i am just a dreamer, and you are just a dream

While it is bedtime, the current plan is to get down to business, at least a little, on a mixtape for a long-distance pal. My main challenge right now is to resist the urge to weigh it down completely with cheesy '70s rock, the like of which I've been rocking almost exclusively lately (with the notable exception of the Old Time Relijun albums I got a month ago).

I'll give you a couple dreams I had this weekend, as relayed to a friend via email earlier. The preponderance of crash-and-burn dreams recently has been alarming but more exciting than anything; I'll take most any dream I can remember, and it sure beats the spider hallucination.

1. J* and I go to a roadside amusement type place where you ride a ride that's a cross between the Old Mill and the Log Jammer at Kennywood. Basically, you ride in a big canoe and it takes you up big hills then you go down the hills really fast into the water.

There's one part where it sends you catapulting across a break in the track and you JUMP THE SHARK (it was actually a killer whale) that's in a tank between the two parts of the track. Except our canoe missed and crashed right next to the tank, and crush Damon Che's drum kit, which was sitting there. No one got hurt, and I couldn't stop laughing about how we had just crashed into Damon Che's drum kit, then we sorta hung out and some dudes from bands that we have played with recently showed up and that was that.

2. I'm in Oakland on a Saturday, and these two news choppers fly overhead, then at some point become airplanes, and crash -- one into a field, one into the fourth floor of Hillman. I somehow know that no one is hurt, even though two airliners just crashed and people were actually jumping out of the second one. Everyone on the ground freaks and we're crouching on the ground and people are telling us what to do, and I start crying -- not because I'm worried about people being hurt or killed, but because I'm worried about the damage to our collection and the fact that I can't get the job I applied for if there's no fourth floor anymore.

I go to walk home and I think to call my mom and tell her I'm ok, and I have a bunch of messages from her on my Tracfone but it's freaking out and I can't get them all and I can't call her. G* and G* take me to go eat somewhere in Oakland.


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