Published writer, compulsive reader, Old School Whovian, Match Game enthusiast, NKOTB fan, data hoarder, and - surprisingly, given that list - married with four kids. Welcome to my take on life, fatherhood, entertainment, and whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
Tonight I saw a rat in the wild for the first time.
It was on 22nd and Clybourn. I had just dropped off Junie's friend and I was waiting to make sure she got in her house safely, when a rat walked out from beneath a parked car.
It looked up at me, seemed to smirk, then ran across the street and under another car.
Ew
Ew
Ew
Kudos to my hometown tho'. 51 years living here, in dense urban neighborhoods, and I'd never seen a rat? Good luck going 51 *hours* in Chicago. Thanks Milwaukee!
The dream started with me watching an art movie in a dark theater.
Timothee Chamalat was the star. He was playing a young Howard Stern in the movie, and unlike what I presume happened in real-life, he was playing him as a teenager obsessed with the rock band KISS. For much of the first scene he was in full KISS makeup.
Then he took out a knife and without hesitation cut a deep path across his face, right to left, and through both his eyeballs.
The film turned upside down, as if someone had flipped the camera, and text on the screen told the audience that it was the director's intent to screen the whole movie in this style. I was impressed by the director's commitment to his art - and very disappointed when it reverted to normal and more text said such a viewing was impractical for a feature length film.
Then the opening credits started. It was a Magnolia production, if I remember right.
The next scene was a bright sunny day, focused on a corner lot, the storefront made of brick. A man sat outside on an old lawn chair. A tan '70's station wagon pulled up too fast, screeching to a halt. A blonde curly haired woman in a denim suit - Howard's Mom - rushed out. The man in the chair, his Dad, rushed to intercept her.
"Where is he?" she said. "I want to see Howard."
"He's' ok," the Dad said. "The doctor's say he'll be ok."
Now she sees Howard, playing with his younger sibling just down the street, a bandage across his eyes (but still, somehow, able to see and walk and play as normal).
"Oh my God," she said. "The blood! His eyes!"
"He'll be ok Helen," the Dad said.
And I woke up.
Not all of this flows logically, but it was a dream. It's not required. That said, it felt very factual and true-to-life at the time.
I had a dream last night where I got a job working in an office in a typical Milwaukee home that was central to my family's history (aka like my real life home). But it was much longer, with a windowless side that stretched hundreds of feet.
The office existed because of a secret in the house: a sunken WWII submarine that was only half exposed in the basement, like a fossilized dinosaur still mostly trapped in stone. It ran the length of the basement (hence, I suppose, the unusual outside length of the home). Although we sold tickets to go see the sub, it was also apparently a secret to the public at large.
I was promoted into a position of some authority in the office, and revealed the submarine's existence to the public, because I felt the fallen sailors in the wreck deserved to be buried with honors.
Cut to some odd scenes set in and around the Green Bay Packers of the late 70's and early '80's.
Back to the office, where a worker/relative was angry with my decision. "Did you even think about our jobs? How are we supposed to make a living now?" I was told.
And that was the dream in full.
