked cars to her right. The man in the dirty white jeans was now behind her, running hard. The people on the pier just watched. As they came closer to where I was standing, I recognized them both. It was Marilyn Monroe and Anthony Perkins.
The next thing I knew, Ralph Nader was at my side. They're shooting another remake of Psycho. Janet Leigh was unavailable, he said. Sorry I can't stick-around, I need to go take a poop. After that, he vanished. Then Frank Sinatra appeared. He was bumping up against me in what I thought was a rather lewd way. Sorry you're stuck with Ralph, Pal. I had the misfortune to be his roomie when I first came up. Had to learn breath control in order to put up with the tight-ass little bastard. Thank God I had to go on tour with the Tommy Dorsey Band. I'm now rooming with Louie Armstrong. See you later, Buddy. I got a gig to go to.
I was once again alone.
But it was only a split-second after that when I found myself standing in a dark saloon in Deadwood, South Dakota, somewhere near Spearfish Canyon, sipping beer with Wyatt Earp and the Sundance Kid at the bar. Two men who emanated power and danger. Earp looked me in-the-eye: There are two things I never want to hear you talk about: Ralph Nader and J. Edgar Hoover he said. The Sundance Kid chimed-in and added: Please forgive Wyatt. He gets to be a bit of a grouch when he thinks about those two guys. It brings up turbulent emotions. Dark tones of anger. Then his trigger-finger starts to get itchy, if you know that I mean. I didn't. But I was too afraid to tell him that. The Kid then went on to say, We saw you on the beach with Sinatra. Don't you love his shading, dark tones, light tones and bending tones, when he sings? I sure do. Wyatt smiled: I agree with Sundance. What Sinatra has is beyond talent, he said: He has some sort of magnetism that goes in high revolution than that of anybody else. Wherever he goes, there is a certain electricity permeating the air. It's like Mack the Knife is in town and the action is starting. The Sundance Kid gave a small shake to his head: I can't help thinking that somewhere deep inside of Frank, there must exist a scared little boy. I think that may be because he was born in Hoboken.
It was then that Wyatt suggested a toast. The three of us raised our glasses in a toast to Frank, put our arms around each other's shoulder, and began to sing in unison: And now the end is near, and so I face the final curtain, my friends, I'll say it clear, I've lived a life that's full and certain, I've traveled each and every highway; and more, much more than this, I did it my way. Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention, I did what I had to do, I did it my way...
I woke-up crying. My eyes had become icy nuggets filled with tears. I shook my head to make sure I was awake. I was. I grabbed a Kleenex to dab at my eyes and blow my nose. I took my pulse to make certain I wasn't dead. I wasn't. I gave a sigh of relief. I got out of my bed, took a shower and shaved. Ran my dentures under hot water. Inserted the denures into my mouth. I put on some clothes and went out the door. I was ready for the day. I planned to go out for a walk in order to clear my head...
...I found myself wishing that my life was as exciting as my dream had been, hoping against hope that no matter how bad the shedding of tears may have been, they were tears of memory and joy; and my hope was that a new one as delightful and exciting would soon be on its way...
That made me feel better.
Happy.
The same way I had felt when I left my wife.
If this were death, it was absolutely wonderful. We then arrived at the Pearly Gates. Saint Peter gave me an introductory interview and informed me my roommate would be Ralph Nader. He quickly apologized when he saw the look on my face: We are rather over crowded, he said, to tell you the truth, I don't like the guy, either. In my opinion, he's somewhat of a Putz. I'll see what I can do. I honestly wish that I could send you over to The Heavenly-Gates House of Opera to see the Sugar Plum Fairies in concert before you have to meet Ralph, it would put you in a much better frame-of-mind, but they are having some minor problems with the Big Boss lately, and they've gone out on strike. I paused to think for a moment what fairies would strike about. Peter then gave me a sympathetic pat on the back. And was on my way to meet Ralph. Ralph turned out be a sourpuss. So I went for a walk. Obviously, I was even more confused and began to wonder if I actually were in Heaven when I spotted Bonito Mussolini sitting on a bench inside of a small park with Adolf Eichmann, playing a game of domino's and eating ham-and-Swiss sandwiches.
Clearly, if this were true, God's redemption was far greater than I once thought it was. It was a short moment after that, however, when J. Edgar Hoover came running up and quickly cuffed them both: You are under arrest! I know you guys are Mob guys. You soon will be joining the dinosaurs in the rot of the Heavenly swamp! I couldn't help but take note of the fact that Hoover wore a pinkie ring on his finger, had on a rather ill-fitting blue dress and a pair of shoes with black stiletto heels. He looked as if he could be inebriated. Sober or not, either way it was quite obvious that he may not on duty or he wouldn't be dressed like that, which made me ask myself the arrest were legal. I even thought that it could be a body-double posing as Hoover, then asked myself again: Why on Earth would anybody in their right-mind, particularly if he were a guy who was a rather pudgy man with a bulldog-face, want to wear lipstick and an ill-fitting dress and high-heels that were obviously not a proper fit?
But there was nobody else around to ask.
So I continued on my stroll.
It was almost midnight now.
I then found myself to be in what I assumed to be the Heavenly version of Atlantic City. I took note of a girl on the beach. She had a thick, chunky body encased in denim shorts and a dark red T-shirt, blond hair, and seemed somewhat familiar. There was a man in front of her, licking her right ear. He was wearing a pair of dirty white jeans and had a small gold earring sticking out his left nostril. Above them, the people on the pier at the front of The Bates Motel were watching, some of them smiling. The girl looked to her left, then began to lick his left ear. It was at that moment when I spotted a film crew. I saw a fat man behind a camera. It was Alfred Hitchcock. He directed the girl to pull out of the licking man's grip and dash between the parked cars to her right. The man in the dirty white jeans was now behind her, running hard. The people on the pier just watched. As they came closer to where I was standing, I recognized them both. It was Marilyn Monroe and Anthony Perkins.
The next thing I knew, Ralph Nader was at my side. They're shooting another remake of Psycho. Janet Leigh was unavailable, he said. Sorry I can't stick-around, I need to go take a poop. After that, he vanished. Then Frank Sinatra appeared. He was bumping up against me in what I thought was a rather lewd way. Sorry you're stuck with Ralph, Pal. I had the misfortune to be his roomie when I first came up. Had to learn breath control in order to put up with the tight-ass little bastard. Thank God I had to go on tour with the Tommy Dorsey Band. I'm now rooming with Louie Armstrong. See you later, Buddy. I got a gig to go to.
I was once again alone.
But it was only a split-second after that when I found myself standing in a dark saloon in Deadwood, South Dakota, somewhere near Spearfish Canyon, sipping beer with Wyatt Earp and the Sundance Kid at the bar. Two men who emanated power and danger. Earp looked me in-the-eye: There are two things I never want to hear you talk about: Ralph Nader and J. Edgar Hoover he said. The Sundance Kid chimed-in and added: Please forgive Wyatt. He gets to be a bit of a grouch when he thinks about those two guys. It brings up turbulent emotions. Dark tones of anger. Then his trigger-finger starts to get itchy, if you know that I mean. I didn't. But I was too afraid to tell him that. The Kid then went on to say, We saw you on the beach with Sinatra. Don't you love his shading, dark tones, light tones and bending tones, when he sings? I sure do. Wyatt smiled: I agree with Sundance. What Sinatra has is beyond talent, he said: He has some sort of magnetism that goes in high revolution than that of anybody else. Wherever he goes, there is a certain electricity permeating the air. It's like Mack the Knife is in town and the action is starting. The Sundance Kid gave a small shake to his head: I can't help thinking that somewhere deep inside of Frank, there must exist a scared little boy. I think that may be because he was born in Hoboken.
It was then that Wyatt suggested a toast. The three of us raised our glasses in a toast to Frank, put our arms around each other's shoulder, and began to sing in unison: And now the end is near, and so I face the final curtain, my friends, I'll say it clear, I've lived a life that's full and certain, I've traveled each and every highway; and more, much more than this, I did it my way. Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention, I did what I had to do, I did it my way...
I woke-up crying. My eyes had become icy nuggets filled with tears. I shook my head to make sure I was awake. I was. I grabbed a Kleenex to dab at my eyes and blow my nose. I took my pulse to make certain I wasn't dead. I wasn't. I gave a sigh of relief. I got out of my bed, took a shower and shaved. Ran my dentures under hot water. Inserted the denures into my mouth. I put on some clothes and went out the door. I was ready for the day. I planned to go out for a walk in order to clear my head...
...I found myself wishing that my life was as exciting as my dream had been, hoping against hope that no matter how bad the shedding of tears may have been, they were tears of memory and joy; and my hope was that a new one as delightful and exciting would soon be on its way...
Godfrey, it's scott. Glad to see you're still kicking and writing. Send me an email soon.
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