Untitled Number Five

According to people who interpret dreams, if you dream of a th-6house, it represents your self or soul.   Following this logic, if you dream of a dirty house, then you’ve got some soul searching to do. If you dream of a house without doors, you’re paranoid about something.  And, if you dream of a house that’s beautiful from the outside but a shambles inside then you’re vain and your soul is trying to clue you in.  As far as dreams go, I think of them as a garbage dump of my day and don’t put too much store in them.   

However I do dream of houses often, two in particular.  One is a magnificent white manse, either ultra modern or very old, which sits atop a grassy hill. I slip through a keyhole like vapor and then fly down the endless hall, gliding in and out of pulsating rooms always stopping to gaze at the tranquil fishing village below. I’m looking for something, the pianist I hear in the distance. A soft mist starts to fill the house as finally I approach the pianist.  He plays in a beam of sunshine beneath an enormous bay window.  Outside billowing clouds roll across a Grecian sky.

Then, at this exact moment (in every single dream!) I decide I really have to pee.  A toilet appears in the middle of the room which I can’t use because suddenly people have materialized from the mist. After a few moments of anxiety my bladder gives the urgent symbol and I wake up.  If it’s early in the morning I try to get back into the dream but I can’t. 

th-5The other house is a claptrap assortment of rooms and ill-advised add-ons, decorated in hideous wallpaper with roughed up wood flooring and windows that refuse to open. This house excites me as I ponder an endless series of renovations. Some day, this will be my dream house, I think, as I discover secret rooms and staircases.  Generally I’ll run into a celebrity in one of the rooms, like Brad Pitt or Oprah. It’s not by accident, mind you. Cleverly I’ve pulled them into my dream because, to do all those renovations, I will need money!  Lots of money! 

Oprah’s always on the verge of giving me a million bucks when that old toilet appears in the middle of the room.   

What are reoccurring dreams trying to tell you?  I think mine are saying that I watch far too many home improvement shows.  Also, that I probably shouldn’t drink so much tea before heading to bed (okay – it’s wine).

Imagine

IMG_0856We found ourselves in New York City on a beautiful day without any real plans when over beer I got the urge to see Strawberry Fields.  Luckily the pretty blond waitress knew just how to get there:  take the subway toward the Bronx, get off at 72th street and walk a few blocks east to the park.  Once at the park it would be easy to find, she explained, as there were always people playing guitars, singing and passing out flowers.  She didn’t mention that this route would take us past the Dakota.

th-1When I realized I was passing the vestibule where Lennon was shot, my heart stopped as it had on that Monday evening a lifetime ago. I knew then it would never regain the rhythm it once had. The carefreeness of hope was gone forever.

But I mustn’t be grim.  That we had him for the time we did, we should be grateful. And I am – yeah, yeah, yeah – YEAH!

BeatlesMahJan

Me and the lads hanging with the Maharishi!