One of my all time favorite song lyrics comes from Built to Spill's 1997 album Perfect from Now On. In "Made Up Dreams," Doug Martsch makes the brilliant observation that "No one wants to hear/what you dreamt about/unless you dreamt about them." Heeding his advice, and in honor of Mike's request that I prepare my annual blog entry, I will not let that stop me, and I will tell you anyway. Because sometimes my dreams are bang-myself-over-the-head easy to interpret, and because I think maybe we should all be aware of the dangers of mixing breakup pain with Tylenol PM.
In my dream, I was taking part (involuntarily) in a live action video game during which I kept being bounced around various islands/worlds, a la Super Mario Galaxy. Try as I might, I kept getting bounced back to a world in which I would land on top of a very tall tower of stools topped off with a small platform. The tower was probably 50 feet high, but stable. I knew there was nothing I could do without getting off the platform, but my only route for escape involved climbing off the platform onto a rickety fire escape that in turn led to a slide. The rest of the trip down would be smooth sailing once I got to the slide, but I knew that as soon as I made a move to get off the platform, the tower of stools would lose its stability. Each time, I did it, and each time I slid down the slide safely. Again, and again, and again. But that moment of fear, that moment stepping off the platform and feeling the whole thing start to fall apart below me.....
I mean, seriously: fuck dreams, man.
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