Monday, February 04, 2008

Blue Oyster Cult 'Tyranny & Mutation'

If you checked over the weekend, then you know that I didn’t post an update. An update about one of the strangest dreams of my life… So here goes…

I was riding in an early 80’s 4 door sedan driven by Pop Summers (a man that has been dead many years) with my friend Sean Whitley (the guy who believes that he can easily survive a “zombie apocalypse”). We were traveling the winding mountainous one lane roads of West Virginia. The kind of roads with steep hills with rock and forest on one side and a 500-feet drop off on the other.

At one point, we were going downhill and Pop was getting kind of nervous. I’m used to such roads so it didn’t bother me that we were moving very fast, but I looked at the speedometer anyway. It was a model of car where the speedometer topped out at 80mph. Pop had the needle “pegged” all the way to the right, so I tapped his arm and said, “You can slow down there, Ned Jarrett.”

We got to our destination… A subterranean entrance made of concrete. The kind of entrance seen on a secret bunker from the X-files. Once we entered inside, we started upwards with a series of steps and catwalks. They were much like the road that brought us to that point. The catwalks weren’t very wide and at some points very high above the concrete floor below. The whole thing was very Escher-esque.

We came to a place where there was more than half of a tree sticking out of the wall of earth. The limbs were grown out, but had no leaves. There was one huge root that we would have to climb to get to the next level. Sean asked, “You gonna shimmy up there anytime soon?”

“I’m going to wait for that elephant,” as I pointed out an elephant being escorted up the root by a small man. (Yeah, I know that it doesn’t make sense)

Before I could start my ascent up the tree’s root, Pop shoved me to the side and made his way to the next level with ease. Once he got up to that next level… He jumped! I can’t remember if he was trying to jump across to something or just jumping down to climb back up again… But anyway… Pop had a bad landing. Sean and I checked his leg to make sure that it wasn’t broken and it seemed all right. Pop made it to his feet with our help and started testing his leg by dancing a slow moving jig as he shifted weight on and off of it. And when he walked, he had a slight limp.

Then as quick as a flash… My boss Bruce Wheeler swooped in and volunteered to take Pop to the hospital just to make sure he was all right. He pointed out an easier way to make the next level that was just to the left of the tree’s root. It was a set of stairs that we hadn’t notice before. Then Bruce was gone as quick as he came in. Nothing more. He made his way out through the double metal doors.

We made it up to the next level where we joined a group of ladies in skirts and pantsuits. Some of them wearing those bad horn-rimmed eyeglasses from the late 50’s. And there was one particular “loud mouthed” woman leading the tour… Sean and I got on her nerves immediately when we caught looking into the rooms we were passing. She said that we were disturbing the students in the classrooms that we were peering into.

We were in a high school… But not like any high school you know of today… The school was all made of dark wood. The floors were comprised of dark slats. The walls were made of dark wood and in some cases, the same kind of slats that also made up the floor. The hallways were dark, but the classrooms were painted white, well lit, and for the most part… Much more cheery than the hallways.

A school bell rang and the hallways filled up with students. Sean and I decided to ditch the tour and go on our own.

We ended up in a garage with a dirt floor. Again, the garage wasn’t well lit and it had that “earth” smell. Sean and I sat on a stoop to take a rest. There were only a few guys hanging out in the garage when we all turned our heads towards the commotion in the road outside.

I saw an old Datsun truck whip around another vehicle right after a long blast of a horn. It looked like the truck my Grandfather Pence once owned.

The Datsun entered the parking lot and was violently “center punched” (hit in the middle of the back bumper causing the back wheels to be lifted off the ground in order to put the vehicle wherever you want) and shoved out of the other driver’s way. I could see why the other driver was so upset… He and his 1966 Shelby Mustang were cut off by the other vehicle with a dangerous move.

The driver of the Datsun came into the garage and that’s where the Mustang driver caught up with him. Mr. Mustang was very upset that his muscle car classic could have been damaged and explained all that to Mr. Datsun who couldn’t have cared less. Mr. Mustang was trying to goad Mr. Datsun into a physical altercation by shoving, cursing, and belittling him.

That’s when an old bully from my high school days showed up…

“Rob” was a guy that I never personally talked to. He was a bit of a bully, but never gave me any trouble because he was an underclassman. He didn’t look all that intelligent… You know the type. The kind of person that could have all the degrees in the collegiate world, but had the physical attributes of a stereotypical “dumb guy”. Think Jim Carrey “dumb guy” with a slight case of buck teeth and there you have “Rob”.

“Rob” jumped into the middle of the group that had formed a circle around Mustang and Datsun. He was there trying to get the fight started.

Sean looked over to me and asked, “Since we’re the only adults around here… Should we do something to break this up?”

“We shouldn’t get involved,” I said. “We’re spectators in this world. We should sit back and enjoy.”

Mr. Datsun had taken all the crap he was going to take and pulled out some sort of weapon. The circle that had formed around him all took a step back.

Sean seemed uneasy about the events unfolding in front of us and asked, “Why aren’t they running since that guy pulled out a gun?”

With a calm voice and a sip of my drink I said to Sean, “Are you kidding? Even toddlers in West Virginia are packing Derringers in their diapers.”

“Rob” said, “You think you’re gonna hurt somebody with that glorified potato gun?”

That’s when I got a good look at his weapon… It looked like a comical “ray gun” prop from a bad sci-fi flick from the 50’s. It looked like as if it was made of blue plastic.

“Rob” verbally pushes the guy to use the “ray gun”. But Mr. Datsun realizes that someone could get hurt and his hand starts to get shaky.

“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?” yelled the shop teacher. He walked into the garage with a box under his arm. The circle breaks up. The shop teacher walks around to the door just to the side of Sean and me. He instructs us all to go inside and have a seat. He points a finger towards me and says, “Starting with this guy!”

We go inside to find a large room that looks like a cross between a gymnasium and warehouse. Again, the combination of bleachers and warehouse shelving look Escher-esque. It didn’t make sense… A weird combination of warehouse storage shelves and bleachers to sit on. Even in my dream I pointed out that weird fact to Sean.

We all got settled and a group of teachers came in. They announced that we would be taking an aptitude test. I looked at Sean and told him that we were “outta here”.

We immediately got the attention of the teachers as we made our way back towards the door. We were stopped by several faculty members led by a male teacher. He asked us where we were going.

That’s when I told him that we were there to pick up Sean’s sister. But he believed that we were students there. I tried to explain that I had graduated from high school back in 1985, but he would have nothing of it. I wasn’t going to waste my time and take that test.

“We’ll just pay a visit to the Principal’s Office and call the police,” he said. “They’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“That’s fine,” I said.

Sean and I were lead to the office across school grounds by a group of teachers made mostly of women. I kept trying to explain why we were there. I said, “I’ve had premarital sex many times. I’ve known the love of a woman…” I then looked towards the oldest teacher there (in her upper 50’s) and gave her a knowing smile… “A much older woman.”

And that’s when I woke myself up laughing.

Let me know what you think by leaving a comment.


  1. Anonymous6:25 PM

    OK, since you specifically asked for comments, here goes:

    I couldn't care less about other people's dreams, and my eyes glaze over as soon as they start talking/writing about them. In my experience, people only care about their own dreams - they give fuck-all about anyone else's.

  2. Anonymous10:59 PM

    What we really want to know is... what kind of free food did you eat that gave you weird dreams?

  3. Anonymous8:21 AM

    Dude, you might be a tad bit disturbed. Keep it up.

  4. Thanks again Christine for your delicious brand of negativity. :)

    Actually, I'm very interested in hearing about the dreams of others. I try to decipher the meaning and symbolism because I believe that much can be learned from your dreams.

  5. Bebo,

    I had this dream before Free Food February.

  6. Thank you Charles. You know that I'll keep it because you know me so well.

  7. Anonymous8:35 PM

    I know, I know. But it is possible that you ate some free food anyway, and it's always fun to give you some grief. ;)