If you’re reading this, please get out your notebook and start figuring out where I went wrong as a child, or somewhere in between then and now.  First, the fact that I continue to return to the green felt to punish myself with sick beats means something is seriously wrong with me.  Do I think I am a better player than those I sit with?  Mostly all of them; which brings us back to the fact that there is something seriously wrong with me.  How can I be a better player than them when they know that 2-4 is going to beat a flopped set of Aces? 

But getting past the severe poker disability, let’s talk the next issue.  Dreams what do they mean and where do they come from?  Read the last part of this post to pick up on a dreamscape that seemed to go on forever.  Yes, I’m aware that dreams last 3 weeks instead of 3 seconds.  Back to back nights with dreams remembered and they are too bizarre.

The dream started with me walking into the old digs, of course the whole house was much larger and more complex than in reality.  There were four TVs in the living room, three were overhead, the other one was huge and centered as a focal point.  All of them were blaring.  I looked for a control to turn them off but couldn’t find one.

I went through a hallway to another room that had more TVs blaring in it and found one of my sons sleeping in a bed, only problem was he was about 12 years old…regression in time and age here.  I went back through the main entry room to a gigantic kitchen that had more TVs that were blaring, headed back to the main entry room and on the wall to wall, wrap around couch, found my son that’s shown in the last post, he was sleeping on the couch, at least his age was in conjunction with the other one, they were teenagers.  They woke up and I gave them hell about the TVs.

Suddenly everything went to present day.  The whole house was a jumble with people in and out, remodeling and tearing shelves off the walls, the kitchen counter was filled with who knows what but you couldn’t find a space to set anything on it.  I was really distressed, wondering who ordered the remodel and who most of these people were – they weren’t contractors – and then suddenly…I began to recognize most of them, they were poker players. people I knew from across the tables.  They were very industrious, men and women, laughing and having a great time.  I even started to relax and talked to a few of them and pointed out the reason that the shelf wouldn’t come down is they had failed to remove screws holding the brackets to the wall.  Kee-rist, is this sick or what?  Help me Amy.

Then I was out, into the night air, walking down a dark sidewalk that went through a park.  Ahead of me were groups of people, and someone in front of them was holding up a stop sign so I stopped.  The group of people walked towards me and as they approached I could see that they were wearing Halloween costumes.  Suddenly behind that group of people, another group of people appeared, same scenario, ready for Halloween, and they were all adults – there were no kids in the group.  I suddenly realized that up ahead in the dark, on the right, was a group that were holding Mic booms and movie cameras.  By now another group of Halloween costumed folks were waiting to walk towards me on the sidewalk.

Everyone stopped and looked at me.  As if it suddenly dawned on them somebody else was on the scene.  They motioned me to come on through.  I did walk through the group and as I stepped out the other side of the crowd, a kid that looked like he was about 16 and holding one of the Mic booms, ran up to me and said he had some jewelry made by his mother and asked if I wanted to see it.  Before I could answer, he rolled down the top of his shorts, and showed me piercing jewelry that dangled just below his belly button.  No he didn’t show me any privates, he just showed the jewelry.  I said something – telling him his mother made fine jewelry, and headed off into the dark.

Don’t think the dream fest ends there, it doesn’t.

Somehow I ended up in the back of an old apartment building, it didn’t seem as if I had lived there but yet it felt strangely familiar.  The parking lot was filled with old cars that appeared as if they ran but only the God of Auto Engines would know how they managed to start. A 1,000 miles of garbage was scattered around the parking lot area, and off to the left, alongside the building (it looked like tenants just leaned out the window and threw their garbage) there was a gigantic fenced area that was filled with garbage.

It was dark, I was alone, and why I felt compelled to walk up on top of the garbage is beyond me.  Help me Amy!  I’m really a sick bitch.

As I stood in the mess (imagine this, I didn’t smell anything), I saw something move down on one end just at the edge of my vision, it was a rat.  UGH-U-U-U-IE!  I was ready to flee when I saw a toddler, underneath the edge of an overhang in the garbage pit, a little boy about two years old, wearing a diaper, standing on a flimsy blanket.  OMG!  I climbed over the garbage and was standing on a wire overhang which was the ceiling of his small home.

Further back. under the overhang, I spotted a boy that was about 8 or 9 huddled under a blanket.  RUH-ROH!  A bell went off, I was standing over a homeless person’s abode.  And almost directly underneath me, through the garbage ceiling of the wire, I saw a man sit up.  My brain went panic mode.  What if he thought I was there to roust his family?

Weird as it is, they appeared to be clean, not covered with smudge and grime from their living conditions and out of nowhere we were in a conversation.  I was telling the father (I never did see him, more like saw an outline) that I wondered if they had food.  The boy told me if I’d go to the store and bring him some milk and chocolate cookies, he would really like that.  I asked if he liked Oreos and he wanted something else, something I didn’t recognize the name of.  The toddler was running around.  I gave up on the food query and dug into my pocket.  I had some cash and I pulled out $25 and handed it around the wire ceiling to the father.

Somewhere/somehow I felt like I was leaving the area but who would know?  The phone rang and pulled me into the world where we spend most of our time.

And when I checked my email today, I had one from Suzanne, filled with hysterical works of art crafted from natural things like fruits, etc.  The end of the email states that it’s International Disturbed People’s Day.  Maybe I’m ok…

Amy?