Because History Jim has to go do a presentation in a few minutes (at Norlite Nursing Center, as part of their National Nursing Home Week celebrations), I'm gonna leave you with something from five years ago.
Tomorrow—the story of how I did something incredibly stupid ten years ago, to the date.
Sigh. Sometimes, I amaze even myself. And usually not in a good way.
8-)
*****
(as originally posted May 18th, 2018)
I have no idea how I woke up in London.
Don’t worry; I’m not in England at the moment. I didn’t flip out because the warm weather is now gone and all of a sudden felt the need to fly over 5,000 miles for absolutely no reason. Nope. . .I just had what may be the strangest dream in a life of some very strange ones. To wit--
The dream started fairly realistically, with me getting a phone call that something wasn’t going right at work. On occasion, I guess, my dreams become a little too literal, but that’s just part of the price I pay for being me. Anyway, in my dream, I start to head down to the station to see what’s going on, and I all of a sudden find myself on stage, singing with what I later find out is Argentina’s second most popular Steve Miller cover band (because I’m sure there’s more than one, right?) Anyway, after performing a rather wicked version of “Jet Airliner”, which is kinda funny because I can’t sing worth a darn, I get off-stage and go to my hotel room somewhere in the California desert. I can’t get the door unlocked, which doesn’t bother me too much because, as we all know, the desert can be quite warm during the day, and I like heat. However, when it starts to snow, I fiddle with the door lock a little more, finally getting into the room and going to sleep, only to be awoken by the sounds of Big Ben going off outside my window.
That’s when I woke up in London, and then my dream ended, allowing me once again to wake up, this time in Marquette.
The strange thing is this--those are the only parts of the dream I can actually remember. I have this nagging feeling that a few more things happened during this strange adventure, some of which involved other people and part of which, I do believe, involved some sort of. . .something underground that I wasn’t supposed to see, and I have a feeling that the “something” may have been responsible for my waking up in London. I don’t think, though, that it was responsible for my getting to Argentina in the first place.
I think I did that on my own.
And how did I end up in Argentina and in London? I’ve never been to South America, and while I’ve been in England a bunch of times, it was always just to spend a lovely four hours in the seething pit of humanity that’s known as the Heathrow International Airport waiting lounge. While I’d like to some day, I’ve never been into London, and I’ve certainly never visited Big Ben, although I’ve seen it in so many movies and TV shows that I feel like I know it. My subconscious apparently knows it, and knows it quite well!
Now, as far as I can tell, I didn’t eat anything out of the ordinary, read anything strange, or watch anything bizarre before doing to sleep last night. I had a “normal” day at work There was nothing freaky and/or bizarre about the time leading up to the dream, although as I write this, I’m starting to wonder if maybe that was itself the cause of the dream. I had a “normal” day, and since I don’t often seem to have “normal” days, maybe my psyche was making up for the fact that there wasn’t anything usual to challenge it while I was awake.
Maybe my subconscious was getting back at me for not giving it a new toy to play with that day.
No matter what, though, I’m glad I woke up in Marquette and not in London. Because while it would be nice to wake up one morning in London, especially after hitting the stage with Argentina’s number two Steve Miller cover band, I’m guessing the commute to work that day would be a killer.
And I don’t know if I’d want to go through that. I like walking three blocks instead of flying 5,000 miles.
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