Rowdy’s Dream Blog #295: Mermaids.
I swim in deep marble tanks with dreadlocked mermaids.

I swim in deep marble tanks with dreadlocked mermaids.
I sit in a plush chair. I am wearing a black neoprene glove. I retract the blade from a pistol-shaped utility knife. I hear the boss' son approaching me from behind. I hear the boss' order and wait for a bullet in the back of my head. I slump down in the chair and scream, twice, still waiting.
R and I stop our car in a snowy ravine. I get out and skate around on the ice. We drive around a large frozen lake. It gets dark. We pass some horse-dragons with long, stiff, black spike-tendrils poking out of the backs of their long necks. Later, we drop F off at his tiny house. It has central heating that is performed by a dog statue.
I am on a guided nature hike with a small group. Nature has been enhanced with some colored lights under the stream. In flying mode, I hover above the stream and spiral up and down the banks, all the while watching as the lights swirl. Finally, tiny lights like fireflies flutter down creating a fake gentle rain.
I live in a haunted apartment: furniture and propane tanks move toward me, menacingly. I pray fervently. I know am protected now and my fear is stilled. Later, I tell a black kid about the incident.
I'm in a band, playing on stage with B, an Elvis impersonator. My guitar strap is loose. I take off my white Strat and put it on B as I continue to play the song, a rocker, while he stands there wearing it. As the audience cheers and applauds, I grab B's hair and make him take some bows.
The space heater on my desk has caused a power cord to become brittle and crumbly. IS arrives to install new cables. My desk must be pushed out into the middle of a large warehouse room. I get a woman to help me wrap it up in electrical tape. My "Hold my calls" joke falls flat. The tape is old and comes off immediately in small sticky strips. I seem to be holding a pistol while we work. I tell her I think it's unloaded, but we both can see it has at least four bullets.
G and I are in Taos at dusk. We watch a jeep Wagoneer perform a jump from a dirt road off a hill and over some water. We then go to a fancy Mexican buffet. There are circular bas-relief carvings in the patio floor and walls. I get a plate of tacos. G gets green chili enchiladas that I had not noticed. Our waitress, a gray-haired woman, takes my full plate from me, ostensibly to bring me some enchiladas instead. She does not return. I try to hunt her down. I find some of the other wait staff and describe her to them. They point and I find her hiding behind a door. She gives an unintelligible excuse. I go up to the pretty cashier, who informs me that they are now closed. I go upstairs onto the roof. The food is now gone - only empty tables and steam trays remain.
I am riding in the back of a pickup. I slide around with every turn. We arrive at the downs. My dad reads the racing-form rock. He is certain that our four horses will win. I sit in the bleachers with a tall, young couple wearing red Vicars shirts. They project symbols on the scoreboard. The girl playfully draws stitches on my neck with a sharpie. I feel it squeaking on my skin.
I explain to my pal how easy it was for me to land a jumbo jet in his back yard. I made several passes until I was going slow enough, and then just set it down, with the rear wheels only slightly off-center in the rebar cradles.