Wednesday, April 15, 2009


So, I had this dream just last night.  It has nothing to do with El Topo, but I had mentioned the film to Alisa the other day.  We were talking about surreal films or something like that after our bike ride and it seemed like a logical image to use to talk about dreams and the such.  

Her piece, to me, evokes some sort of Western myth or surrealism.  Her piece keeps me thinking about films like Dead Man and There Will Be Blood... in reality, it may have more to do with Greek Mythology and Norse aesthetics, but oh well, I don't have those pics on my hard drive. 

Anyways, so this dream.  It was very vivid.  Sleep lately has been potent because we haven't been getting enough it.  In the dream Alisa and I had been chosen for whatever reason to speak to an entire auditorium of high schoolers about entrepreneurship.  This doesn't really make too much sense because neither of us are really business inclined.   If one of us were though, it would probably be Alisa.  

This sentiment is expressed not only in this world, but in my dreams as well apparently.  So in the dream we meet at this huge high school in the suburbs.  It sort of feels like a John Hughes film or something.  

I am there before Alisa.  I am a fucking wreck.  I am unkempt, unshaven, unbathed, smelly, and to top it all off, the only shirt I have to wear is my Holy Fuck T-shirt (like, the dance band from Ontario).  Maybe I am hungover.  It's hard to tell, sometimes much like in real life.  

Class is in session and all the kids are out of the hallways, but you can feel that energy of young people sitting in desks, awaiting this assembly in the auditorium.  That energy is building and I am beginning to feel like they are going to heckle me and eat me alive. 

The principal introduces himself.  I try to be adult like and all, but I can't because I have a problem with him as he is this authority figure of young people and I know there's  no way young people can respect this guy.  Not with his green suit and baldness.  He sort of reminds me of P.R. Deltoid. 

He asks me if he can get me anything and I desperately need a cup of coffee.  He says sure, he'll be right back and I am waiting for ever on him when Alisa arrives.  She's of course well prepared to inform the young on the necessities of starting their own business and how to survive and strive in our wacky economy.  

She's looking at her watch.  It's go time.  Luckily Alisa is on first. As a team she will surely make that solid first impression that we desperately need.  But what will I do??? I don't have  a speech or anything.  I don't even have an idea!!! What do I know about starting a business. Nothing! I can hardly balance my fucking check book and remember to take out the trash on whatever night the trash has to be taken out, I don't even fucking know that!!! 

Much as in real life, I really admire Alisa.  She is strong and although she won't admit it or just can't see it, whatever it is, she has her shit together. I'm thinking about the kids and their innocence.  If I can't make a point about starting their own business perhaps I should make any sort of point.  My mind is trying to pick out something meaningful, something important, something that I think the kids need to hear.  

I decided to maybe try to score a drink.  Get a little buzz and to rant to the kids, more to just the boys.  Just single out the boys and ramble in a bourbon fueled tangent about the importance of RESPECT in all relationships, and especially concerning the boys and how they tend to treat the girls. Then I will turn to the girls and tell them that us boys are generally as dumb as they think we might be and that they have to take advantage of our stupidity. If  I can't make a point about entrepreneurship, I want to make a point about feminism.  

We're walking down a hallway and I'm complaining about that principal who never delivered on that cup of coffee.  There's the SRO (the School Resource Officer), the school cop, that post columbine era cop, there with his 9mm, to "hold it down" and answer any questions we might have about the D.A.R.E. program or perhaps M.A.D.D. 

"That fucking principal, that son of a bitch, he said he was gonna get me a cup of coffee," I moan.  

"Shh!," Alisa turns to me, "There's a cop right there!" 

"What? It's not like it's against the law to call somebody a SON OF A BITCH!!!"

and i wake up, horrified that i just yelled SON OF A BITCH in my sleep, at seven in the morning.  Alisa's right there and she doesn't seem to have stirred.  I must not have yelled it... 

and i'm off the hook for the whole speech to 1000 teenagers. that's cool too...

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