Grumpy Blogs about life, dreams and Work

I walked down the sidewalk with Bee and the crew.  We lived in Pasadena CA. I was obnoxious and drunk, happy, walking out ahead. Most likely I was teasing them by pretending to close the side view mirrors of parked cars.  I do that when I’m really drunk.  I find a mischievous joy in thinking about the car owner when they get in their car the next day.  They are running late, a bit groggy as they stay up to long the night before, turning on the car, checking the rear review and then the side. “Damn it!” They have to get out of the car and fix the mirror. The very thought makes me laugh especially when I’m drunk.  My friends, including Bee, all hate this about me. They think it’s juvenile and stupid. I’ve stopped doing it when they are around, but I will run up to a car and pretend to do it, just to see them get mad. Anyway, as I crossed the street heading toward home, a Porsche sped by missing me by inches.  My drunkenness quickly left as adrenalin rushed in.  The Porsche stopped at the end of the next block due to a red light.  I stood in the crosswalk and flipped them off. I hopped they saw.  I wanted them to come back. I wanted a confrontation. They made a sharp left when the light turned green, the another left at the next street.  I could hear their engine racing.  In less than 60 seconds they made another left on the street I was standing on.  They raced up to corner and pulled over into a skidding stop at the corner opposite me.  A family with a small child as sitting on the curb. The father pulled the baby between his legs as the Porsche came to the stop.  The people were laughing in side.  I don’t know if they were drunk, or not.  It was the end of the Rose Parade. The parents on the street curb were terrified. I went to the drivers side door, of the Porsche but the car was English and the driver was on the other side. They were middle aged B list actors. There was two men and two women.  Tracey Ullman was one of the women.  Is she B or A list? They laughed hysterically.

“What is your problem man? You almost hit those people and you almost hit me.”

“What do I care, it’s not my kid.”

“If you had a kid, you would care.”

“I do have a kid, and I don’t care.”

Dream – Karma Buddy.

I sat in my wheel chair and struggled to open the front door of the pizza place around the corner. I lost the use of my legs somehow. To open the door I pushed it open and latched it with a simple hook to an eyelet on the wall. The door was green wood with a mesh screen like a porch screen door on a cottage lake house. As I did this, many people passed ignoring me. I was just a cripple trying to get a slice of pizza. I did not ask for help, nor did I want it. This was my life, my dharma, and I did not think to ask for help more than ask for help opening a door when I could walk. Some drunk fellows came out of the pizza place and undid the latch. The door slammed shut.

9/27/07 – Yuppy Town
Dream. I had moved back to my Father and step mothers house. I was going back to high school with all my knowledge and experience of being 38, yet, I was only 17 in the dream. The bus pulled up outside and my brother, sister and I scrambled to finish getting dressed. I quickly tried on three different outfits. For some reason I was fretting about having just the right combination of colors and hipster style, but not too much or too little.

An alternative rock band played their new song at an urban bookstore.  The song was driven by an angry rhythm of how wrong family can be even though the myth is beautiful. In realty, family often drowns us all.  The song exposed how a character named White, had a good life most of the year, except for one day, Xmas. Each Xmas he went home to play at the myth of family one more time. 

Dream. I was living with my father and mother, both of whom are on, or over, their 3rd marriage. Oh, flower power unite! Anyway, It was a nightmare. It seems like I left Bee to live in my mother and fathers house.  I had asked, and they agreed.  I turned into a teenager again. Through moving home and being a teen, then in my twenties, I discovered that my father never really wanted kids and he resented all of us.  Everyone else was gone by then, but me.  So, this latest incident of his resentment was all mine to enjoy.  In the dream, I was yelling at him, “If you never wanted us in the first place, then why did you invite me home?”

“I didn’t invite you, you invited yourself and I agreed.”

“What’s so wrong about wanting a father to love you like a fathers supposed to?”

“Nothing. Except I never wanted you, or your brother and sister.  You’re a mistake I had to live with for eighteen years.  I thought I was free and your back.”

I screamed at the ceiling.  I had been a man, grown, off into my own life, married, childless and I came back to this, to be told what I learned so long ago? It was maddening.  I regretted ever being a child again. 

The dream moved on.

Some sales person called me to sell internet marketing services for one of my websites.  He had the domain name wrong, and lost two points immediately.  I told him the correct name and he pulled it up on his computer.  He started laughing hysterically because of the bad design and inferior programming.  I got mad and told him the site may be ugly, but it produces significant revenue. He kept laughing. I hung up.

Even in my dreams I’m inferior and cranky.