Tuesday, July 28, 2009

One diet Cuba Libra please

One of the things I wanted to do with this blog is share some of the strange dreams I have. I mean why should I be the only one to suffer through these nightly freak shows. I should spread my psychoses with the rest of you . And, maybe, you will start to get an idea of why I am the way I am.

This being said, the topic of this entry is the dream I had last night. Now it is very mild compared to some of the visions I've had. I don't want to scare you too bad right off the bat. I won't shove you into the deep end of my parasomnistic pool. I can barely tread those waters myself.

DREAM #1
I am at the home in which I grew up. A quaint little house in a tiny mountain town. My family is there. We have just had dinner and my Dad is in the kitchen doing the dishes with help from our guest: the late Cuban sonero Ibrahim Ferrer. They are talking about nothing in particular while Dad washes and Don Ferrer is drying. (note: I use the latino term of respect "Don" to refer to Senor Ferrer, but my Dad's given name is also Don.) I am in my bedroom trying to get it ready for Senor Ferrer who will be sleeping there. I will be on the couch in the living room. There is a problem though. Senor Ferrer can't sleep without a pink nightlight in the room. And our nightlight has a blown bulb. My Mom is near panic and I am worried the mini mart, the only store open at this hour in our small town, will not have a replacement bulb.
Then I woke up.

Make of these dreams what you will. I have long ago stopped trying to decipher them. It would may me even more insane.

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