VW Bugs are NOT my thing so why?...

Last night I dreamt that my gram helped me pay off my car to alleviate some debt and money troubles I have been having.

I then promptly turned around and bought a brand new VW bug in jet black with all the extras. (I have always and will always HATE the VW bug, so i don't get it) After driving off the lot, I quickly went from ecstatic to having buyers remorse. It suddently hit. These payments are even more than the ones I had. What was I thinking?

I ran to my grandma's in tears. "Do you think I can return it? I don't want it! What the hell was I thinking? I must be insane. I wonder if someone drugged me?"

My grandma suggested we try to return it. (Ha ha, like this would ever be an option in real life. Do you know how much a car depreciates as you drive it off the car lot? It makes me sick to think about it.)

We go to the dealership and plead with the lady who sold it to me to take it back - take it back. I was hysterical and trying desperately to get out of the massive grave I just dug.

Then I woke up.


KarmelKorn's new product line

Last night I dreamed that I was chatting with the girl working the counter at the Conestoga Mall KarmelKorn Shoppe in Grand Island, Nebraska. KarmelKorn had expanded its product line to include some new, and quite varied, candy-coated items. For example, as I was telling the girl behind the counter what color my aura is (it's a greenish-gold, if you're curious), I was eating a Karmel-coated Apple on a stick, which she had given me.

While we were chatting, a family with a young daughter walked by pushing a hand-truck that carried the new large-screen TV they'd just purchased. The Karmel-Korn girl snuck over, and stuck a Karmel-coated Orange on a stick to the TV Screen, without the family seeing her do it, as a free treat for the little girl. I thought it was nice of her to do that, but wasn't sure they would appreciate all the Karmel she just got on their new TV.

I stood and looked at the other KarmelKorn offerings. There were baked potatoes coated in pink candy applesauce, and whole turkeys basting in some kind of candy-coating. She rang up my Karmel-apple and it came to $11.17. I about spit up Karmel all over the counter, and she said, "Oops, I charged you for two."

But it was supposed to be free. So I asked for my change, and she gave me a long curved white tube that dispensed chocolates - they popped out the end of the tube, and right into your mouth!

I walked away, and entered a new restaurant at the other end of the mall called "The Tum Room." Their mascot was the Pink Panther, and the entire decor consisted of pale blue bathroom tiles - the floors, the walls, the counters, table-tops, everything. There were swinging doors everywhere I looked, with round windows in them, and long buffet lines, all made of blue tile, but containing absolutely no food whatsoever. Finally, realizing I was lost, I called my Grammy.

Then I woke up.



This is a bit of prose I wrote about a dream I had when I was very young. In fact, it may very well be my earliest memory. It was my very first nightmare, and I still remember it vividly to this day.

I have to credit the poet Mark Strand for the structural inspiration.

He sits with his evaporating thoughts,
Holding the pen that might save them.
Shouldn’t have hesitated. It might
Already be too late. He pushes the pen
Into the paper and a green meadow
Creeps onto the page.

Dew hangs heavily on blades of grass,
Sparkling in fragrant morning gold.
I am seated on the cool, damp earth,
Shaded, waiting. The meadow looks warm
And distant.

Two people come running across the meadow.
One carries something white. The other
Is shouting. They stop and drop what they carry
In a barrel, turning toward me. They run back
In the direction they came.

I call out to them. They don’t hear me.

He stops. It’s not right. And there’s more.
He knows these people. He knows what
They were carrying. Why has he hesitated?
He knows what he has to do. It’s simple,
But it’s not getting any easier.
He starts over,

The meadow spreads before me. I wait
Shrouded in sumac, shaded from the golden morning,
Afraid for the people I’ve lost. They are
Running across the meadow, carrying their
Daughter’s soiled diaper. The woman’s breasts
Bounce beneath her red blouse. Her hair
Trails behind her like an auburn vapour.
She is shouting. He is two steps ahead.
They toss the diaper into a barrel and
Turn toward me. I can see their smiles
Through my dewey eyes.
I open my mouth to call to them,
But I make no sound. They run back
The way they came. It is too late.

He takes a breath and thinks. It’s not enough.
It’s too much. He knows what he must do.
He has to get it right. Nothing will happen
If he doesn’t. And he never does.
But he writes

I am waiting at the edge of a meadow
Under a canopy of sumac. The earth is
Hard and cold beneath me. I can’t feel
The sun. I am hidden. I am not… hiding.
My parents are racing across the wet
Carpet of grass. He’s holding my sister’s
Soiled diaper. My mother’s breasts toss
With her long stride. Her hair is thrown back
Like a red cape. She shouts through a laughing mouth.
They stop at the barrel and drop the diaper in.
They look right at me as they turn.
I wonder what they see –
A distant grove of sumac, darkness.
They run back the other way, but
They’re not gone yet. Just very far away.

I make the word in my throat, and push it forward,
Rolling it over my tongue, and forcing it out
Through my lips, “Mom,” so soft,
I almost don’t hear it. They are already gone.

He puts the pen down. It was too late, after all.
He knows what will happen next. That the
Sumac will pull me into the shadows.
That I will be buried. That I will suffocate.
That I could not have saved myself.
And that he was too late.