Stray thoughts: 6/16/2017

It’s has
been a little bit of time since I’ve had a strange dream that I’ve been able to
recall enough of it to form sentences around it. That’s not to say I haven’t
had some strange dreams in that time frame but many have left the scene of the
crime after cleaning up all but a few pieces of evidence. The last
“strange” one I could recall was dated 5/3/17.

If it
wasn’t for how the recall starts and ends, I would think that this could be 2
or 3 dreams that are somehow meshed together.

It opened
as I pulled into the little corner gas station that was close by my house where
I grew up. Just a simple two garage bay
service station and country store that stocked a few necessities. It was
owned by a husband and wife with a mechanic on site.

I parked
the car, and walked in and everything changed. The room was solid white. A
bright white, white chairs lined the room and it either seemed like there was a
wedding about to happen or a funeral. I saw the wife in the corner of the
building and went up and told her I needed $10.00 regular and handed her the
cash, she said thank you like everything was normal. I turned to walk away, I
acknowledged my middle school principal sitting there in chair, coat/tie and
his once fiery red hair and beard was littered with gray and white
streaks.  We shook hands, spoke about his
son who was a year ahead of me in school, said good bye and I left.

I was
going out the door and I heard a noise. Actor James Cromwell was standing
there, also dressed in a suit and tie and he was rattling off words in a
language I had never heard. It was like he was preaching to me. Pointing at me,
likely damning me to hell in some foreign tongue.  So I left. I got in my car, and pulled out,
took the right hand turn and was headed home. The store was about a mile from
our house (I know this because as a kid I had my dad measure out a mile so I
could time myself riding my bike to the store). I’d turn the corner at our yard
and go up to the neighbors driveway and take off.  

that mile, the afternoon turned to night and I flipped the head lights on. I
turned right down my street, waved at my neighbor “buck-o-five” who
had a lamp in his yard and he was attending to some yard work. I’m still amazed
that he and his wife are still married, because there is no way he paid her as
much attention as he did to his lawn.

I go
further down the road and there is a moving truck backed into the drive way.
People are carrying stuff out of the house, stuff that I didn’t recognize as
ours and none of the cars looked familiar. I pull in and start to ask what is
going on, and time blinks.

I’m in the
high school gymnasium with two guys that were two years ahead of me in school.
Guys that I haven’t seen in 25 years. They were wearing football jerseys and I
was in t-shirt and shorts. I remember telling them that “We were getting
new uniforms” and we walked down the steps past the girls locker-room and
down to the lobby of the gym where the concession stand was set up during
basketball games. In the dream that area was walled off with doors that looked
like it had 5-6 coolers that you’d find a convenience store that would hold,
beer, or drinks. They were empty.

The room opened up(very narrow in reality), and old high school coaches(aged as
they were back then) were unpacking boxes and giving the new uniforms a once
over. It was like we were teenagers again and wanting to see the new digs. They
were different from what we wore.
“Get out of here”, one of the coaches growled when the head
coach chastised him for it, while reminding him he was the same way when he was
17. The colors were right. Royal Blue and Old Gold, it looked Like Duke’s
current football uniforms with the Old Gold replacing the white. I reach to
pick one up and time blinks again.

I’m sitting at a campfire with a few people that I recognize and some I don’t
know.  It’s outside of an old tin barn.
I’m sitting on a stump and leaning against the barn wall. Actor and or singer
Kris Kristofferson is blinking between his 1985 self and the father of some
guys I used to know. The only thing they really had in common was a
mustache.  Kris and or Wally was rolling
a joint and telling the guy to his left that he wanted another to take home to
his wife.

Two guys
that I didn’t know walked up. One was carrying a bullwhip whipping it on the
ground, causing leaves and dirt to dance around. He snapped it again and it got
kinda close to me. I didn’t say anything but I stared at him.  He popped it
again and it hit my feet which were stretched out as I was leaning
against the barn.

I stood
up. He popped it again by his side.  He
was reaching his arm back like he was going to pop it again and I charged him,
putting him in some bastard form of a choke hold combined with a half nelson.
He was saying “let me go”, and others around were just watching,
waiting, trying to figure out was going on. The guy that walked up with him
pulled a gun and held it on me. The first asshole was about to go night-night
and I would deal with the second one shortly.
I dropped him and smacked at the gun and it fired as I made contact with
the bullet shooting Wally Kristofferson in the shoulder.  Two guys grabbed the guy with the gun and time
blinked again as chaos was about to take over.

I was back
in my car driving  away from my house,
night turned to afternoon and I pulled into to get gas at the corner store. I
opened the door and things were normal. Their shelves were in place. I walked over
to a cooler, got a can of Coca-Cola, a Zero bar, and 4 packs of 1981 Topps
Baseball cards.  I told Frances that I
wanted $10.00 of gas and she asked if I wanted Johnny(the mechanic) to pump it
and I said no I’ve got it. She told me the total was $12.00. I hand her a
$10.00 and two $1.00 bills and walked out to pump the gas. I was waking up as I
was plugging the nozzle into the hole to the tank.

I can’t
explain much of any of it. I passed by the little corner store a couple weeks ago
when going to a funeral, but the only name/face that was mentioned in any of this
that I saw that day was my old head football coach, but even that being nearly
two weeks later is a stretch.  I’ll never
be able to explain dreams. I’m just glad that a handful of them are clear
enough to recall.  


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