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.

Miscellaneous

Earlier fragment in which Bob Dylan is somehow involved with the 60's song "Yummy Yummy Yummy I Got Love In My Tummy." Either he wrote it or took the original and added to it/re-arranged it.

I'm at a gig, looks like HP's band is playing a certain notorious song. There's his son doing the second vocal. HP sounds terrible singing. It's a large band, and I seem to now be directing it, so I ask the younger, African-American in the band to sing a certain part. They run through it and he (and the piece of music) now sounds beautiful, though someone else is critiquing his diction.

This becomes a theater piece rehearsal. There's a lot of men and one female lead. Avant-garde. She's forced to strip naked for this scene. Seems kind of gratuitous, especially in an early rehearsal. Her clothes have become a huge pile of naked Barbie dolls. For the scene, she has to sit in the pile and somehow clothe herself with the dolls. A huge afro wig might help this since the dolls get stuck in it. An understudy also is forced to strip nude, seems self-conscious, particularly when she's in the pile and realizing that when she stands up again, no dolls are going to be magically attached to her/covering her. At some point, my parents arrive in town for a visit.

Later, daytime, sort of Santa Monica Blvd, I'm driving MI's Jeep and get pulled over by a cop. I was going through some intersection where a certain dashboard button was supposed to allow me to cross legally, but it didn't work, and I tell the cop so through my window. I'm having trouble stopping the car parallel to his. He gets out and I hear what I assume to be him loudly expressing amazement that the Jeep has over 200,000 miles on it. I tap the door and say "I take good care of it", but then I realize the cop hadn't said it, must have been someone somewhere else in the scene.

Paul McCartney Comic Book

I'm reading someone's complaints on an internet forum. Apparently, each Beatle has his own long-running comic book, and this person is complaining that the Paul McCartney comic hasn't been very interesting in a long time. Specifically, this reader notes that the comic hasn't used the antagonist/foil character "Nordanius Canus" in some time, with boring results (the Lennon comic and Harrison comic are better regarded by this person.) This Nordanus/Nordanius Canus is sort of like a Lex Luthor villain to McCartney's Superman in the comic. Brief glimpse of the comic, Paul looks somewhat similar to his Yellow Submarine cartoon incarnation, and the comic and main character in general have a pseudo-Victorian feel; Paul's home base is a dark, medieval castle. It's apparent that each Beatle's comic book has an entirely different storyline and approach.

The Dreamed Artwork

Fragments; SK appears to be preparing some of his art to be displayed. I glanced through it, all on roughly 8" x 11" paper. Slightly adolescent but interesting. The word "1984" is written on one. Another depicts single-propeller planes flying towards the viewer. Another sequence, I'm standing at a desk saying goodbye to someone, trying to infer that this is the last time ever - no real response. I turn to walk away, hiding emotion. Playing the guitar extensively, in another fragment.

The Tunnel

In some kind of a subterranean cave tunnel, trying to get through to a certain exit. I'm with this other man in a small open area, when the dim electric lights that go line the tunnel start to flicker. I panic a little about this unforeseen possibility, knowing that if those lights go out, we'll be in total darkness, and may have to feel our way down the passage for who knows how many miles. For a few seconds, I'm frantically looking for a lamp or lighter or anything so we don't get caught in the blackout. But when the lights go out, it's revealed that further down the passage are some concrete stairs leading up, lit by streetlamps from above. I go halfway up the stairs to find a nighttime scene in a deserted parkground area in the suburbs. I'm not as excited to have found an exit as I should be; this doesn't feel like the right one. Nevertheless, I leave the tunnel.

Shortly after, the tunnel exit has become two exits and they resemble the front doors of adjacent NYC borough houses. However, despite that familiar and civilized appearance and feel, these are still the entrances to some unknown underground caverns. I see a teenage boy appear from inside one of the houses, and he's carrying MP. At first there is a general feeling of relief amongst the gathered crowd and myself, as if this indicates some successful rescue, but then the teenager begins to retreat back down the hallway with the cat. I break out of observing role to consciously stop him, opening the screen door and grabbing his arm. I'm successful at rescuing the cat from him, but not before noticing that the boy's arm is in some state of decay, i.e. green and showing bone. Then I notice MI walking away down the hall of the other entrance. She is walking and talking with her dad and too far away to reach.

There was another sequence that involved an appearance by the Incredible Hulk as he appeared on the 1979 TV series. This may be the filming of an episode, but there is a feeling of some actual danger, and in person the makeup on actor Lou Ferrigno looks stranger than it should.

Hendrix in the Classroom

I'm in some type of school. I'm waiting in a second room instead of going into my class. Apparently I'm very late; it's about noon. I might have passed the time reading, or just arrived/woke up late. I finally enter my classroom. There is one teacher, tall African-American, walking around the class, instructing. He may be the aide because there is another older teacher up at the desk in front of the class. I go over to this older teacher and make excuses...the aide told me to wait before entering, etc. This teacher just looks at me (while class continues) and says "You just have to be here..." making my reasons look foolish and irrelevant; I simply was not there.

I see the book being studied and get a peek at some of its complex math equations. I feel confident I can catch up, just need to do the work and study. But then the teacher aide starts walking around the room with a guitar performing "All Along the Watchtower." It's not a great version, similar to Hendrix but not quite. His guitar playing is ok but a bit sloppy. Somehow, this is part of the curriculum.

As the song continues, some students (Pete H. included) sit down at the three upright pianos on one side of the room, and they attempt to play along, miserably. Teacher/Hendrix doesn't seem disturbed (to my surprise); instead, he encourages their atonal, accidental explorations and the song falls apart into cacophony. Finally, though I no longer recognize the tune, everyone settles in on a plodding, looping, C# - B - A - B chord progression to end the piece.

At some other point in another location, I get a phone call from Karl, who wants to rap about a movie he just saw (ROTK.) I'm listening to his voicemail message, but then am able to break in and talk to him directly.

P.S. New Year's Resolution: more dream blogging. I've been terribly negligent and have subsequently forgotten many recent dreams that I meant to write down.

Esoteric Alternatives

I'm in a large library (unlike the one I frequent in waking hours.) High school (and earlier) people figure. I see them as I'm checking out a card catalog; they are seated in a certain area taking some type of advanced test. I wonder why was not invited to take the test; feel left out, underachieving, and that maybe I should be more pro-active and find out how to take the test even though I was not invited. Unsure what test leads to. I'm suddenly distracted by a different area of the library I had not noticed before. The areas have subject signs over them like in a book store. This one area says "Gurdjieff & Mystic Arts" so I go over to it. There is a small case that stands by itself away from the wall, about 4 feet high with Fourth Way books in it. Many volumes of some previously unknown series. Also, a chess set is in the case with the books, for library use I assume. I fancy playing with it, and imagine some people using those pieces, unaware that the game is part of this esoteric school of thought.

Dream Debris

These are some fragments from various remembered dreams of the past few weeks...

In a meeting with GWB, arguing with him and his staff, angrily.

Outside a cafe gig during a break, reunite SC and AS. AS asks if it's cool she's there. Sure. I pretend to introduce the two to each other, jokingly and ironically.

At my parents' house, they are out, but there is a dead body of a young woman left by the door. Almost like left for the trash pickup, but this is inside the front door. She is on her knees, slightly slumped/propped against door.

Sequence where I'm watching (possibly a video of) KM play the bass. He's playing a 5 string fretless. Sounds really good.

Sequence with MI, leaving her family's house late at night. We must exit through a window that resembles Manitou Cliff Dwelling doors (narrow, mid-height, tunnel-like.)

Dylan's Petty Impression / The Superdome

I'm coming in on the second half of a small intimate performance by Bob Dylan. This part is apparently storyteller/Q&A time. Dylan tells the audience a story about Tom Petty, who he worked with in the Traveling Wilburys. It seems one time Dylan and the rest were having some heavy discussion and Petty's tired comment was just (and here Bob did a flawless impression of Petty's voice) "all right all right all right all right all right all right..."

Later, Bob is saying his goodbyes and signing the side of a mattress for his hosts. On one side he's already written "SOLO", the other side I can't see but I assume he writes "TOUR." I start wondering what CDs of his I have around that I can get signed and wouldn't that be cool etc.

Next part of the dream takes place in Boston, with my family. It's very cold; we question why we came. My sister is unhappy. Accommodations are limited so I lie down directly between my parents; as not to favor either.

This leads to a late arrival at an airport and I'm running behind everyone else and can't find them. I ask some clerks where my flight (train) is but am told the doors are closing. I find my way to a waiting area that resembles the Superdome, but while it is packed, it is not unclean and chaotic. My friends in the band FC area seated in a front row, waiting. They don't see me at first so I decide to fake a magical, sudden appearance by jumping from above them right in front, like I fell out of the sky. I continue my antics then by pretending that I'm the first humanoid ever, crawling out of the primordial muck, and I add to the dramatization of this imaginary historical event with guttural growls. By the end of this, I think only BA still remains seated watching. A security type is also watching, and he suggests I go straight to a hospital.

The train finally pulls in (plane is forgotten) and the strangely small awkward doors open for me. In case I'm uncertain if this is the right one, the engineer uses the PA to loudly announce, "Stupid, this is it," as if the entire travel center knows I'm late and lost. I board the train/subway car to watch the driver suck tobacco through some type of device that is partly his mouth and partly a dentist's drain. I try to mimic the action as a goof.

Later in the dream, I recount the humorous Dylan anecdote to MI. I also open MV's bass case to find that he has swapped out with a similarly unique 6 string electric guitar.

The Best of Kermit / Jeff Lynne & David Byrne / Death

At my parents' house, some gathering, my father is playing records and/or trying to fix something. I go to my old room, which is oddly similar to how it used to look. I find this audio cassette set I'd gotten for free somewhere, a 3 tape set of records by Kermit the Frog. I go into the den to show my sister, as I'm excited and am also thinking I can make a copy for my nephew, but she is not that interested. My interest also decreases when I remove the tapes from the set case to find the individual records are not of Kermit, but rather, of some other mysterious muppet called "Tessie," who is apparently trendier in hipster circles since he wears a toupee. Unfortunately his voice, I seem to remember, is annoying, so I can't imagine a 3 tape set of him holding much promise.

Outside in a crowded area at night, near some building, lots of high school characters figure. I see someone slightly resembling G, who then suddenly not only greatly resembles but definitely IS G. Do not get to say hi, talking to DJ. Sit up on steps next to PB. I know he's retired but figure he's still active so I ask him what music stuff he's involved in. He nods to acknowledge my deduction and also mentions he's 55 years old, which is younger than he is.

George Harrison and Jeff Lynne appear to be making records in a closet similar to my own, and I make some flattering comments and am eager to be there and learn. GH leaves and I sit in a main room with JL. I tell him that when I was younger, the ELO song "It's a Livin' Thing" scared me because I didn't know what he was referring to in the chorus. He tells me now that he was referring to "love." I feel foolish for not knowing. At one point I badly mimic the opening violin line on a nearby piano.

Next it's time for David Byrne and me to chat. We're talking about songwriting, he asks me if I've written any, I say yes and he hands me an acoustic and tells me to play it. "2 measures," he says but that seems awfully short so I decided on the last "8 bars" of Our Day Will Come, and actually play and sing the last verse and outro. DB grabs another guitar and tries to follow a little. I'm worried that I'll be drowned out by a record JL is putting on nearby, but it turns out to be a quiet, unintrusive instrumental piece. I sound ok and DB seems to appreciate it. Instead of starting another song, I tell him I saw him hanging out at CB's Gallery (in reality it was Seventeen.) He looks different now, younger, dark hair again. He says he had a bicycle injury and pulls up a pants leg to show me a grotesquely swollen, watermelon-size upper thigh. There are some hippie pharmacists behind a counter near him when he backs up and shows me. DB talks about how he has to get it drained now and then, and that he sends the medical results out as gifts as a joke sometimes.

There's a short final sequence where I'm walking down 92nd in Queens Village in daytime near my grandparents' old house, which has now become a recording studio in the dream. A lot of techie types are running about out front, self-importantly making sure they control everything that comes near, and this bothers me. Something about their cleaning and throwing antics reminds me of New Orleans.

Another night recently I had a small fragment in which I'm hearing someone playing Pee Wee Ellis' tune "The Chicken" so I follow the sound, pick up a nearby upright bass and start playing the Jaco bassline along with this piano player. I'm listening to him to hear if he is indeed playing the tune I thought it was, and when he goes to D7, I'm certain. At some point in this dream, I look up from the street and there, about 6 stories up, peering down from the roof, a stylized sort of Grim Reaper/Angel of Death type appears to be looking down at me, just letting me know he's there. The way I'm situated, he's upside-down, since my back is to the building he's peering down from.

The Heavy Metal Parade

I'm sitting in a sort of large auditorium/gymnasium seeing a large scale, multi-tiered performance with family. It is a show with heavy Christian overtones and message, and it's sort of a mixture of a passion play and a high school cheerleading/pep rally. A teenage boy is sliding around dancing and seeing, stopping to cough sometimes due to physical strain. CD is there, seems to him I go to these fascinating shows all the time. JSW is also present.


Show turns into a solo Jack Bruce concert, much to my joy. I go upstairs and around to find a closer seat nearer to the stage, and end up in a small balcony briefly. There are some other JB-related remarks heard as I try to find seating; someone (MI?) likes the composition of the cover (and/or his sweater on it) on a certain JB record, possibly Harmony Row. As I come out, JB is playing a note-perfect version of "Jet Set Jewel." No seats; cushions. I'm down on the floor again off to stage right. My family is still in the back, dead center. JB is waiting to play the bagpipes at the end of the current song. Should be interesting.


At some point MI goes over close to JB where there is a merchandise table and buys a CD. I want to tell her I probably have all the records, but I'm too far away and too late. Later, at that table, I see a sheet that makes it appear she bought the new U2 record which appears to have the word "metal" in the title.


Next, somewhat faintly over the PA, come the strains of an apparent early demo version of Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again." Some of the crowd recognizes it giddily and sings along, but JB makes a gesture to suggest he's not actually going to play that song. And another song starts playing on top of it; the audience is shocked at such unprofessional sound mixing. But all is explained...


At some point JB is replaced by Adrian Vandenburg, and David Coverdale and the rest of Whitesnake enter the stage, clean-cut in tuxedos. The gist is that when they reformed they had to change their band name due to loss of trademark (now it's something like Masters of Reality), but oddly, to make sure everyone knows who they are, they play a tape of "Here I Go Again" before coming on stage. Even worse, the first song they play live that overlapped the tape, is a shallow rocker with the repeated shouted chorus proudly insisting: "We're Whitesnake! We're Whitesnake!"


Somehow the song ends quickly because an entire parade of 80's metal stars are about to traverse the stage, just a walk-across presumably to show they are here to support their idol Jack Bruce. I see Ronnie James Dio close by and flash him the devil hand-sign. He does it back, and I consider reminding him of the real life time I met him and took his picture doing that, but there's no time - the parade cross-stage has begun. Ozzy is there with his current guitarist, a Twiggy type who gives him a lascivious kiss on the cheek mid-stroll. Marilyn Manson follows, solo, to much crowd adulation; he takes a bow in his fishnet stockings.


The last character is some "new" metal star that I've never heard of before. He is, or is dressed as, a satyr type i.e. legs of a fawn, bare chest, horns - he's basically a devil. Instead of traversing the stage he sits on a throne to watch the rest of the show. He points over to a monitor so I can see the name of his hip band: Healing With Lifeguards. He also makes some joke to the crowd about being late because he had to empty out his leg of something, implying heroin.

Thanksgiving Tragedy

Thanksgiving at my parents' house; many many relatives milling about as I'm leaving, in driveway. I spot my father's mother looking around, and am happy to see her, and go over to say goodbye. The hug goodbye doesn't work right, she's as confused as I at first, but as we hold arms she seems to stumbling backwards; eventually we traverse the neighbor's lawn this way. She says something about a defect and might be implying the problem is her shoe heels. We unclasp and she lies down in the driveway. She is clearly not the same: smaller, thinner, balder, unwell. Someone goes for help. I feel like I should be doing something, but there's nothing I can do. Wondering where my father is.


My car is parked out across the street due to relatives. I go there to retrieve my Les Paul guitar and bring it into the house. All the relatives have cleared the lawn as I walk straight up it to the front door; they (mostly kids) are being corraled to the right of the front stoop so they don't see what's going on in the driveway. I look in that direction as I walk up, and see possibly my father waving me on, like "don't look." As I reach the door, I try to console one of the kids by talking of fun things we are going to do.


I go upstairs to see how my mother is faring. She's cooking at the stove with her back to me. I try to get a read but cannot see her face and she doesn't turn around.


A week ago: Hiding in Paul McCartney's basement, looking for something. His house is on a upper middle class suburban street - big basement, nighttime. He and entourage/family are arriving - I have to get out or hide.
Also: The worst gig ever: technical problems, noisy crowd. I leave the microphone for a second and someone else gets up with a guitar and starts singing. I patiently wait.

Stolen Song

I'm somewhere, indoors, with MI, and possibly on TV or radio, there's the end of a program (or an ad), and the music in it is a variation on an actual song of mine ("O.D.W.C.") I'm amazed as I hear it and start wondering how it could have been stolen like that and by whom. It's just the chorus but enough of it to be a clear infringement. Vocals are wordless but melody is distinct.

Sound Gun / Knife the Cat

Ok, it's a been while. Here's a couple of dreams remembered from over the last couple of months...



My parents' house is under some type of armed siege. I'm looking out the back door, regretting I didn't spend more of my recent free time in target practice. There are some guns downstairs I'm perusing; one of them more or less goes off in my face. But it's not a regular gun, it's some type of sound gun, and I'm momentarily dazed and discombobulated by this brassy deafening sound that hits my ears very closely.



Also, indoors, one cat is tormenting one or more other cats. The cat is very dangerous and evil... I need to stop it from hurting the defenseless, so I attack it with a knife successfully. I wake up with a very disturbed feeling for having done this.