Text (c) Robert Barry Francos
Both of these dreams happened in the same night, between July 21 and 22. Also, both memories of them are fragments recalled 12 hours later...
In the first, I am the older brother of Jaqueline Blownaparte, the lead singer of the New York proto-horror-punk band Chesty Morgan and the Slice 'Em Ups. In real life, I've seen her perform thrice, the first two times in her previous band, Lady Unluck, and one in the SEUs, as reported on this blog in early November 2008 (look it up! It's about a Halloween show at Hank's.). The latter was the only time I actually spoke to her. In the dream, however, for whatever reason, we are siblings. It seems, unbeknown to me, she is angry with me, and I'm not sure why. Her partner in both real life and in the dream, Anthony Allen Van Hoek, pulls me aside to fill me in with what is happening: I had a couple of tickets to go see a show at a the convention center that is sort of like the car or boat show, but the subject of this one is wood, and she wanted to go as she likes wood for some reason. Yes, wood. And yes, I understand the inevitable connection it brings up, but she's my sister in the dream, remember?! Anyway, my conversation with him continues and I'm feeling contrite, when I awoke.
The second dream was much longer, but I remember less details. Essentially, I start traveling around with Paul Simon. For a large part of the '60s and '70s, I was a huge Simon & Garfunkel fan (even during my early punk years), including Simon's early solo efforts like Paul Simon and Still Crazy After All These Years. He started to peter out for me around "Late in the Evening," and even though I liked some material from Graceland; his work started to feel derivative and, well, "borrowed." In my dream, Paul and I were about to same age, I'm guessing around 40, and he had a jovial personality similar to Bernie Kugel (of course, that doesn't help if you don't know Bernie...). But in the dream, as we traveled about around the countryside, it was not a luxurious-limo-rock-star meandering, but rather hobo-bumming style; as I'm thinking about it, like Hank Morgan and King Arthur in Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. At one point, we snuck into a closed elementary school cafeteria and ate some dry breakfast cereal. In another part of our adventure, we slept on a golf cart at some course we found our way into. Paul lay on the bench in the front, and I was on the one in the back. Just before I awoke, as we were ironically falling asleep in the dream, Paul mentioned that I was a good friend. We had done a lot of things in the dream that I would not have dreamt - pun intended - of doing in real life.
I don't have a clue what these dreams mean, but they were fun to have, and I just accept them on that level.