Burp Springsteen

I'm at my parents' house, watching TV downstairs. Bruce Springsteen is on, performing a song on acoustic (possibly with band.) I notice his voice is extremely rough like gravel - basically, as he sings notes, one simultaneously hears an ongoing guttural noise behind it. I say, "it's sounds like he's burping while he's singing..." And just at that moment, I catch the tune and lyrics that he's singing. It's a sad minor key lament, midtempo, and the chorus lyrics just repeat the line "It's burpin' right here....it's burpin' right here..." This is presented as very sad. Like the general context is...if you want to see a man whose heart is broken, well, "it's burpin' right here..." meaning I'm right in front of you. I wake up in hysterics.

Sal Charleston

So the last attempt at 'jump starting' the ol' dream blog here didn't work out so well. It is now a year and half later. But here's another:

With my cousin Tom and his dad, in a field near a house in the country. This is our 'first mission'..to infiltrate this house in broad daylight. Espionage/G.I.JOE overtones. I seem to have an action figure with me as if to make the point...the figure has his name written directly on its plastic - the name is Sal Charleston.

Uncle gets in house, second floor balcony. Tom and I waylaid, by two people sitting in field suddenly. We have to pretend to be dozing off...I try to keep one eye just a hair open now and then to be safe. Eventually we move around the house and sneak in ourselves. Very modern inside. Grand piano near central stairway. I want to play it.

Bob Dylan's "Alaska"

Fragment of a dream recorded here, in the interests of jump starting this blog again.

Bob Dylan has a new song and video, and there's a key lyric in there, and it's something along the lines of "I'll never kiss you 'til Alaska." A late 80's era Dylan is seen in the video, lip-syncing while standing near an old railroad car in the dead of winter.

The Village Honors, Elvis Intervenes

I'm in some kind of native village; many, many locals around because today is some type of ritual day. It turns out I'm one (the only non-native) of many who are to be part of some ancient rite of passage ceremony today. It's a great honor apparently, but I'm just trying to get up to speed today. I'm running late for this outdoor gathering when I realize I don't have some totem/artifact that all the other initiates are bringing to the event. I run around and find a nice woman in the market to put together one fast for me. It's sort of a combination of fruit and a folding chair, folks. I realize I have a little time, though I'm late, because there is some music to be performed before the actual ceremony starts.

Finally I'm running to get to the big crowd, but I'm stopped on the way by Elvis. Waylaid is the more appropriate term. He says I need to complete a few tasks for him right then and there, but I'm anxious because of my other important engagement.

Bat-Relief

Only one short sequence is remembered, in which I'm being grilled by my (evil) fourth grade teacher. For some reason, she forces me into an improvised stand-up comedy routine in class. I'm grasping at straws until I hit upon this idea of the Batman movie(s) being overly merchandised... That it's all well and good to have a Batman toothbrush, Batman bedsheets, a Batman tire pressure gauge, etc., but putting Batman on a box of laxatives is crossing the line. This punchline seems to have the desired effect.

$1,000,000

Someone, or some group, has stolen a million dollars in cash. Somehow I'm aware of this, and have some connection with the perpetrators. This leads to me and a female accomplice breaking into a large house to steal the cash from the ones who originally stole it. It's a dangerous operation, but it comes off ok. There's a large garage, with an automatic door that we use to escape with the cash (it was hidden in a mattress.)

We are driving away from the house, suburban street, day time, when I realize how much danger we are in if anyone knows we stole the stolen money. Like having the police AND the mob out to get you. Fears are realized when it is revealed that the cash was marked and easily traced. Someone tries to deposit some at a bank, and it is shown how certain number sequences on the various bills (which look more like bank checks) fit with other sequences on subsequent bills. I think about how if the large amount of cash had been 'shuffled' more before this deposit, the sequence wouldn't have been discovered.

There is another sequence involving a million dollars; this time I've won it, split amongst a group. I consider lending some to someone who appears to be in need, and feel somewhat smug, but all this turns out to be a sketchy proposition. This sequence somehow connects to others, one involving a bowling alley and the other, a movie ticket line.

There is a final sequence before waking involving a vampire and the possibility that I myself am also one. One is seen, and then refers to an 'offscreen' master in darkness. These characters seem to be recurring from another recent dream I've had, but on waking, I don't believe that is the case.

What's The Deal With Things That Get All Over The Place?

Dream in which I'm at my parents' house in NY, downstairs in the den. I've got a new Frank Zappa CD release; it's in thin, shrink-wrapped cardboard case and the cover is vague and obscure. The title has "Helsinki" in it but it is not his real-life Helsinki concert release. But it is live...and as I listen to it on the stereo, It is all "original" to my dream (I made up the music subconsciously.) Somehow, Hendrix guests on a few tracks on the record, though it seems to date from the 1970's. I decide it's not the best thing Hendrix ever did, but that it's the best thing Zappa has done.

There is a lot of intentional avant-garde noise/improv on the record, along with some stellar jazz fusion pieces. My family is moving about, also listening and enjoying (it's Christmastime.) One song is called something like Mnnh: Htaw Mnnnhth Mno or something on the package; listening, part of it is a parody of the old standard, "What a Wonderful World." Someone else is singing it, but all the original words are replaced with random nonsense. Everyone finds it very funny.

The disc is over and the player is about to restart at the beginning, which I don't remember hearing before. On the first track of the concert, Zappa comes on stage and says something like "This song is sometimes called ****** (I forget) but the reallll title is 'Bobby Brown'" and counts it off and a vamp starts. This song I actually know (from real life) and don't want everyone in the house to be turned off by its vulgar and offensive lyrics, so I race over to shut it off. Right before starting to sing, Zappa says to the band over the vamp on the last beats before the verse, "I'm ready!" This seems out of character compared to his usually discreet and accurate conducting.

I don't get to the stereo in time to stop the music before the verse starts, but as I do, I hear it's not the 'Bobby Brown' song I know, it must be an earlier version. But it's not one from real life, it's a 'dream' version. The first line (repeated twice) is...."What's the deal with things that get all over the place?" I'm enjoying it.

I remember the music for that line. Major key, around 120 bpm, fanfare style. The descending melody (if it were C major) is:
What's the deal with | things that get all over the place
E C C G G E E E D D D D

I wake up laughing about this line.

P.S. This is the 100th dream post. New Year's resolution - remember more, blog more.

The County Fair

There's a long sequence where I'm going to play at a large county fair. (Not quite as large as the L.A. County Fair, however.) I'm backstage, there's some confusion. There's an older man, African-American, who is supposed to perform before me, he's also waiting backstage. I believe he has a sax or harmonica. We are hanging around with a few other people when we decide to break into a jam of Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On." I'm play the opening; I'm surprised when he also decides to play a second guitar instead of the sax part. I eventually sing a verse; pretty good.

It seems eventually he does get to go on stage proper, and I watch him perform with a large group and chorus. I never get to play; no problem. Afterwards, hanging out with MI and a large group in one area, where we watch on a closed circuit television what's being performed on stage in a different area. There are young boys and girls doing somewhat dangerous fire dances, where as part of their dance, part of their hair or head catches fire. I see how this is done the second time, one boy has some flammable goop on his head. A girl comes out and seems very unhappy to be forced to do this dangerous routine. But without hesitation, she does her act and her mouth, eyelashes, and other facial features are briefly surrounded by flames. The cameras show a closeup and she still seems upset, on the verge of tears.

There is another dream in which I hear that SC has died somehow. I'm not sure about it, and plan on confirming it but never do.

Another where I see MJ and he's reading a George Carlin book with a mixture of enjoyment and embarrassment.

Earthquake

Some large old building, possibly hotel. Daytime, outside on roof patio, work-related type of gathering; people sitting, drinking, etc. Somehow water is getting poured on these electric appliances near/under the tables, similar to heat lamps. I remark this seems dangerous. Turns out to not be an accident, but a plan of JC's I'm told. I'm not relieved.

Shortly after, somewhere in front of the building, a large cloud of white smoke starts to billow up, and there's general concern and fear. I move to the edge of the roof top to see what has happened. As I view the street below, everything starts to shake: moderately violent earthquake begins. Minor panic on the roof, but no one is really moving.

One woman in particular starts to rant in terror, I feel close to her so I get up and start trying to calm her, and then (wisely, I feel) start to take her back inside to head down the stairs to get out. As we go, I remind her that even though the quake is still going, I try and relieve her by telling her that at least it's not going to get worse. It's difficult to get down the stairs, I'm trying to leap across this wide stairwell to save time. Not sure what floor we are on, but I collapse for some reason, possibly exhaustion. The woman looks at me, devastated. Then I feel like I'm looking for self-pity, so I find a way to get back up and not give up on our escape. At the same time, I'm wondering what's happened - thinking maybe the roof came in on us and we died and now I'm experiencing some inner 'dream.'

After I get up though, now she is on the ground, and not playing around, terribly ill; dead, in fact, rather quickly. She transforms in these dying moments, becoming a great deal smaller and also going completely bald and white. Horrifying. It all happens quickly, I'm wondering if I should carry her out still at the same time realizing I'm now dealing with a dead body (of sorts.)

There's another sequence afterwards in which I'm on the streets in Boston possibly, with no money. I'm wondering how I'm going to survive without any, and remember I still have my guitar and things, so perhaps I'll have to go play in the park or square for change, playing for my life now basically. There's a young African-American woman who is also in the same financial boat. I'm suggesting to her what she can do, who she might go to, when I realize I may as well just take her in and give her a place to stay, since I have nothing to lose either. Sitting on a stoop, I describe how we'll both have to make extreme cutbacks to survive.

Shortly after I'm inside somewhere, a room right off the street, still daytime. There's a bed I attempt to get some quick rest on, but getting in, it's way too short for my height. Some people (SR) are around and discuss going to get some unhealthy food.

Fridge Cam

At some type of party, possibly at CA's house, but somewhat reminiscent of Queens Village. I'm going to the refrigerator to get a drink; CA says wait and checks his mobile phone. He has a small spy cam inside the fridge networked to the internet, so he can check inside the fridge from anywhere i.e. his cell. He sees what is in there and where, and then asks me to get him something specific.

The Evil Wizard

Outside somewhere, nighttime, with my cousin Tom and a group of 4-5 older, burly men. We are planning to break into a nearby jail to free one of our wrongly imprisoned cohorts. It's a dangerous plan, involving me and my cousin used as spies/infiltrators - doesn't seem like the best plan. Something happens during the huddle and the plan is postponed - I'm thankful due to the potential danger of it.

We end up in a crowded pub, blending in as if we hadn't been just planning that A-Team type adventure minutes before. People are getting beers and talking - I feel the need to urinate and head towards the back room to find the WC. There is a bathroom and also a back storeroom, kind of a dark garage/kitchen. I urinate in some woefully inadequate receptable, or two, and a bit on the floor also. Some things can't be controlled.

I'm coming out of the back room, into a small lighted room with a few tables, that leads back into the main darker pub area. There is just one man seated, old but sharp, longish white hair; a disturbing presence clad in black. He starts to say something to me before I turn around to see him properly. He quotes some old tapes I'd recorded with my cousin (in real life) 20 years ago. It shocks me to hear someone know these tapes in detail, and I search for a explanation. I seem to remember Tom telling me he had played some of our old music to a guitar student or two. As I'm thinking that, the old man takes on the form of a teenager, so I assume this is such a student. But there's something wrong about all this, i.e. the shape-changing. We exchange a few words but I'm entirely convinved that this is some sort of message to me from supernatural forces. Dark foreboding. The student/old wizard in disguise leaves quickly.

I go to follow, into the crowded bar. Cross paths with Tom, I tell him what happened, ask him about this particular student he may have had (who had given me a name.) Tom confirms partially but incredulously says that that boy actually died 6 months ago - I couldn't have just seen him. At first I think he's joking with me, but he's not.

We feel the need to hunt down the shape-shifter 'demon' before he gets too far, to bring resolution to this. We leave and drive around the area. Now very late at night, in some suburban neighborhood we follow the trail to a small, flat grassy field. In the middle of it, we find some bones, skeletal remains presumably of the boy. It feels like the wizard in black took the form of the dead boy, but the form only lasted a short time until the body was entirely used up. The foreboding spirit escaped.

In another separate dream, there's a sequence at night where I'm at first driving through a bad neighborhood, then walking. There's a long dark alley that seems to lead somewhere well lit, but it's a 8 foot drop down to the concrete from where I am. I drop down and begin to nervously walk towards the light. There seemed to be a body slumped in a dark corner when I dropped down, dead or homeless or both, but I ignore it and keep moving. I get to the end but the light is just this small room, a dead end, so I have to go back - frightened. As I head back down the alley, one side of this long bench/divider, there's a second body lying flat out on the ground, possibly blood around it. I bypass it, but shortly after, I hear that body get up very quickly - someone was faking - and the sound of the body's speed in the concrete alley is very jarring - horror. Simultaneously, this malevolent person says "Having a bad day?" mockingly. I can't get back up the 8 foot wall quickly. The villain approaches...

The Biggest Tongue in Dreamland

In a house, I'm eager to cut off some of my hair (hair style circa nearly 20 years ago...) I enter the bathroom with scissors and begin cutting. Somehow this progresses to cutting off the literal tip of my tongue, which at the time doesn't seem too destructive - more cosmetic. But I make a second more tragic cut too far, and there is severe damage - blood and loss of form; some major vessel has been cut. The bleeding stops to reveal the truncated tongue, with a hole in it (or two) revealing where the vessel should have continued on. Oddest of all, this depressing tongue (that was a pun) modification causes it to intermittently expel small bursts of flame, which I must douse within my mouth. Great anxiety and concern...sense of all being irretrievably damaged. Then thinking of confessing problems to someone knowledgable...problems go back many, many years...

[Awakening - terribly disturbed by dream. Very odd synchronicity on logging in after waking, however: my spare copy of B. Kliban's The Biggest Tongue in Tunisia sold during the night on amazon.com...]

After over a year hiatus, I've decided to return to the dream blog. I've also decided to turn comments on. Be kind.

I, Ghost

In some dark house, investigating some type of death/crime scene. One or two other investigators with me...something involving a stairway and a statue-like woman. Then - I appear to be a ghost in the house, myself. I'm in a dark cellar, looking for the exit. Someone has seen me - as a ghost - and I need to flee because ghosts should not be caught. I'm trying to get outside, but when I find one exit, it appears to lead to a lower, identical basement instead. Finally I get outside into the sunlight. This is good, because I discover that, as a ghost, I cannot be seen in direct sunlight. But I could be seen in darker areas/shadows, so I'm glad (relatively) to be out in the sun and subsequently totally invisible. As I walk down the street, I'm able to fly up 20-30 feet into the air and hover. There is a mixture of pleasant anonymous solitude, and terrible alienation/loneliness.

Rice, Bus, Private Novak, and Beatles Reunion

I'm at a crowded cafeteria/restaurant/party. Everyone is getting on various buffet lines. There's someone here I recognize (not in real life), he's a musician I apparently played bass for years ago. He thinks I won't remember who he is, like I've gone on to other things and he hasn't. Another sycophantic bandmate of his is there and graciously gives me a small bowl of rice. They seem proud to be around me; we joke around a bit. I look for a seat at a long table and find a spot near a window. Very crowded table, mostly women, but commentator Robert Novak is also seated next to me. There's a window within a window that is open right here, and as a result the place is swarming with birds. We need to close it...I make some humorous remark to Novak about his little secret spot here, calling it "Private Novak." Eventually most of the people and the table itself are gone, and I'm sitting with some women. There's an awkward silence which I break with a humorless "So..."

There's another sequence on a touring bus with friends including Karl. I'm moving about, being mischievous. There's some type of computer in one seat that controls an LED text display on the side of the bus. I try to come up with something silly to have on the side of the bus, and decide on the intentionally grammar-challenged "We Am The Bus."

Later, I'm trying to remember the elements of this dream so I can blog it. I come up with three elements: "Rice, Bus, Private Novak" to hopefully stay and jar my memory later. But at some point I do dream that I start to blog this, but I only remember Rice, Bus, and someone else.

I'm at the Grove or Farmer's Market where, surprisingly, there's a Beatles reunion concert happening outside. As I approach the area, I remember there's only McCartney and Starr still living, so it will probably be more of a McCartney show. Paul is playing bass (possibly Rickenbacker) and joking about, miming to a record badly or something. Ringo is not seen but is presumably on drums. I find an area to sit not far from the stage, it's crowded but not what you would think considering. I don't recognize the song. Later in an alcove, there's a small boy of unknown ethnicity who is sort of hanging around me - he wants to grow up to be tall. I tell him he has to drink a lot of milk, even though he is of an age at which it may already be too late. There's another fragment later, something about a prank call that ends with "the world of..." and then a hang up without concluding the sentence.

The Healing Festival

I'm outside in some alley behind a row of small apartments, nighttime. Some friends are inside at a party. There's a sort of slight maze getting out of this alley...I overhear a guy on the street nearby, homeless possibly, asking people for band aids or something similar. I remember I have some in my gig bag, so I put some in my pocket in case they're needed. NM is leaving out of the back door of the apartment party, going home. I'm concerned she'll be accosted by the strange man. He is strange, indeed...when I get over to the street, some other people have gathered around him, but at a cautious distance. He's somewhat insane, arms flailing and acting as a menace. Regrettably, he singles me out and grabs me and we struggle a bit. I pull out the band aid from my pocket and offer it as an attempt to ameliorate this situation. He accepts it, examines it, it's not quite what he wanted but will do, says he can "cut it in two" or something similar.

Two Kings

I'm playing some type of video game based on the film King Kong. (In reality I've never played any such game.) The game has complex controls involving both the mouse and the keyboard. While playing, I'm simultaneously reading game instructions, which at one point suggest hitting one or two certain keys to access the "chops" cam. I have no idea what this will be, until I'm able to hit those keys during gameplay, while playing as King Kong. "Chops" mode turns out to be a gameplay camera angle from inside Kong's mouth, which is recognized by an inside view of the ape's fangs and beyond, a view of what is directly in front of his face. The view is rather obsructed between the gnashing teeth and the limited view out of the mouth; mostly, some extreme closeups of an enemy dinosaur are seen, mid-battle. Some other keyboard commands cycle the view to different depths from inside Kong, with strange colored membrane/skins resulting.

Another sequence, some sort of nighttime field trip with many schoolmates and/or current colleagues. The area resembles the shopping mall near Hollywood and Highland. There's a crowded toy store overstocked with a variety of toys, lots of bizarre Star Wars figures of dream origin; aliens, stormtroopers, packs of 6 R2-D2s for some type of target game. Leaving the area, I'm able to coast or slide down a lengthy set of long wide steps instead of walking.

Arriving at a King's X concert with MI. Crowds filing into auditorium, we spot an empty row, only to find it's been reserved. These reservations appear in the form of quarters variously placed along a thin metal bar connecting all the chairs in the row. Exiting the row, I'm holding the bar up or down waiting for someone else to take it from me so I can keep moving (like holding an open door.) We circle around and then back down to find some seats in the front row stage left - MI is smiling, excited by her find. But it appears that those sitting in the front might be hit by water or other projectiles from the stage - someone nearby has a lead apron (dentist's chair style.) We don't seem to have been given anything like that though. The show begins; I'm hoping MI will enjoy the more soulful aspects of the band. There is a strange unknown person playing bass in the band who seems unstable. It's a rather bizarre show, high on operatic style staging and drama. Indeed at one point the front row is doused with water, first from a single glass, then a repeated stream. I'm able to deflect the stream with two cupped hands remarkably well, and Iprotect myself and those seated nearby. MI is on my left and there is an unknown older woman to my right who is...overly friendly.

In another short sequence, I'm viewing a wishlist of MV's on Sweetwater.com. It appears he wants a 5 string Fender sunburst bass: roughly $850. Closer examination reveals the composite picture is misleading; a Fender amp is actually desired.

Find the Chimes

Reading a post from my cousin Tom on the internet. It's a promo for the next show he's putting on at Pisces Cafe. It's a wintertime holiday show and in addition to music there will be a "Find the Chimes" part of the show, where apparently Tom will have hidden some chimes around Babylon and participants will have to find them, to win a prize perhaps. Tom also announces he's changing the name of his performing entity to something very long conglomerated name which includes "the Mothers of Westbury", a play on Zappa's Mothers of Invention band.

Another dream in which I'm in a theatre watching a film with my parents and sister. Some people are talking loudly and it's bothersome. Eventually the offending row moves further ahead somehow, but now my sister is talking out loud in a normal speaking volume. I gently try to correct her, and I vocally demonstrate the difference between quiet whispering and regular speech. She gets upset, but seems remorseful later when she passes me in a lobby area, running out lamenting that she's "a dense girl."

Bad Dudes and a Raging Bull

In some large old house with many other peers, first part is forgotten. Eventually I'm in a room with a few other men and I hear that there may be some invasion of some kind. I immediately hide; no one else does, either they don't take it seriously or they are confused or too fearful to move. Unfortunately, the threat is real. Hiding in a small dark room with some others, eventually the door is opened by a man with a gun who (with others) is taking all the people in the building hostage. We are separated from the women, and forced to sit on the grass outside. There is some terrorizing, i.e. the women are particularly frightened by some gruesome activity revealed by the bad guys (who are all white, 30s.) "Gruesome" entails dismembered bodies, possibly including Lucille Ball's, the sheer audacious horror of which causes some women to scream. Other than that stuff, the bad guys are not so bad, in fact there's immediately some Stockholm Syndrome going on. I ask to use the bathroom and am allowed to go up to the top of the house, the roof in fact, where some young kids are playing. There is some fantastic ending sequence to this whole scene, but it is forgotten. Somehow I escape, and end up in a courtroom at the prosecution of the criminals. An idea is in the air to not testify against them, since the repercussions might mean death if we do.

There is another sequence in which MV and I are talking. He mentions some popular musician and says he doesn't really know him too well. MV has also brought along what amounts to a live, raging bull, which eventually is rather over-sized. Strong, bucking wildly, and dangerous. Reddish brown; woolly mammoth? He's after me and he chases me around an outdoor area, possibly Queens Village, at one point leaping over a car to get at me. Somehow I continue to elude him. I trick him into following me up the steps of the stoop and leaping off the side past me.

There was a sequence a few days ago, in which I have to bring some videos to CD, who is in a meeting in an area not completely dissimilar from his usual one, though it's more house-like than office-like. The videos are on a gray, single stack bookstore-like cart.

Blog About the Blog / Mean Streets

There's a sequence about having this very blog mentioned/reviewed on a related popular web site, resulting in heavy exposure. I'm not sure if this has happened or I'm just telling people about this idea, in the dream. It was a bit strange, dreaming about this dream blog.

A long sequence taking place in an unknown city. In some type of bar or club, there's going to be a robbery and/or some type of assault. A gang of kids (resembling high school) has entered, has "unfinished business" with the owner. Maybe some deal has gone bad. I (and others) decide it's a good time to get the hell out of there before violence starts. Dangerous streets outside; concerned we will be "wrongly" beaten: hate crime. Somehow we navigate through alleys and sidestreets unnoticed. We arrive at this other place like a building or warehouse, and it seems we have found some contraband that the earlier gang had been missing. Since we have it and the buyer is here, we decide to sell it directly and take the money. Unfortunately that gang suddenly shows up and we really can't say anything in our defense, caught red-handed stealing their stuff and selling it.