Dreams of Airport Security

I dreamed that I saw this marvelous ultra-modern airplane flying over New York City. It was a totally new design, like nothing I had ever seen. The fuselage was fat and round and somewhat stubby, and it’s wings were almost like bi-plane wings except that they went completely front to back and were curved and joined at the ends, so that when viewed from front or back the outline appeared to make an oval shape, with the fuselage being another circle within. The plane had two rocket-like conical engines on the back. As I watched it go overhead some other person in my dream commented that this was the new “shuttle” from LA to New York, which made the trip in just under an hour. Then, as it neared the airport I saw it do an unusual maneuver, a sort of “loop-de-loop”.

As dreams often do, I was suddenly transported to an impossible location relative to the previous scene. I was in what seemed to be a portion of the plane, removed from the whole and sitting in a wooded area. There were maybe a dozen other passengers, all sitting in their seats looking as confused as I was. Suddenly a man in black army fatigues and an automatic rifle appeared at the door. Then, on either side of him 2 female “flight attendants” seemed to “inflate” from out of nowhere. The flight attendants just smiled and stood there as the man instructed us all to calmly and orderly disembark from the plane.

Once outside we appeared to be near the airport. More guards were outside shouting orders at us. We were made to jog, single file, towards and into a building, where we were lined up against a wall and padded down. Someone next to me whispered that he thought that maybe all this was because of the conversation he overheard another person having on his cell phone about a gun.

Then we were each individually interrogated by a very large and aggressive man, though his questions were completely mundane; our names, where we were from, where we were going, and things of that nature. Finally we were all herded out to a roof area, and allowed to just wait around and somewhat mingle under the watchful eyes of several more guards. From a passing car we overheard a radio report that airport security drills were currently being conducted. As I looked out over the tarmac I could see similar scenes to what had just taken place being acted out around the airport, and I heard “drill instructors” shouting at the guards to act fearsomely.

I became extremely irritated to be being treated in this manner as a training exercise, and I voiced my complaint to an official looking man that was standing with the guards. He was most arrogant and jabbed me with pointed fingers exclaiming that I had no right to question their authority or their actions. I pointed out that I should have some rights, considering that I had PAID for a ticket on the flight. Finally the dream ended with me urging the other detained passengers to demand free first class vouchers to anywhere the airline flies.

I am still trying to figure out what this one means. I did have pizza at midnight before having this dream. I guess it must be relevant to something.

My Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future

It’s the holiday gift-giving season, and this year seems somehow to be special, at least for me. Where as, in the past, I had always found myself to be somewhat of a Scrooge, this year I have gone to some lengths to produce special gifts for several of my friends, and I seem to have, on at least some level, embraced the “spirit” of the holiday. Although this change in me is somewhat remarkable, it is also quite subtle, but by no means is it fully encompassing of the traditions of the season (Christmas music still makes me feel violent). It is however a reflection of some positive changes.

In past years my distain was for the rampant commercialism surrounding the whole gift-giving tradition. “This Christmas, show her how much you really love her…buy her a diamond.” Your family deserves the new 52” plasma TV with ambi-light in their home!” “Buy your loved one the new Jaguar.” Yeah, right. If I actually had the means to afford such extravagant gifts, the last thing I would do is spend it on crap like that. But the fact is, I don’t have anything like that kind of money, and in fact I have had so little money that throughout the years I would find endless imaginative ways to withdraw from the holiday completely in order to avoid the embarrassment of not being able to afford to buy any gifts. I dreaded receiving gifts too, because it made me feel like I owed a debt I could not repay, being that I was unable (or just unwilling) to reciprocate.

But this year is different. Although I still don’t have any money I have been giving gifts. I spent dozens of late night hours making custom compilation mix CDs of great music to share with my friends. I’ve even given out some copies of my own music. I’ve tailor made several collections. Many of my friends receiving these gifts were indeed very pleased, and seemed to appreciate the personal attention that went into producing them.

What has sparked this change in me is no doubt my shift, over the past couple of years, from a distant, distracted, and thoroughly spaced out dope head to a thoughtful and lucid contributing member of my social circles. Several dear friends have commented on their perception of this change. And as if through some covert conspiracy, for gifts this year, almost every one of my closest friends gave me books to read. So many, in fact, that I will no doubt still be reading them come next Christmas.

To she who said I look like him:

YOU

You came—
determined,
because I was large,
because I was roaring,
but on close inspection
you saw a mere boy.
You seized
and snatched away my heart
and began
to play with it—
like a girl with a bouncing ball.

WHAT HAPPENED

More than possible,
more than necessary-
as though
in sleep sagging down in poetic delirium-
the lump of the heart has grown huge in bulk:
that bulk is love,
that bulk is hate.
Under the burden
my legs
walked shakily-
as you know,
I am
well built-
and yet,
an appendage of the heart, I dragged myself about,
hunching the vast width of my shoulders.

AND NOW

The sea goes to weep.
The sea goes to sleep.
As they say,
the incident has petered out.
The love boat of life
has crashed on philistine reefs
You and I
are quits.
No need to reiterate
mutual injuries,
troubles
and griefs.


(Excerpts from the writings of Mayakovski)