someone drop a chalupa in here?

10-11-99

As a rule, I don't like to read lengthy accounts of people's dreams. Keep a separate dream journal if you have to; I know a lot of people get into that. I don't mind hearing about the really good ones, though, so I thought maybe y'all would like a taste of what I woke up to this morning. Hang in there, there are some really bizarre moments.

First I was in 8th grade again, hanging around with Amy Damon. (All the makings of a nightmare, here.) I had some kind of ability to see into the future. We had an assembly where we watched, on a huge screen, a speech by Boris Yeltsin. We had had the exact sae assembly in the past, but I hadn't understood what it was about. That time we'd heard Yeltsin's speech and it had been the speech that kicked off a war in Eastern Europe. That first time, all the kids in the school had run-run-run back to their classrooms, with glass shattering and mayhem. (I had this really vivd memories, within the dream.) That time, I'd laughed, because I didn't know what was going on; I hadn't understood the speech.

But this time I understood. I knew that Yetlsin was saying the exact same thing he had said the year before, and the same war would happen. It did, and that was the first time I realized I was seeing into the future. We all had to run back to our classrooms again, and we were laughing.

*****Let's take a moment and remember, real-life-like: I was in eighth grade in 1988-89. Gorbachev was in charge of the USSR, and the Berlin Wall still had a few months left. Just a nice little bit of time-distortion going on here.*****

Anyway. Amy and I ran and hid behind her mother's van, and some prissy little girl asked us if we were Muslims or Dulls. (Don't ask me.) I told her we were Christians, but that isn't the word I said. I said 'morons.' In the dream, the words were synonymous, and everybody knew what I meant. I can't for the life of me figure out what I was thinking. The closest explanation I could come up with was 'Mormons.' I'm not a Mormon, and I have nothing against Mormons. I am a Christian, and I didn't mean to say they are morons. I just don't know.

I somehow ended up at my high school, and, somehow, I was older, like 18 or 19, and rid of Amy. (Significant? Real-life Amy ditched me for her cool friends in 8th grade.) I was walking around in my high school, feeling old. One of my former teachers, ER's Kerry Weaver, asked me if I had the day off and I told her about the assembly and the riot.

When classes let out, I gave my ex-boyfriend, Mike, a big hug. I didn't date him until my sophomore year in college, didn't even meet him until then, but there I stood in my high school hugging the guy. I could feel his erection bulging aganst my leg.

After that the dream sort of fizzled. (Like Mike...HA Ha ha ha...just kidding.) Sometimes the plot line was interrupted and I'd be in a weird place, seeing the future. Like once, when I was out in a cornfield with a family and I just knew that the mother was going to get her leg caught in a piece of farm machinery, but I was powerless to stop it.

God. I'm so longwinded. See, that's why I don't want to read about others' dreams.

Today was good good good. Went up to interview for the music store job. Looks like I pretty much have it, and I'll pretty much take it. It's a significant pay increase, like 1.50 an hour, and the president of the small, family-owned business was pretty up front with me about their plans. It's a "combo store." They sell keyboards and guitars, and drums, and rent band instruments to kids.

Not exactly the areas I excel in, but I think I can deal with it. He wants me to learn all about guitars, since his guitar guy just left. Eventually, the band area guy is going to retire, and I could move into that position if I wanted it. Down the road.

I don't know. I really want to be teaching, not schlepping guitar cables. I'm looking for a job that will keep me going until I build up my studio, NOT a job that will keep me from building my studio. This company seems really laidback, very fair, and they would provide space for me to teach lessons on my days off. In Warner Robins, so I'd have studio space both near home and in Macon. I could get time off for performing gigs.

I'd have a connection with the music world, even if it's with that world of big black boxes and snaking cable lines that has never seemed as attractive to me as a single brass instrument shining beside a music stand. Keyboards just aren't pretty.

Ahh, well, in other news....John and I were goofing around, squirting whipped cream out of a can into our mouths while watching TV tonight. My 26 year-old idiot husband held the can wrong and inadvertently inhaled a lungful of nitrous. I haven't laughed so hard since the other night, when we decided that "Sir! Drop the Chalupa!" sounded like someone being ordered to void their bowels. "Man, I gotta go drop a chalupa...."