Jack Kerouac once wrote a book called "Book of Dreams." The title says it all. I've never read it, usually if someone starts a conversation with, "I had this dream last night..." I just sort of nod off. So, anyway, my dreams are often these incomprehensible mis-mashes, a manic, cross-genre goulash of scenes and images - scattered shards of stuff that rarely makes sense to me. I guess this is also how I sometimes look at the world around me, and it's also reflected in the pieces that my theater group, Black Forest, has done in the last ten years or so.
Sometimes though, I do get clear messages. I dream of about Ike and Tina Turner and I wake up and write the scene down. That scene will premiere at the Abbie Hoffman Died for Your Sins Fest this August. Last night, I had a dream that came to me loud and clear. There's no interpretation necessary. Just describing it says it all:
I was at a family gathering, all my primary relatives living and dead were there. They were in the living room, waiting for me. I entered dressed all in black. Black shoes, black pants, black shirt, a black cape and head piece too. I looked like a mad cossack. A dark monk. A ninja. I announced in a loud and grand voice: "I am the Prisoner!" I bowed and then I started a weird, ritualistic and somewhat stilted dance. I did something with my chakras. I mean, I made some motions with my hands and I passed them over all my chakras as if I was arranging or re-arranging them. I did this for about five minutes. My family looked at me in stunned silence. This was not a planned event.
I finished up and then bowed deeply. I then announced: "I learned this all from Sister Mary Aquanata." Now just a note: Sister Mary Aquanata was my third grade teacher. She was the classic "penguin" a hard-ass nun who more than anyone impressed upon me what the Catholic church was all about. For me it was primarily a revelation that guilt was tatooed on my heart, my soul, and there was no way to erase it, I mean, Jesus was up on that bleeding cross because of my lies, my sins, my impure thoughts...plus since I was left-handed, my loyalties to the devil were already evident.
So, anyway, just before I left the living room, I annouced that I would be back for the next family gathering to perform once more. My father protested, he said, "But there's a basketball game to watch." I replied, "I will perform at half-time!"
SCENE!
By the way, awhile back I discovered this wine at the local Whole Foods. It was the label (pictured above), that clinched it for me. It's a powerful, wonderful wine. I highly recommend it. The first sip and my body was flooded with good feeling. The Lovely Carla and I had a very memorable evening sharing a bottle and watching old episodes of Twin Peaks. Now that's what I call therapy!
