Category: Dreams

Buzz is in da house (well, actually Paul’s ’cause that’s where the amp is).

With singing heart, I tell you that after a year long search, I have acquired an electric 12 string. He’s a solid body, glossy black, strung Rickenbacker style, and the action is so light I can play for an hour – bar chords even! – and his name is Buzz.  (The six string is Kehaar (cause it’s a Seagull, bonus points if you get the reference) and the mandolin is Edith).  Buzz sounds AWESOME and I’m very lucky that Craigslist Dude was downsizing his immense guitar collection.  Everything on board is super clean and all the bells and whistles work.

There are enough effects on board that I shouldn’t have to buy any additional gadgets for quite a while.  I followed Jim E’s advice about buying, and played for a while with the practice amp on, and once I had some volume, I got ze shivers.  I didn’t completely get into tune until I got it back to Paul’s so we could practice, and once it was completely tuned up, that was it, it’s love love love all the way down.

I left it at Paul’s ’cause he’s off today so he can mess around with it and I didn’t even let him touch it last night.  Mother’s Day SOUNDS VERY VERY DIFFERENT on an electric 12 string.  OMG.  I suspect I will be writing more tunes.

My transition to folk rocker is occurring!

Last night I dreamed I was at outdoor SF convention and the organizers had strung EVERY KNOWN SPACESHIP MODEL, some two meters long, above the audience at the bandshell.  I woke myself up going, Holy Ship!  where’s my cell phone camera!  and of course I was dreaming.

The TV show House came roaring back from it’s script battiness last night, and I’m very glad to see that.

Anyway, time for a shower and I’m off to work.  Oh, and I got a raise.  Yeah, this week’s turning out okay.

so grateful…. and a bit sad

Spent the evening of Peggy’s most recent b-day hanging around the Puddle (I swam eight lengths but boy is my back stiff this morning) and consuming mint tea and biscotti.  Highly recommended.  Paul and Tom were there too.

Last night I dreamed that Justin Bieber was dead and I was hired to squeal like a teenaged girl at one of his retrospectives, there being no actual teenaged girls to do the job.  I was giggling and squealing like a trooper when an unidentified woman about my age came up to me and shot me in the head with a Nerf gun.  And, such are the manifold blessings of my life, I woke the hell up.  No disrespect, but I think The Bieb has peaked.

My coffee is ready.  Jeff has consumed half a honeydew melon for breakfast, but I cannot bring myself to follow his example.

I get to see the Bean soon! My time off at the end of the month is rapidly filling up.

Kenneth Mars has passed away.

While I was in Pleasanton….

staying in John Madden’s boutique hotel, the Rose, which is GORGEOUS (and John M was actually there in the lobby bar the night we arrived, oddly enough but of course I had no reason to speak to him or harass him so I just smirked)… I had a dream.

About five in the morning the night before I came home, I dreamed that Katie K was taking me to meet a friend.  We climbed the stairs to say hi and the woman took one look at me and started screaming “What is she doing here?  I don’t want to meet her, get her out of here!”  I obligingly booked it down the stairs and out into the street and across the street to a little park, where I sat down on a bench.  I felt warmth next to me and turned my head.

John was sitting there, dressed in black, and hatless (which would not be normal at this time of year… felt like Vancouver on an overcast day).  His hair had grown out a little and he had a much better pair of glasses, but it was John all right – nobody looks, smells and sounds like him.  He commiserated with me briefly on my contretemps, and then, and a couple of times he laughed, that breathless chuckle, and then with that same brainwoosh that had accompanied the sensation of him joining me on the bench, I realized I was dreaming.  I don’t lucid dream, at all, and it’s actually been many months since I had a memorable dream.  As soon as I realized I was dreaming, I knew John was dead, and I was FINALLY getting my visitation dream, which I have longed for.

“What took you so long?” I asked.

He smiled.  And we all know that shit eating grin.  And just like the Cheshire Cat, he faded, and left the grin hanging in the air for a few seconds, and then I woke up.

I’ve been a little teary for the last few days, because honestly I had given up.  Somehow my brain gave me permission to let him visit, and I am so, so glad.  Cried my eyes out at the Remembrance Day service yesterday at church, because I’d been going to say his name and Tom did it for me.

Last thing I dreamed before I woke

I was having a dispute with a neighbour (I was living by myself again in a walkup apartment, like THAT would ever happen) and she chose to respond to it by drowning three kittens in my ornamental fountain, which was in the entranceway to the apartment.  They were still warm when I picked them up.  I guess bathing Margot so frequently (she had a poopy bum again so she got bathed this weekend) is making me used to the feel of wet cat fur, because I could feel their warm little bodies as I picked them up.  I thought, who could do such a thing? And then I remembered.  My subconscious could.  Thanks, subconscious, you suck.

We are now referring to them as the Olympox.

That’s a royal we, not a literal we.

I don’t share my opinions with others, in the sense that my opinions are commonly held.  In the other sense, why, look, I’m coming up on 6 years of blogging on a daily basis.  It’s been peace of mind inducing, because I can actually see progress, even at this late date.  Yes, it has quite a bit, now I think on it.  It’s been useful, with recipes and background deets for KittyKate’s ongoing relationship woes, and dammit, the source of MUCH amusement in retrospect and in PROSPECT, because so far I’ve lived to blog the tale, and yes, the worst of the bad bits aren’t here, but that’s cause my mother doesn’t want to read them.

You know, I don’t go back into the non wordpress archives unless I’m looking for a quote or a specific event.  I was looking for a dream description last week (took me a blazing age to find the damned thing, too, the archives are a bear to search) but I can’t remember the time I looked before last.  Might have been… oh yeah, I remember, I wanted to know the date we first watched Heroes of the East (Shaolin vs. Ninja).

I do look at the more recent archives more.  Easier to search.  It’s always about usability.

Still feeling fog-eyed

Last night I dreamed I was in a very weird, muddy, tunnelled location. While I was there somebody- I think Katie – brought me the news that Margot had been run over. I remember feeling – nothing.  Jeff and I tramped through some mud as we discussed how this would make Gizmo and Eddie very happy not to have to put up with her any more.

When I woke up I thought how glad I am that my nightmares are so low key, because in real life I’d be flinging myself around like a thwarted three year old.

Margot and Gizmo are not quite to the point where they are twining their tails together when they are campaigning for food, but it’s pretty close.  Gizmo puts up with all kinds of crap from Margot.  I’ll see if I can get video, because it’s really very charming.

Update

My meeting with Serge the composer went great but he wants me to refine what the hell it is I really want to accomplish while he’s teaching me music, so I am going to think about that and get back to him.  We both like Hans Zimmer and James Horner, no surprise.  He was amazingly generous and collaborative in the hour and a half I spent with him, and he taught me two important things about scoring for films which I had not really understood before.

Serge is on the 144 bus line, which also goes to SFU, and then I had lunch at the old office and said hi to folks.  Then I went to Surrey and got stood up by my date.  I didn’t mind, I had wireless and drank a latte.  And some guy chatted me up on the way out, can you believe it?  Anyway, I hope dude is okay, and that it was just a communication snag… there’s no sense complaining about somebody’s behaviour until you have an explanation, and for all I know his neighbour’s dogs savaged him.

Speaking of which, I was walking back to the house (my bike has two flat tires) with $50 of meat yesterday and I ran into a loose pitbull.  Man, for one brief second I was terrified, and then I realized from the animal’s body language that it had no intention of coming near me whether I had ten pounds of pork chops, stew beef and bratwurst on me, or not.

All of my bus connections today were zippity.  Very nice.

Jeff reminded me that I was supposed to get the cats dry food today, and I forgot.

Wonderful dream

I haven’t had a decent dream that I can remember in months, and I just had a splendid one.

I was living in a third storey walk up and got involved in a drug bust.  This is all because Jeff and I blasted through a couple of episodes of Homicide last night.  Man, that was a GREAT show.  The writing, the acting; and John Waters was the bartender in one episode, what more could you want?  Anyway, huge drug bust in one show, tiny drug bust in Allegra’s dream.

I swiped the evidence while my neighbour was being busted so of course they had to let him go (serves the cop right for busting the guy without backup) and then he came looking for me.  I just handed it back to him, so he was somewhat startled (it was only weed; I would hardly have helped the guy if it was something stronger).  My feelings of paranoia and discomfort while waiting for him to get back from the cop shop were NOT pleasant; nor was realizing he’d shaved off his dreads between the time he was busted in the time he got back so he got real close to me without me recognizing him.  Man, hair is a major disguise element.  Dreams are wild, hunh?  Anyway he was all happy and then I woke up.