Author: mdavidhornbuckle

I had a number of interesting dreams last night, some of them involving Dothan and Westgate Park, which was the recreational center down the street from our house when I was growing up. In my dream, Westgate Park was also a bus terminal. Also, I had a recollection (in the dream) that Kelsey Grammar was the “equipment director” there before he was on television. I don’t know what that could have been about.

Really crazy dreams this morning, just in the hour or so in between M leaving for work and when I woke up. They all just sort of melded together.

First, I was in a hotel with M and several other people, including Neil from the Bridge. M complained that Neil came in and didn’t seem like himself and ran into the bathroom. I didn’t see him, so I waited for him to come out. He never did.

Instead, a beam of light seemed to come from the bathroom, projecting an image on the wall that said “Squeaky” over and over again, definitely a reference to the Gainesville band of that name. The image changed, moved around variously to all four walls and eventually showed some sort of commercial with a number we could call for more information. I said out loud, “I’m more interested in how they’re doing this than what they’re saying.” I started examining the windows, and noticed several cameras outside, apparently dangling from the floor above us.

Meanwhile, a woman who was in the room with us called the number, but failed to find out what it was all about.

Then some giant (he must have been over 7 feet tall) came by to replace a chair and radio in the room, even though he admitted there was nothing wrong with the old ones. I talked to him about the projections, and he said that several people had had similar complaints. He was fascinated by it, but couldn’t do anything of course. Also, inexplicably, there was a hole in the floor, and we could see a kitchen below. The giant from hotel management didn’t care about that either.

At that point, the transition is unclear, but I was sort of attending a high school reunion that was also somehow a work conference (in the dream, I was still working for Karen Entner). The only reunion person I remember clearly was Tammy Tindal Taylor, who seemed genuinely happy to see me (utterly unrealistic). It was supposed to be some kind of dinner or maybe a lunch, but I was having a hard time finding a comfortable chair to sit in, so I left.

I went to go clean out my car, which was extremely messy. I got a call from Karen asking me when M’s conference would be over (apparently she was also at a conference in the same town, so we were staying longer than some others) and to just give her receipts for my meals.

The next thing I remember is M screaming at me to turn off the TV, and I woke up with a start.

Last night I dreamed about a weird softball game that included both kids and adults. The kids were using Heelies when they ran the bases and didn’t seem to have any idea this might be against the rules. There didn’t seem to be any kind of umpire, and it wasn’t a real league. I’m not clear on why the game was happening.

Last night’s dreams were like a zany comedy. I was investigating some mobsters by pretending to work in the building they used as their office, assisted by Paula Abdul, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and some other guy whose name I don’t remember (if he had one) and who wasn’t very bright. The final chase scene came when we were caught by the mobsters, but we convinced them that we really had been hired to do some job in that building, like run a sort of post office. This was working even though Kareem and Paula were playing themselves, and the mobsters recognized them. But it all came crashing down when we were moving our belongings out, figuring we’d lost and would have to give up the investigation, when the dumb guy starts moving his several pairs of Reebok tennis shoes. (There was an earlier chase scene that involved a carload of Reeboks). This somehow clued the mobsters in to who we really were.

In another part of the same dream, Kareem was making jokes about my last name, which in retrospect, didn’t make any sense.

In last night’s dream, I befriended a wealthy family who may have been connected to the Chinese mafia. I was helping them build a dock at their lake house. The saga covered years of the relationship. They were always watching this British scandal show on TV that frequently talked about their secret family history. In the end, the mother was selling chicken wings at some sort of fair or festival, but they weren’t selling well, so I was eating the leftovers.