The privilege is mine
To be sung to sleep
By feathered friends
With black beaks
Sheathed in dark wings
The privilege is mine
To be sung to sleep
By feathered friends
With black beaks
Sheathed in dark wings
Oh, woes and comfort
Are the wombs of thy nature
Not in mine eyes
Discerning truth from lies
Tis’ not blinking passion
Or of windy desire
Lulling between thee
A meadow of daisies and dreams
Or upon a smoldering pyres pile
But what is this seed
That birthed thee
Mired among charity and greed
Do thou choose
Wisdom from fools
“For to be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.” – Paul in the book of Romans.
Two nights ago I woke up before dawn. Knowing I didn’t have long to get up I went back to sleep anyway. I fell deeply into what seemed like days of intense dream life. Vivid and surreal but actually feeling very real, both emotionally and physically.
I was back in Panama City Beach, but just visiting for a spell. Everyone seemed to have missed me. I was enjoying going from place to house saying my, “Hi’s an how do’s.” The beach was preparing for some big holiday weekend. Maybe Memorial Day or Labor Day. (Not the Fourth, there were no firework displays.) I was then on the balcony of my old apartment leaning on the banister. It was beautiful. The beach was whiter and wider. The water calm, clear and green. It wasn’t crowded like I knew it would be a couple of miles down the road where the resorts started. I am enjoying the warm afternoon with a cool breeze, shirtless and barefoot. With a cold drink and a smoke, I observe small watercraft buzzing to an fro. Bobbing inner tubes and assorted floaties. Swimming an splashing kids and adults alike. Kites, umbrellas and quick skating catamarans. Then there are the joyous noises and giggles of children frolicking in the pool below. I watch as tourist, (vacationers if you like) make their way toured the beach, towels and mats in hand and kids in tow. Some are pulling hand crafted haulers made with pvc and big fat tires. Pongee cords crisscrossing ice chest, fishing rods, toys and buckets. I am happy with a quick feeling like a noble surveying his domain.
Then I’m standing in a circle on a street with a group of guys. We all have the same black tee shirts on with white block lettering identifying “security.” A cop is standing in the center slowly turning in place and explaining our duties and how the walkie-talkies work. We were to keep an eye on things and radio for help if needed. We were all locals, dudes I hung out with, even knew the cop. I’m excited, we were going to have fun tonight! We slip into groups and headed off in separate directions. I somehow assumed the role of supervisor of this ragtag band of local laid back security force. I suggest areas the guys should keep an eye on and the group thins out as we stroll west down the sidewalk.
I am finally solo and head away from the sun blocking resort towers and traffic. I come to a stretch of beach where there is a large wide concrete boardwalk along the waters edge. It has a thick two foot wall separating the water from walkers, bicyclists, and skaters being pulled by their pitbulls. Across the street is a line of tidy pastel beach bungalows. They are separated by little picket fences with little gates inclosing little grassy yards or patios. People are setting up grills, chairs, and tapping kegs. Music is drifting from all around. Periodically there is a squawk over the talkie and I respond with something logical to resolve the issue. As I stroll down the boardwalk, I hand out pleasantries with a wave of hand across the street or hang and rap a bit with folks sitting on the wall. Everyone is smiles and in good cheer. At one point I look down at the water and I can see the white sandy bottom through the clear deep. Even the sea life seemed just as excited. Large schools of small silvery minnows jumping, bigger fish cruising in smaller groups, and larger fish still toured the bottom. Stingrays, manta rays and sea turtles precariously glide across the surface as blue and stone crabs busy the bottom.
As the onset of the late afternoon came, and the sun made a slow climb down the stairs toured the water, things started to get more hectic. Higher energy started to rattle the atoms a little faster. Boats start to back up to the boardwalk and their parties mirror the ones across the street. As it gets darker, bigger boats arrive. These are no longer fishing skiffs or pontoons. These are cabin cruisers, and then yachts, sailboats, etc… Parties are catching like wildfire. The boat parking starts to get intense. Boats are jockeying and bumping for spots as the sea wall becomes a marina. The ruckus grows louder as people are jumping from boat to boat. Petitioners are helping others squeeze in, while others are getting pissed off for bumping their boat. Someone fell in and there is a scream and then laughter and I start to get nervous. This is getting out of hand and dangerous. I have to do something and my nervousness turns to anxiety. But I am alone and I don’t want to start barking at people in or at a drunk fest. After a quick panic, I begin to go down the line and help people moor their crafts. I ask them to settle down and be safe. “Please no injuries or worse, huh?” Most seem cool weather they heed my words or not. Controlling this crowd is not an option.
As night grabs hold of the sky, the fires start to burn. Grills, fire pits an such. It even seems that the street lights are gas lamps of old. Was that a torch someone carried?! The “boardwalk marina” and the houses rival each other. The street is some how narrower and empty except those who cross it. I am really enjoying strolling down the middle when a commotion catches my eye. Off to the left at the wall. I hear singing and then shouting as boats are scrambling to make a spot. I look up in awe as a giant wooden sailing ship is fast backing up to the boardwalk. It’s like something out of a pirate movie! It is lit up with oil lanterns and the rear captain quarters windows flicker with stained glass. So many people line the railings, stairs and decks. They even straddle jutting posts and beams of the towering ship. They are all holding up drinks and singing in unison some sort of Celtic jig. It drowns out everything else. There are great cheers the closer it gets, but it is moving to fast! My heart stops a beat at the perceived moment of impact. The other boats part just in time as it contacts the wall with a loud thud. The ground shakes and my vision vibrates. The people are all thrust toured the rear and almost over the railing. One guy does go over the back and I’m filled with dread! But he catches a beam on the way down. Shirtless, shoeless, and only in his jeans he hangs there laughing. People race from across the street and group under him. As he lets go, they catch him and there is a thunderous cheer of triumph. Then the crowd disperses and the parties rage on.
I turn back and make my way down the crowded sidewalk on the bungalow side of the street. I stop here an there and go through this gate and that. I find a keg and fill a cup. I meet an greet some people and maybe sit by a fire pit a bit. I don’t drink much but enough to be social and cool for a security dude. There are some dramas that ensue but I can’t remember that part of the dream. But they are there like a shadow. I get to an intersection and abide there for a second under the street lamp. The side street comes steeply down a hill and ends at the front beach street. It is quiet here. There are no boats parked at the wall. I gaze out at the lights that run down the beach at an arc and the black vastness of the ocean. I get on the horn to check on the guys, see how they are holding up. A series of “cool’s, fines, a ok’s” and one “muy bien” follow. Then the cop chirps in and tells everybody they can take off if they want.
All of a sudden I hear screaming coming from up the side street! In a flash, a wave runner streaking and sparking, slides down the middle of the street on fire! I can see an outline of a person in the fire. As it grinds pass me it hooks a left before getting to the bottom of the street. It hops the curb on the other side of the street and flies right over the picket fence of the house on the corner. I sprint across the street in panic and think what a horrible, stupid stunt. As I get to the fence and look over, I’m amazed! The wave runner actually had two people on it and they landed right in the middle of a giant and deep hot tub! The water was boiling and steaming and lit up by under water lights. The two riders are still straddling the seat facing each other. They look up at me giggling and are munchin on a giant bag of cheese balls! (Is that a metaphor?)
I get to the resort end of the beach. Things look like a water side village from some theme park. Odd shaped and leaning shops, shacks and shanties. Wooden decks, piers and walkways are tied to pilings and skirted over the calm black water. They snake between, around and across the resort buildings. There are porch side café’s, pubs and taverns. Gas lanterns and wall torches light the boardwalks and glow orange yellow off the water. There is an occasional quiet alley way, dark and peaceful. But most of it is crowded with loitering and staggering roamers. Pockets of hippies and vagrant beach bum locals school together with djembes and guitars. Tourist lean over the railings of there resort balconies singing with drinks in hand. There are wandering groups of laughing women mixed with parrot heads and golfers sporting their tucked in Polo shirts and khaki shorts. A single file line of Hare Krishna’s cut through the crowd chanting. Their baldheads together with flowing robes an banging tambourines seem so natural. I moseyed and faded through the crowd as my Uncle Steve shut the bathroom door and turned on the fan to prepare to do his morning business.
Dream journal post 5/8/11
I dreamt all night but only remember the frightening eye and toothy grin of a velociraptor.
“I can’t wait to leave this place. It’ll be great when I die. Until then I pick weird shit out of my nose and sometimes go without dinner.” – From the movie, Choppertown, The Sinners.
It seems that I dream very heavy up on the farm. I always have. Long, deep, intricate dreams. Dreams of goulash meanings, purposes and themes.
Last night I dreamt that I was a member of my favorite band “The Pixies.” What was strange was that I was the bass player. (If you are familiar with the band, then you would understand why that is strange.) We were back stage getting ready for one of their biggest and last shows. I became aware that I was dreaming and I was neither a member of the band, nor a bass player. But the members seemed intent that I was to get ready for the concert. That I had been a friend and member since the beginning.
Frank was running around making sure that everyone knew the program and their parts to play. Kim was sitting at a table smoking and seemed amused at the nervous Frank. There was no Joey, and the drummer was a silhouette sitting in the corner of the room. Excitement was thick as the crowd started to get loud and people were buzzing around preparing. That’s when the anxiety hit me like a wave. What am I going to do?! I don’t belong here. I am an imposter!
I wanted to tell them so badly. Find a way out. I didn’t know what I was doing. But how was I going to explain that I was not who they thought I was? Then the thought of playing on stage with this band, on this occasion, became a surge of excitement and thrill. Not only was I hanging backstage with these people, but I was a member! How awesome is that? So I got my head together and tried to suppress my nerves. I’ve messed with the bass before and I knew all the songs. (Well most of them.) And in my head I started to concentrate very deeply.
Then all of a sudden I was picking up a very large, silver metallic flecked limousine from a guy who was expecting me. It all felt natural and I forgot about the band. Then I became enthralled by the beauty of the car. It was chrome trimmed with black leather interior. I remember thinking how unique that there were two swivel captain seats up front directly behind the drivers’ cabin. A long bench seat running down the left side with the customary bench in the rear. I was to pick up people and ferry them to the concert and other various destinations. Strange and adventurous fares ensued.
I knew I had to get back to the band. So I parked the limo in the vacant lot of a certain club. When I left the car I was backstage sitting at a table with the band during intermission. Frank was explaining how he wanted to try something different. Each of us was to choose our favorite song to play for an encore. Feeling disoriented because I didn’t remember playing the first set. I again became stressed. I must have played ok. I just wish I could have savored the feeling, the memory that I didn’t have. I missed it! Maybe it was for the best. (Being conscious of the fact, I could have totally blown it.) Then I couldn’t think of one song! So I asked Frank for a list. After a puzzled look, he produced an entire list of all their songs. I choose the first one I knew, “Hey.”
In the morning I went back to the lot to retrieve the limo. I was dismayed to find it blocked in by other limos. After much bluster and argument with the club owner and the other drivers, I was able to exit the lot. My final destination was an afternoon Bar-B-Q. When I arrived, the house was full of my friends and acquaintances. I gladly joined the festivities. In the crowd I noticed that Sheila (my ex-wife) was there with a guy. Along with her mom, dad and her sister. Andrea greeted me and seemed friendly enough. She had to excuse herself to handle some drama. After the party began to wine down, I headed out to the car. At the door on the sidewalk, Sheila walked up to me, and in a nonchalant but nocuous manner said, “I know what you did last night.” Then she turned and walked away.
I shrugged in confusion and thought for a moment, then barked back at her, “Which part?” Then a rooster crowed.
I dreamt of travel and adventure. Avoiding harm by the skin of my teeth from evil. Being chased by the undead but taking time to interact with other peoples crazy lives. At one point I was falling in love with a beautiful girl.
Then I became aquatic in some sort of mall or terminal. Everything was under water but people were meandering around in a normal fashion. Families, business folks an such shopping and whathave you. I was gliding through the water lying on my chest in some sort of high powered submersible, dry and looking through a bubble of glass. With my arms and hands stretched out in front of me controlling joysticks, I started hunting shark. The sharks were twisting and darting threatening the seemly ignorant public. My neat (and yellow) submarine came equipped with a targeting system. Hazy neon crosshairs enclosed in a circle flowed across the glass before me, commanded by the joysticks. Guns from either side fired glowing bolts disintegrating the beasts. Those dam sharks!
Suddenly I met up with some old friends from church. (Lance and Liz.) We were all going to the same place.San Diego! We agreed to travel together. But it turned into some sort of weird hindrance to meet them at the terminal on time. (Airport, cruise ship?) Strange occurrences tried to keep my attention off my goal. I finally made it to the gate, greeted them with smiles and jubilation, and woke up.