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dreams

Rowdy’s Dream Blog #314: The Kid Behind the Counter Blew Snot at Me

G and I embark on a freeway trip in separate vehicles. I lead the way in my gratified coupe. I stop at a roadside diner and go inside. The surly teen behind the counter blows snot at me through a straw, smirks and asks how he can help me. I jump over the counter and pick him up by his shirt, which is full of corn flakes. They crumble and crumbs rain out on the floor. I hock up a big loogie, but decide instead to just set him back down. As I do, he jumps up about four feet in the air. I turn to leave and start out toward my car. Outside, I see the old restaurant inspector leaning against the wall around back, so I head toward him. Just then ex-girlfriend, R, and her family arrive. We all say hello to each other, coolly, and they head inside. The inspector is younger now. He wears a sharkskin, velvet-lapeled suit jacket and he's smoking. I start to tell him about the incident inside. He interrupts me and asks if it was the girl who did it. I tell him yes, having now forgotten the facts.

dreams

Rowdy’s Dream Blog #313: A Chinese Restaurant Opened in My House

I fly our single engine plane, low, into town, causing an ex-girlfriend to swerve on her bike. Our home now hosts a new, bad, Chinese restaurant. There is a neon sign out front. Our special is seaweed served in little packets. I note that "a neon sign does not a Chinese restaurant make."

dreams

Rowdy’s Dream Blog #312: A Businessman is Up to No Good

The wizened VP of our company joins our table at the bar. He claims to be up to no good. I offer that he must have some legitimate pursuits. He shakes his head no and asks me if I want to pursue this line of questioning.

dreams

Rowdy’s Dream Blog #311: How I Save Time When I am Late.

I am late for a gig. I eat two slices of pizza at once to save time.

dreams

Rowdy’s Dream Blog #310: Towers and Birds.

Two dreams in one! Brutus woke up in between dreams and took a sip of brown carbonated dream juice.

I see the Lumpur Towers, painted like Pepsi cans.

My pal has long strands of straw sticking out of the front of his blue sweater. He explains they're for the birds to pick at.

dreams

Rowdy’s Dream Blog #308: I get to drink a dream martini, then I have to deal with bugs.

I am at Realtor MiMi's party. She is famous for her martinis. I talk with an old guy about his new place on Gold Dust Avenue, downtown. Some women approach and ask me to go out into the back yard and kill a black widow. Outside, in bare feet, I am swarmed by centipedes.

dreams

Rowdy’s Dream Blog #307: I am having a boxing match.

I box with gloves in our basement with a small Black girl. Every right I land sends her rolling, but she bounces back, swinging. Finally, we stop the fight. I try to explain to her the importance of fighting in one's own weight class. She has me feel her rock-hard abs.

dreams

Rowdy’s Dream Blog #306: A dream about large rocks in wheelbarrows.

G and I are car camping on a mesa. It is dusk. I watch a large, protractor-shaped spaceship descend and land behind some trees. Soon, a swarm of geology students dressed in white jumpsuits mill around our campsite, gathering large rocks into wheelbarrows. Some of them spill their loads, comically. I pull our canvas curtains closed and hope for some peace and quiet so we can sleep.

dreams

Rowdy’s Dream Blog #305: I can walk on water!

I am standing on the bank of a reservoir. I step out and discover I am able to walk on the water. I can feel the ripples under my feet. I walk farther out and peer down into one of several deep, spinning whirlpools.

dreams

Rowdy’s Dream Blog #304. Spoiler Alert! I’m not wearing pants!

G and I arrive at our new home. The dirt at the front door is muddy, so I move a flat rock into place for a step. As I open the door some loose stucco around the doorjamb falls off. "I knew you would do something like this," she says. Inside, the house is actually much larger that it looked from the outside. There are several more floors below ground level. I look behind me and notice that the doorway is now tall and wide, big enough for a horse and rider. I lead G back outside and down some stairs to show her the lower floors. Instead of the house, however, we enter a large underground shopping mall. The way back into our house, it seems, passes through a narrow, airport-style bar. A small Asian woman sits on a stool by the entrance with a white towel spread on the floor in front of her. "You want beers? Two beers!" she hollers. We protest. We only want to get through. The owner steps up, looks at our bare feet and whispers to her: "Let them go. They're from Afghanistan." We leave the bar and walk up a carpeted ramp. We find a small table next to the wall and sit down next to each other. There are some shopping bags and boxes full of plastic trinkets under the table. Former girlfriend, P, appears and sits down across from us. She explains that her plan is to sell the stuff, somehow. Getting up, I tell her we have to go look for our front door because we left it wide open. Now she is following us. I wish that I hadn't said anything about where we were going because I really didn't want her to know where we live. Finally, we find the entrance to our lower level, which now, it seems, is guarded by stucco walls that form a kind of moat filled with wild animals. From above, I can see a mountain lion pacing and a wild boar, who chases down a deer and eats it. "Great. They're pooping in our house." G says. Apparently, I no longer need to worry about someone getting into the place. We move on and sit down at a high bar table out in the main mall. A friendly young black waiter arrives and attempts to guess what each of us will order. I order a martini, gin, straight up, with an olive. G and I now share a single bar stool and are facing each other. We are not wearing pants.

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