Life Is But A Dream

A pigsty made of garbage: a masterpiece of unintentional irony.

A pigsty made of garbage: a masterpiece of unintentional irony.

Earlier this week, Kate and I attended our local County Fair with the aim of seeing the No-Shit-Legendary Los Lobos , eating meat on a stick, and maybe yucking it up a bit along the way.  The County Fair is yet another one of those vestiges of Redneck Culture that I still can’t seem to stay away from, no matter how many degrees I accumulate, how many books I read, or how deeply I ensconce myself in the Middle Class Pretensia known as Suburbia, USA.  My struggle to reconcile my roots with my tips, so to speak, is lifelong and I will stop at nothing, no matter how far-fetched or absolutely stupid, to make sense of it all.

This time, I enlisted the aid of my camera phone (far-fetched) and the interpretive guidance of a website called “Dream Moods” (absolutely stupid) to excavate some meaning from this particular foray into the Darkest Heart of HeeHaw.  My camera phone, by strictly journalistic standards,  is a turd of a truth-capturing tool.  It doesn’t take photos as much as it paints pictures: soft, distant-looking associations of watercolory hue and contrast that offer evocative suggestions in lieu of detail.  In short: these pictures look like dreams, thus making my camera phone a hand-held, honest to golly-gee, modern day dream catcher.  Filling in for famed (but almost 50 years-dead) dream interpreter Carl Jung,  the Dream Moods website came to me in classic Jungian fashion: by the random, lotto-ball luck of the Google search engine.  Dream Moods is a poorly-designed super ersatz depository of all things dream-related: “Dream Info”, “Common Dreams”, “Dream Dictionary”, a “Dream Forum”, and something intriguingly called “Dream Bank.”  It’s unclear who is behind “Dream Moods what’s in YOUR dream”, and frankly, I do not care.  I’m only interested in their Dream Dictionary.

As we enter the world of my dreams, a  “mysterious and fascinating world…where the rules of reality do not apply” (Dream Moods’ words, not mine, but I couldn’t have described the Home Ec/Arts and Crafts Pavillion of the County Fair any better myself) we are greeted by none other than a

Troubled, vaguely terrified troll
Troubled, vaguely terrified troll

troll who appears to have made the tragic realization that he has just guzzled down a goblet of poisoned wine intended for his enemy.  Or maybe it’s dawned on him that the next train to the burbs won’t be until 9 AM, so he’ll have to just spend the next 8 hours trying not to get raped at the Metra station.  DM Dream Dictionary says: “To see a troll in your dream, suggests that you have an inferior self-image about yourself. It may also indicate that you are belittling yourself or others. The troll in your dream may represent someone in your waking life who you need to avoid.”  All I can say to the DM Dream Dictionary is, the impact of calling someone out (with God-awful, mirror-punching accuracy) on their own blog is diminished when you don’t care enough to proofread your putdowns for redundancy.  So, who’s got the “inferior self-image about yourself” now, bitch?

Shoota, choppa, 4th grade flunka

Shoota, choppa, 4th grade flunka

Next up, we have an award-winning arsenal from an up-and-coming trench coat mafioso.  DMDD says: “To see or hold a weapon in your dream, indicates a need to defend and protect yourself emotionally and/or physically. You are experiencing some conflict in your waking life. Alternatively, the dream may indicate a hidden desire to hurt someone or something.”   My response to the DMDD: that’s right, smart ass, keep it coming.  You wanna dance?  You wanna dance?

When I stumbled upon the below portrait of desolation and existential emptiness disguised as a Christmas dinner place setting, I immediately thought “Santa didn’t finish his last meal!  Somebody stop the executioner!  Somebody call the Govenor!  They can’t kill Santa!  He’s fucking innocent!”  DMDD says:  “To see meals in your dream, suggests that you are dwelling too much on trivial matters causing your attention to be diverted from important issues.”  I guess the DMDD can’t be bothered with the “trivial matter” of millions of crying, disillusioned children on the morning of December 25, 2009 because that’s exactly the kind of asshole the DMDD is.

"Last night I spent another lonely Christmas..."

“Last night I spent another lonely Christmas…”

  The dream world known as the Home Ec/Arts and Craft pavillion at the County Fair, is, as the DM website insists like a smudge-stick wielding professor, a place “where the rules of reality do not apply.”  Rules like “take out the papers and the trash”, for instance, are topsy-turvied into “Old McGarbage had a farm!  E-I-E-I-Ewwww, How Creative!”  (See Pigs Made of Garbage pic at the tip-top of this blog.)  DMDD says: “To see rubbish in your dream, may be a metaphor to represent something that is nonsense.”  My reponse: a concurring nod and a tense chuckle intended to cover my insecurity.  Is the DMDD laughing with me or at me?  I don’t know.

Finally, here’s a picture of the dream where The No-Shit-Legendary Los Lobos strides across a county fair stage on a crisp summer evening and heroically puts on a 60 dollar ticket show for a 10 dollar crowd.  To say this show was amazing would be selling it short.  It’s been 4 days since I cut a rug on the straw-carpeted ground where I stood, and I’m still smiling today.

David Hidalgo and Steve Berlin

The DMDD has this to say about guitars and saxophones:”To see or play a guitar in your dream, represents passion and emotion. It also relates to sexual connotations and may signal an erotic or sensual dream.”  And: “To see or play a saxophone in your dream, indicates that there is something you need to express from deep within your soul. Perhaps you have made a deep connection with someone.”  As he was signing my CD after the show, The Phenomenal David Hidalgo hit on me, so I guess there’s pretty much no disputing the DMDD on this one.  Usually, when someone I just met hits on me, I’m baffled and pissed off, but I can’t say that about the Phenomenal David Hidalgo.  He was just that smooth.  If I were a different kind of woman (single, heterosexual, and um…trampy), I’d have totally taken him up on it. My encounter with Dream Moods, on the other hand, has baffled me and pissed me off, without even the redeeming “I wouldn’t kick you out of my bed” seedy flattery that attends an overture from a stranger.    Fuck you, Dream Moods, and your poorly-proofread truth.

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