"Dream Lands"

Woke up early this morning, ‘round about 1:30, with thoughts flyin’ through my mind. I’d just had a heck of a dream. What started out as me wanderin’ through the woods took on a distinctive western twist, I was wanderin’ down a trail, that I seemed to know from the past, which sloped steeply down a rugged hillside. The terrain was mostly open, with a few maple and alder trees scattered about, but rocky as all get out. I came to an overhang and gazed out across the green forest below. Fir trees were everywhere and nothing of mankind in sight. A few rocks fell from beneath my feet and bounded on down the mountainside. There was a lone maple tree growing right next to me (funny, I hadn’t noticed it before). How to get down? Reaching into my jacket pocket I pulled out a large roll of elastic banding (hmmm, do I always carry this stuff?). I strapped it around a most convenient branch that hung directly over the slope, grabbed onto it tightly and stepped over the side. I fell rather quickly at first, but slowed down to a nice soft stop about three feet from the ground below. As the elastic tightened back up it lifted me up another couple of feet. Looking over my shoulder, I saw an Indian child hanging by a similar elastic band, not more than twenty five feet away. He was slightly obscured by the foliage of the trees and didn’t seem to notice me.

I let go of the elastic band and continued to follow the trail (must be elastic bands scattered all over the forest by now, that I’ve just never happened to notice before!). The trail started back up the other side, now becoming rutted by wagon wheel marks. Winding in and out of the forest I got to wonderin’, where was my horse? Had my boots, hat, jacket and gloves, but no horse!

Then I wandered into a farm yard, fairly run down and spread out in typical homesteader fashion. An old mexican man was layin’ beside an empty wagon, it was blocked up with a broken wheel. As I walked up to him I noticed he wasn’t moving. He’d had an accident I knew, when I checked for a pulse he opened his eyes and said, "Please, senor, go get my wife." I nodded to him and headed up to the door of the house. A large anxious woman in an apron came to the door wringing her hands, looked at me with concern in her eyes and then glanced over to the sight by the wagon. She gasped and ran out to her man, never sayin’ a word to me nor me to her.

Next thing I know I’m in the house bein’ fed tortillas with her and her two teenage daughters. She’s explaining to me that now they will have no income, except the check one of her daughters gets every month for posing next to an old pickup every month and the other daughter taking a picture (don’t ask, I have no idea….I do know, for some reason, that she posed clothed usually in a tube top and jeans). Now I don’t think her huband died or anything like that, but I had an inklin’ he was busted up and wouldn’t be workin’ for awhile.

Then I’m back on the trail (still no horse) and come up to a ranch house/bar/hotel. I’m suddenly inside, standing next to the door, lookin’ at the clientele within. There’s a wooden card table with three middle aged cowboys smokin’ cigarettes, playin cards and cursing each other and everything in general, in good humor of course. Everyone has a bottle of "Bushmills" in hand (now, I don’t even like "Bushmills", it’s a scotch whiskey and I prefer Kentucky). A kid, probably about twenty-two, is watchin’ the game and also a bit drunk. His bottle is within my reach, so I pick it up and take a healthy swallow. He quickly glares at me, then smiles and takes the bottle out of my hand. "I’ll get cha one," he says, as he starts to stumble over toward the bar (which I sure didn’t see when I first came in!). Next thing I know this kids gettin’ a bit rowdy with one of the old timers, actin’ like he’s gonna pull down on him and I deem it upon myself to escort him out. I throw his arm over my shoulder and guide him outside, givin’ him instructions that he’s not to come back. He looks at me from under a beaten up Stetson with a ridiculously long feather stuck into it’s silver hat band and says I can’t stop him! I reply with the fact that this is my place and I have the authority to stop anyone from comin’ in and, if he doesn’t leave now, I’ll call the cops to come pick him up ( just how the heck did I suddenly become the owner of this place anyway???)

At this point he becomes a miffed old ex-girlfriend of mine and stares at me with complete shock (by now, I think I’m the one shocked!). A cowboy walking a black horse, stops just long enough to mount up and then rides on. Another cowboy outfitted in a tan long coat pedals by on a bicycle pulling a trailer, his coat concealing most of the upper portion of everything and flapping in the breeze.

With nothin’ else of an immediate nature to do…………I woke up. So, Doc, what do ya think?

Laws (Of The Unconscience)
6/17/98

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