Tuesday December 28 2010

DREAM: In the process of a long trip—travelling home—sitting in the backseat of the tour van. Dave Elkins is in the driver’s seat. Mark Padgett is in the passenger seat. We’ve stopped at some venue to pick up music gear we left behind. Dave is reading out loud papers and documents I put on the dashboard—some of them are journal entries. One in particular was written on notebook paper and blue ink. He points out a mistake in it where I use a word twice in one sentence: “…only it has come to come this way only…” I realized that before he did. After he’s done, I explain to him and Mark that the entry is a dream Felix had predicting a really bad concert Mae was going to do a week later—a premonition. All of us regretting that show in a humorous way. They prepare to head into the venue. I ask, “Should I just wait here or come inside?” Dave gives a smart remark, “Of course, Robert. Of course.” ☼☼☼ Lying on a bed in a small but spacious room—queen size with lots of sheets—very comfy. The wall in front of me is missing and looks out into the public courtyard of a city in Honduras or Mexico. There’s a narrow manmade lake in the center of it that flows for miles east and west—Spanish-speaking citizens are walking around everywhere like it’s a marketplace. I watch a man carrying a huge bundle of bananas like a clown selling balloons. I call him over to me in Spanish. Buying four bananas. After some confusion he explains it only costs 1 dollar. Fumbling through my wad of cash containing a 100-dollar bill, a few 50-dollar bills, and single bills. There’s a little bit of shock on his face when the 100-dollar bill is in sight—afraid he might spread the word that I have money and then I could get robbed. I hand him two dollar bills (one for a tip). “Here you go. Gracias!” Just then, across the water, I see Tyler Strickland step outside of the venue where Mae had stopped to retrieve music gear left behind from the previous dream. I thought maybe he was calling for me to come inside now and help set up. Instead, he pulls out a thin obtuse-looking gun with a silencer attached to it and points it at me. He says something that I can’t understand in a loud manner that causes everybody in the courtyard to stop what they’re doing and watch what’s happening. He swings his arm down and, with his gun, creates a giant detailed image of what seems to be a newsfeed with a picture of me—it’s almost holographic. It’s a bounty out for my arrest, and whoever brings me in receives a cash reward. Oh no. Thanks Tyler. I look over and all the locals begin lining up by my bed. I have no choice but to be turned in now. My purple book bag was sitting on the ground half open. I zip it back up and yell out, “Nobody touches this! Understand?” Three somewhat attractive girls are at the front of the line. I guess they’re the ones taking me in. I walk with them across the water and into what I assume is the police station. The crowds of people continue to stay in line and follow closely behind. I whisper to one of the girls, “Help me get out…I’ll pay you in return.” Surprised I even mentioned this, she replies, “Somehow I don’t believe you.” Her face is very alluring. “Look, I don’t have a lot of money but I will pay you somehow. Trust me.”

Around 3 p.m. I wake up.

Breakfast: Ezekiel 4:9 Cinnamon Raisin Toast with Peanut Butter. Orange Mangosteen Juice. Zinc.


Lunch: Tuna Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Watching Disgrace [2008].


Eating an Orange and Banana.

Show at The Pinball House on Roselynn. Musicplayer was supposed to play but I can’t get in touch with my bass player. Providing the PA system. One guy gets up and plays the acoustic guitar—belching out all his choruses at the top of his lungs with such intense youthful angst. This is what I like to call Folk n Roll. “You’re a vigorous dude!”

The icy cold air outside keeps everyone inside the house—tight and cozy—not much room to breath. You Blew It, a band from Orlando, goes on—a good kind of emo pop rock. Ken Diamonds is wearing a handkerchief over his mouth like a Crips gang member and tossing and throwing himself around causing a mild mosh pit.

Eating a few slices of Pizza from Chanello’s.

Poker with the boys—a few new players: Roma, Art, Jon Reynolds, Wesley, James G., Doug, and myself.

Drinking a Hard Cider.

Wesley keeps repeating something about being misconstrued. “Maybe if you keep repeating it he’ll put it in his blog.” You’re right. I did.

I ask Emily to take over the baking of Chocolate Chip Cookies.

Art wins the game with Roma as runner-up.

Doug and Emily are asleep on the couches with Christmas Vacation on the tube. A classic scene.

Playing drums at the storage unit.

Eating Scrambled Eggs and Garlic Naan Bread with Chocolate Milk.

Watching Cold Souls [2009].

Sleep 7 a.m.

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