and i am nothing of a builder
but here i dreamt i was an architect
and i built this balustrade
to keep you home, to keep you safe
from the outside world
...or so sing the Decemberists.
The dreams just keep getting weirder and weirder. I wasn’t planning on this being a ‘dream blog’ – so unless I have other really strange/interesting dreams, I will try to refrain from posting here.
I titled the post the only way I know how according to the dream. I looked for a common factor and this seemed to be the only one. Well, at least it made sense at five in the morning.
It started out with me and others at a golf course, setting out to play. The foursome ahead of us consisted of Dave Foley from Kids in the Hall and Phil Hartman. I wasn’t sure if David Spade was in my foursome or whether he was just the starter. Technically, with David Spade in this, it might qualify as a nightmare.
Never once in the dream did I hit a golf ball. Never once did I have an opportunity to. The ground was sopping. I couldn’t get a tee to even sit properly in the ground, or get a ball to sit on the tee. The tee and ball would bend and rotate never allowing me to even square up to attempt to hit.
Jump to a kitchen somewhere. The set-up was like my mother’s but it wasn’t hers. Only two people in the kitchen besides myself: Rebecca and Jeff Redmond. Jeff whom I used to date. Jeff who, when breaking up with me, told me it was because he never saw me doing anything with my life career-wise. The same Jeff, who (allegedly) was sent to prison from stealing from his place of employment. (Jeff – if you’re Goooooogling yourself and come across this entry: blow me!....and not in that good kind of way.)
Anyhoo – Jeff and Becky were discussing some computer program that could replicate 3-D maps of Ohio State’s campus. They were specifically talking about Park-Stradley Halls – which is where I lived (Park) my freshmen year. Oh, they were doing the dishes at the time of this conversation. At this point I carried in Sophie – to which they both oohed and ahhed over her (as they should!).
.The last part of the dream now had Becky, Jeff and a walk-on by David Spade. I was still attempting to golf down a residential street that was in my parent’s neighborhood. Still, I had no actual contact with a golf ball. At some point Becky calls over a neighborhood dog who just loves loves loves her. Kisses for Rebecca!!!!
Next, we’re all in the backseat of a car (well…not Mr. Spade) and Becky is talking to Jeff about her novel. I rub in the fact to Jeff that there is a character somewhat based on me. Then Becky and I start talking about her new novel – which actually had a title! (sorry Becca – for the life of me I don’t remember what it was.) That was the dream.
I should make clear that I have NO unfinished business with Mr. Redmond. None. Well, he never did return my copy of Love in the Time of Cholera – but it certainly isn’t worth reopening that relationship for something I can get at a bookstore for $11.95.
The book title – Becky might tell you, is unfinished business. Not necessarily the second novel title….but that’s her cross to bear. The golf – in dreamland, obviously is unfinished since I never got one hit. But as for golf overall, I’ve been done with that game for almost a decade. The game hates me and the feeling is mutual. I’ve played since I was 8 and oddly enough, I’m no better than the day I started.
Is it any wonder I haven’t had a restful night of sleep in years?