Other Places

Last night I dreamt I was bleeding. It was a small cut on my chin that I only noticed as I was looking in my rear view mirror, changing lanes across the Jefferson Street bridge. I was on my way to the mall to pick up a shellacked wooden slug, and an Orange Julius. I'm not sure why I would, even in a dream, purchase something as garish as a carved slug, but I sure was looking forward to that Orange Julius.

Last night I dreamt I was a baseball player. Short stop for the single A Kansas City Mountaineers. I was an unremarkable player on an unremarkable team. We were sponsored by the Lou Thomas Ford dealership, and had that name emblazoned across the backs of our jersey's with, "we provide service, not excuses" right below. Our pitcher was the only guy on the team with any talent -- Some folks said he had enough to make it to the show. Unfortunately, he also had a heroin habit so most people didn't think he'd make it to the end of the season.

Last night I dreamt I could fly. I never actually flew, I was simply aware that at any time, were I so inclined, I could lift effortlessly off the ground and race with the birds that wheeled high above me. Yet I was content to walk down the street as would any other person not gifted with the wondrous ability of flight. I didn't exactly have any emotions one way or another about my gift. I simply didn't feel like flying.