Dreams
4a.m. March 2
I’m a rational guy. Why do I not have rational dreams? I’ll just be Z-ing along, minding my own business, when some whacko scenario elbows its way into my cranium and takes over my mind. I’m told that I talk in my sleep. Who wouldn’t when besieged by such events? Tonight was no exception save for the fact that it was a double feature.
To begin with, I am walking down the street when some random guy walks up and wants to engage me in a conversation about an upcoming political primary about which I know nothing. I try to beg of by pleading ignorance and indifference. He’s clearly agitated and thinks I should be as well. You know, civic duty and all that.
Apparently there is a primary approaching in which three people are running, one of whom is an air traffic controller. Never did catch what they were running for, but no matter. There was no autofill in the dream. I’m thinking, “Who cares?” But my nutcase guy says, “Well, you should because what about the upcoming debate in Los Angeles?”
“What about it?” I say.
“Are you that dense?” he replies. “He lives in L.A. and they’re going to have to fly there for the debate. He’s an air traffic controller. He’s going to arrange a mid-air collision between their two planes. Wouldn’t you?”
“Well I have to admit,” I stammer, “I hadn’t really thought of it that way.” I try reasoning with him but to no avail. He’s so jacked up over the whole thing that there’s no point to it. I find myself looking for an exit path from the conversation but, of course, it’s a damn dream and it won’t let go of me.
“What about the General Election? He’ll do the same damn thing. They need to pass a law against air traffic controllers running for office.”
Thankfully, at that moment I wake up. I notice the nearly full moon outside. Nearly. I think why don’t I just go for a walk? But I’m warm and cozy and drift off again. Into more nonsense. In the new dream I have decided to go out for a walk after all. Bad idea.
I have dressed and am just about to go out the door when I start to question my judgement. I think, “There’s a full moon out. I’m in the desert. What about the snakes? They’ll be able to see me. What about that?” I recognize the obvious peril but I really do wish to go out. What do I do? It quickly dawns upon me. I need a dog. Problem is, I don’t own one. Minor issue. I’ll steal one. Just for an hour or so. It’s still dark so its owner won’t see me.
Why a dog, you ask. Think about it. Dog sees snake before I do. Dog barks and pisses off snake. Snake bites dog and not me. Not good for dog but I’m thinking, “What kind of dumbass barks at a snake?” Answer: Early Warning Dog. The dream hasn’t even gotten going yet, trust me. My brain shifts to canaries in coal mines, but then rapidly to a scene at a gas station.
I’m at a pump and I look over and see the guy at the next pump stuffing something yellow into the filler neck to his gas tank, then quickly screwing on the cap. I’m dying to know what’s going on so I saunter over and ask the guy what’s up.
“Whaddya’ mean?”
“The yellow thing.”
“Oh, that’s my Canary.”
“Your Canary?”
“Yeah. He’s like the canary in the coal mine. If he drops dead you gotta get the hell out cause there’s toxic fumes.”
I gathered my thoughts.
“So………………you keep a live canary under your gas cap.”
“Yeah. Look at the sign on the gas pump.” I do.
It says something to the effect that inhaling or ingesting petrol can be dangerous or fatal. Duh, I am thinking.
“If I unscrew the cap and Harry’s dead I know not to drink or inhale the fumes of anything in that pump.”
“His name’s Harry?”
“Yeah. Everything needs a name. Well, see ya.” He drives off. I stand there.
Why the dog part of the dream abandoned me I’ll never know. I’m not going to go see a dream analyst. Don’t need to know that I have a mother-mind-dog complex. Had Freud ever spoken with me he likely would have ditched psychoanalysis for model ship building. All I can say is that I probably would have been better off had this been an axe murderer dream. I give up.
