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Dream

Well, this one was particularly bizarre and vivid.

It started with my old friend Roger and I showing up at a house apparently shared by greenplaid and a young Demi Moore. For whatever reason, we were there the night before a trip to Disneyland. Roger and I were supposed to sleep in the kitchen, which of course, being a dream, did not seem all that unusual.

When the Disney portion of the dream came around, Roger was replaced by jane_grey and an unidentified friend of greenplaid. But this was not really Disneyland, this was like, UrbanBlightLand — if Main Street USA was replaced by, say, Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard in downtown Long Beach (was it Chris Rock who pointed out that Martin Luther King Jr. street in any major city was guaranteed to be in the ghetto?)

We were quickly engaged in a staged but very convincing and realistic morality play involving a black man, a young, poor Korean man, and some upscale occupants of a limousine who seemed to be instruments of some dark force. The black guy and the Korean guy made all the right choices, with some help from us, and even avoided a conflict with each other.

Leaving this tableau, the four of us then encountered an all-girl street gang, but these ladies were done up a la the Pat Benatar “Love Is A Battlefield” video. They started shakin’ their stuff in that West Side Story, Flashdancey style of gang display… so I responded by shouting, “We are young…!” The funny thing was, by this time the four of us were just being goofy — we were a little shaken by the realism and potential danger of the last “show,” and we were determined not to be threatened by these painted hoodlums.

The four of us each sang a verse of the song, one after the other, tongues firmly in cheeks. The video vixens could not prevail.

For some reason, halfway through “Love Is A Battlefield,” it became the Styx song “Blue Collar Man.” I can only attribute this to having recently heard a sad, pitiful, revival house version of Styx performing live on the radio a few nights back. In any event, we found our way out of the park through some service exit, laughing, and that was the end of the dream.

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Comments

  • greenplaid

    It was just odd, I hadn’t expressed any interest in Pat Benatar at all and my birthday was spent at a festival where she was performing. Odd.

  • I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to see her — she’s classically trained, she has a 2.5 or 3 octave range, and she’s a stone fox at, what, fifty-odd years old?

    I have this memory of this one concert film she did. Through the whole thing she wore this super-tight cat-suit type-thing… and neglected to wear any underwear, top or bottom. After a very short time it wasn’t as titilating as it was vaguely embarrassing for her.

    Still… what a voice!

  • It was pretty cool. Thanks for guest-starring.

  • greenplaid

    My parents took me to see Pat Benatar on my fifteenth birthday, for reasons beyond my comprehension.

    “Do I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you’ve had?”

  • jane_grey

    heartache to heartache we stand! no promises, no demands…..

    haha matt. great dream.

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