***I am having this problem with dreams.I didn’t know it was a problem.Things I have accepted as my reality for decades…seem to have been dreams.Sometimes they came into reality with different players…sometimes the same ones.I can say quite emphatically that the memory where my motorcycle broke down and I climbed the rickety wooden steps to an apartment over a garage was NOT real.When I opened the door to the apartment I found Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward sitting at an old square table sipping coffee.It smelled delicious!Telling them my problem got the help I needed.Paul and Joanne very kindly fixed my bike for me and I went on my way.I know that one was a dream.Come on now….
***But the line between reality and fiction blurs a lot.For the last thirty years I have had this picture in my mind of a bald Rod Stewart at a piano fronting a band.I have always accepted this as his shaved head period.When I recently mentioned this to a friend I was informed with authority that Rod Stewart had NEVER shaved his head and appeared in public.OK, so maybe he did it behind closed doors for a while and really, sometimes his static hair does look like a wig.I am not ready to file this one away yet.
***OK…this one definitely was a dream.I was walking through the woods with a guy…following a distinct pathway to a clearing.In the middle of a good-sized area was a bed with sheets, pillows, and a comforter.OK…I definitely see sexual direction in this one.On the bed was a writhing pile of snakes in a moving tangle that could have struck fear in anyone watching an Indiana Jones movie.I turned to my paramour and said, “I suppose I have to clean this up?"Yes…that was definitely a dream.
***The scene is Los Angeles, the sixties.I had sex with the drummer from Wipeout in the bushes behind the Dean’s house at Occidental college.Now I am asking myself “Why in the bushes?”This was not a dream, but I really wish it was.What was I thinking?