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Dream of Robin's Black Leather Jacket
Oct. 26th, 2017 12:06 pmDreamed I was living in some sort of planned community. Not planned community in the sense of GeezerWorld Acres, but planned community more like Disneyland or Westworld, a terraformed place where people lived.
This space had been divided up to accommodate adventuresome people whom they called "explorers" and ordinary people whom they called “expanders.” In fact, that was its marketing motto: “Explore and expand.”
I was living in the “explore” sector, which was this eerily lovely rainforest. And I was living with Mattu who was his usual, depressive self, Eeyore-like one might say if Eeyore read 10 books a week.
Except that Mattu was about to get bumped back to the “expander” section with the ordinary Joes because he wasn’t doing enough exploring.
Then I was walking with Petrona of all odd people and Petrona was telling me snippets from her life, and for whatever reason, I thought it might be useful to suck up to Petrona, so I suggested we duck into a café for some wine. We were walking through what in my dream was Berkeley except it didn’t look like Berkeley; it was this rather long utilitarian High Street.
I had Robin with me, too. Robin when he was a very young kid, maybe four or five. Robin at the age he was when I bought him this adorable miniature black leather jacket because he was such an adorable kid and looked so great in black leather.
Out of nowhere, this bird plummeted from the sky and sunk its talons into the back of Robin’s black leather jacket.
The bird was stuck.
I wanted to get the bird off the jacket before it ruined the jacket, and at the same time, I didn’t want to hurt the bird. And I didn’t want the bird to hurt me.
It took quite a while to disentangle the creature, During that time, Petrona disappeared.
Then I was walking down that same High Street with Huey Newton – whom, yes, I dated a few times in Real Life during the frenzied 80s. Four-year-old Robin was still with us. “Tell Uncle Huey about the bird that landed on your jacket,” I encouraged Robin. Bonding with Uncle Huey!
So, Robin began telling the story except that I realized he had a speech impediment or something because Huey was just staring at him with his scrambled egg eyes. Or maybe Robin didn’t have a speech impediment? Maybe this was just the way four-year-olds talked?
And I woke up.
###
The Meezer is doing a lot better today.
And it’s been a very orange autumn:
This space had been divided up to accommodate adventuresome people whom they called "explorers" and ordinary people whom they called “expanders.” In fact, that was its marketing motto: “Explore and expand.”
I was living in the “explore” sector, which was this eerily lovely rainforest. And I was living with Mattu who was his usual, depressive self, Eeyore-like one might say if Eeyore read 10 books a week.
Except that Mattu was about to get bumped back to the “expander” section with the ordinary Joes because he wasn’t doing enough exploring.
Then I was walking with Petrona of all odd people and Petrona was telling me snippets from her life, and for whatever reason, I thought it might be useful to suck up to Petrona, so I suggested we duck into a café for some wine. We were walking through what in my dream was Berkeley except it didn’t look like Berkeley; it was this rather long utilitarian High Street.
I had Robin with me, too. Robin when he was a very young kid, maybe four or five. Robin at the age he was when I bought him this adorable miniature black leather jacket because he was such an adorable kid and looked so great in black leather.
Out of nowhere, this bird plummeted from the sky and sunk its talons into the back of Robin’s black leather jacket.
The bird was stuck.
I wanted to get the bird off the jacket before it ruined the jacket, and at the same time, I didn’t want to hurt the bird. And I didn’t want the bird to hurt me.
It took quite a while to disentangle the creature, During that time, Petrona disappeared.
Then I was walking down that same High Street with Huey Newton – whom, yes, I dated a few times in Real Life during the frenzied 80s. Four-year-old Robin was still with us. “Tell Uncle Huey about the bird that landed on your jacket,” I encouraged Robin. Bonding with Uncle Huey!
So, Robin began telling the story except that I realized he had a speech impediment or something because Huey was just staring at him with his scrambled egg eyes. Or maybe Robin didn’t have a speech impediment? Maybe this was just the way four-year-olds talked?
And I woke up.
###
The Meezer is doing a lot better today.
And it’s been a very orange autumn:
