Dreamland

Yesterday's blog today! After writing a blog yesterday that was nominated for a Bob Pulitzer, a Grammy and a Grampy, I watched helplessly as our Internet connection failed and the blog drifted off in Space. Dismayed, discouraged and just plain dissed, I considered all the usual options, rope, poison, shotgun and a drop from a tall place, but as this is my only computer, I let it lie and took my dog for a walk.

Here then is roughly what I wrote yesterday:

I dreamed last night that I was at a high school basketball practise where a bunch of kids, one of my sons included, were shooting around. Two college scouts, both women, both stout came into the building and I called my son over so I could introduce him to the scouts. "This" I said, "is the best point guard in the state." The scouts asked him two questions. The first was "how old are you?" to which he replied "31" and the second was, "what toothpaste do you use?" Dreams can be like that.

I recently read a theory that stated dreams are the mind's attempt to put in some sort of order what had passed through it during the day. I had thought of my son during the day but not specifically separate from all my kids and I'm sure that basketball had nary a moment of my mind's attention. If the dream had produced football, Selma Hayak and The Mills Brothers singing "You Always Hurt The One You Love" I might be inclined to give the theory a bit more credence. Or I might not. I'm pretty stingy with my credence. Give away too much credence and pretty soon you don't have any at all. Dreams are, to my way of thinking - and this is not a theory because you know you can always go to Monkeymind for the honest truth instead of the other kind and also for the answers to the great questions of the Universe and even some of its small ones like does a bear shit in Tiger Woods? and are Brittany Spears sharper than the French ones? - simply the world's best Home Entertainment Center. Movies, music, sports and something interesting with Cherries Jubilee and the hunk or hunkess of your choice are all available and what's more is that YOU get to be the star! Eat your heart out HBO. All that's really required is that you master the Remote Control, a thing I can do with my eyes closed. Actually that part is kind of necessary. Once you get this down, you can jump from dream station to dream station and your boss will never appear except in episodes involving the Marquis De Sade, Hannibal Lector and Roseanne Barr. My advice is don't delay. Put your order in now. For $19.95 or its equivelent in cheese sent to P.O. Box Around The Clock you get absolutely everything! Refunds are small and highly unlikely.

As for me, it's back to bed. I've got to hear the answer to that toothpaste question. I think the kid's a Colgate man, but what-the-heck we're talking dreams here. He might be using Guiness. At least I hope so.