Blue’s Journal of Jacked-Up Dreams: More Tornadoes, a Fiery SUV, and the Dress Rehearsal That Is My Life
Picture me asleep. Take a little astral projection walk, right into my brain. This is the jacked up pre-dawn dream that started my day:
It’s another crazy tornado dream. I get separated from Mo and Ry, and the sirens start going off, and I go down into the carpeted, florescent-lit, furnished basement of a building in some upscale, futuristic downtown Louisville. I’m not scared this time, though. I’m looking out the window (I’m still somehow above ground, maybe 4th story, despite being “in the basement”). A charcoal gray bank of storm cloud stretches over the city skyline, like a dramatic watercolor-and-charcoal drawing, and dozens of small funnel clouds are sprouting from the underside of the cloud bank, only a few stories above my eye level. They’re descending from the bank, spinning, moving, receding, forming, spinning, scattering into mist. It’s profoundly beautiful. I can’t see any that have actually formed and touched down. The skyscape is sizzling with crazy vibrant nature energy, all black and white and wet. There’s a man beside me, also looking out the window. He’s a thick man, wearing a light blue button down shirt and a purple tie. Suddenly we see an SUV on the roof of the building next to us explode and go up in flames. The driver of the car is crouching, taking cover away from the blaze. The flames are gorgeous against the grey dark of the sky.
Then I’m reunited with Mo and Ry. We’re in a room in another building. It turns out this is not my actual life, just a play, and I’m not even actually in the play. I’m just a musician in the band. It’s a small-scale, alternative play with a Middle Eastern theme. I’m playing some kind of long, thin recorder. We finish a song and the small audience applauds. I see a fellow artist from my community, Chen, in the audience. She’s strikingly beautiful and solidly familiar, the features of her face, the color and cut of her hair, the style of her clothes, so incredibly detailed and sharp and accurate. I say to her, “that is the strangest dress rehearsal I’ve ever been in.”
Then I hear Willie Nelson. “Lonely nights I cannot sleep, I just lie awake and weep…” It’s my alarm. I’m awake. It’s time to get up.
Go here to see what happens next.