I admit it. I'm bad with dates. I can't even remember what today is, unless I happen to be looking at my page-a-day Far Side calendar. So it should come as no surprise to you that there are dates that I honestly cannot remember. Such as the ones that go along with these dreams. All of them happened on different days, and all of them happened in the summer of 2001. That's all I know. Enjoy!


Plays and Pine Trees
(I’m lucky not to have thrown this one out. I found it written in the white spaces of a magazine insert.)

I was outside Vineyard Church, strolling in the sun. I had just come from a midday Touring with Scissors concert that had been held down by the riverfront. I came across a newsstand and started browsing through it. And-could it be? Yes!-it had a copy of the Guide to Al! (No, there isn’t one in real life.) I looked away for a second and looked back. It was gone. Hmmph.
Well, it was a warm day…a bit TOO warm…so I decided to go cool off in the church. When I got inside, I saw a huge group of people all sitting in a semicircle. I went and sat next to a couple local members of the Stupid Club. We were chatting away when suddenly Al came out of the church office! He started passing out scripts to the front row of people (all kids) and they got up and performed a Nativity play for us. (They were adorable.)
Well, after that most of the people went home, and it was just me, some Stupid folk, and Al. We all went back in the nursery to play a board game. I was losing, because I kept staring at Al. (I couldn’t believe it was really him!) In about half an hour, one of the Stupid gals won (I lost) and we all decided to go back outside and climb a pine tree.
Just as we reached the top, the clock in the courthouse steeple thingy started tolling out the hour. “Aw, man, we gotta go.” “I don’t wanna go home!” Al looked at us, winked, waved his arms, and the tree shot up about fifty feet in the air. At least. “Now we can stay up here forever! Thanks, Al!”

The Fountain of Schwartz

I was hanging out backstage with the guys before a show. Specifically, I was hanging out with Bermuda, talking to him, trying to get his attention. Berm wasn’t listening, however. He was busy drawing a fountain. I finally asked him why he was trying to draw a fountain from memory when there was one in the corner he could draw. He looked up at me, down at the drawing, over at the fountain, back down to the drawing, back up at me, glared at me and got up and walked onstage and started warming up.
Well, since Berm had gone out there, the rest of the guys decided that they should get out there too. As they passed, I told them all “Break a leg!” and they grinned back at me. They all looked pretty much like they did in WAY Live!…except Rubén had male pattern baldness, and the top of his head was completely bare.

Tidal Wave!

I was at a really, really, really horrible party. The music playing was a twisted version of ‘Butt Scootin’ Doggie’, sung by folks that could not sing. I was sitting on a rack of CD cases (on the bottom part, where the cases were shoved aside) and I was watching the crowds amble by. I decided that since I wasn’t having much fun, I should just leave. So I did. I got up and strolled right out of the building to my car.
Or at least I tried to. As I looked into the parking lot, I noticed it was on the beach. And right behind the cars was a big tidal wave, hovering motionless a hundred feet in the air. “Now how am I supposed to drive home with THAT?” I snapped to the only other living things outside. The sandpipers gave me a puzzled look and piped their way away. Since I couldn’t get to my car, I decided to get a room in the hotel across the street for the night. (Of course it would be safe! The tidal wave would just kind of…I dunno…land softly on it, since I was in it.)
I wandered into the lobby, got all checked in, and rode the elevator up to my room. I flung the door open, only to find Al sitting on one of the double beds, watching Cartoon Network. “Al?”
He turned to look at me. “Yeah?”
“How old are you?” I had honestly forgotten.
“Six hundred.” The odd thing is that he was being perfectly serious.
“Oh. Must be the veganism.” He nodded.
I walked in, set down my backpack, and flopped on the bed next to Al. We started talking about stuff-relationships, music, when he was going to get his butt back on tour…eventually we ran out of topics, and I fell asleep on my stomach with my head at the foot of the bed.
When I woke up, I was correctly oriented in the bed and all tucked in. Al had moved to the other bed, so he wouldn’t disturb my nap. He was still watching Cartoon Network. I got out of the bed and looked out the window. The tidal wave had gone.
“Hey Al, we can go home now.”
“Can you give me a lift?”
“Sure!” We walked out of the hotel (now that I think about it, I don’t think he or I ever paid) and out to my car, the Hobo. I cranked the radio and we were off, racing down the highway. It was tuned to Rock 108, the hard rock station that played Dr. Demento. I was singing along with some random hard rock song at the top of my lungs, with Al doing the background vocals, when the song cut off and the announcer started listing the songs in the next set. “And next we’re gonna play…hold on…I know I have a tape of it here somewhere…Megan? You listening?” I bellowed at the radio “Yeah!”
“Can you play that one song? You know…” I knew all right. It was my absolute LEAST favorite song. “No way!” He pleaded. I refused. He asked again. I reached over and hit the Eject button on my tape deck, ejecting the Rock 108 tape from it. (The tape allowed us to hear the radio station. It wasn’t a prerecorded conversation or anything.) I handed it to Al, who tossed it out the window as we went zooming towards California.

My Take On It

Next Dream
Summer Nights
Sometime during Summer 2001