In Dreams

There are perfectly good dreams. Bad ones too. There are great dreams and nightmares. Night terrors are extremely awful. Most dreams are not memorable in the least.

But, every once in a great while, conditions are right for astounding dreams. Dreams so amazingly wonderful, so perfect that waking is akin to dying. The story arcs so perfect, one couldn't even imagine the genius mind or tender thoughtfulness of the human who could conceive of such wonder (then somehow you realize it’s your mind).

The sights. The sounds. The smells. The lighting. Nuances and even the most minute details of things small and very far in the background are stunning. Ahh, but…

But, above all, the emotions are astonishing! Falling in love, fright or worry is extra-life-like – extraordinary! The feelings of love where the overarching sense of desire and connection; the well being and playful oneness are so complete so intertwined that there are never enough tears or welling.

Loss that feels so absolutely devastating in its desperate separation and finality.

Last night I had one of those dreams. Damn.

I really want to embrace the Washington Nationals. I've followed them through spring training and ten games into the season. Sure, I hate the damn, that everyone is so nutty about them for some faddish reason or another. Sure, my team is LA. The motherfucking Dodgers, right? But, I haven't lived in L.A. for 20 years. I've lived equal my life away from L.A. So, I can pick another team. And, right here in my lap falls a team. A National League baseball team. I had to outlay nothing. No cash, no blood, no sweat.

They look like a baseball team. They even have a couple of known quantity ballplayers. The Nationals!

But, as I sit here watching the Washington Nationals and the Arizona Diamondbacks...I find my attention waning. Diamondbacks v. Nationals. Seriously. I mean, they look like a baseball team. They're playing on a diamond of major league porportions and quality.

If I have to hear "baseball is back" or see one more mope in a "W" hat...

I dunno about this...Go Dodgers?

Babadoo: Hey Whabadoo?

Whabadoo: What is it Babadoo?

Babadoo: I'm tryin' to figures something out.

Whabadoo: What is it Babadoo? Jello?

Babadoo: No, not Jello, but you got a point...flavored cow bones, chick rasslin' in it and shit. Fucking weird. But no, it's the PEDs I'm confused about Whabadoo.

Whabadoo: You mean PEZ Babadoo. Remember that dispenser I had, looked like Nicole Simpson? Not right, huh?

Babadoo: No, PEDs, Performance-Enhancing Drugs Whabadoo.

Whabadoo: What's so confusing 'bout that? It's cheating pure and simple. 'Roids is bad, that's that. Even got a big ass Congressional Probe to put a stop to it. Besides, I hear they shrink your nads. Makes ballplayers RAGE and fight the audience and stuff.

Babadoo: Can't be Whabadoo - Arnold ran for Governor so they can't be all that small. Did you actually say "nads" Whabadoo? "Nads?" What, you gonna use "wuss" next?

Whabadoo: Yeah, that took big nads. You got a point there...wuss!

Babadoo: Besides Whabadoo, I'm not even talking about the 'roids. I'm talking bout Marijuana. Name one great artist, architect, poet, writer or musician who's performance wasn't enhanced by that drug? Shit, we wouldn't even HAVE jazz or tripgrass without it. Were they cheaters Whabadoo? And maybe there should be an asterisk by Van Gogh's name for using opium. That sure enhanced his (or her) performance as a painter. And, what about the old school ballers like Wilt and Bill Walton. John Wooden let Bill Walton smoke up because he knew it let him play better, more fluid.

Whabadoo: An asterisk by his name? Where? What are you going on about Babadoo? Maybe they should call themselves, Phish* or Led Zeppelin* or maybe even William Shakespeare*? How 'bout this: Jesus*! Click this link, Bab.

Babadoo: Or what about the millions of people who take Prozacs who perform better at work and in their relationships because they don't want to die no more? Is that cheatin' Whabadoo? Jimmy didn't beat his wife, but we are forced to put an asterisk by his behavioral performance today.

Whabadoo: You get the point. And then there's Viager - it enhances ole daddy's "performance" from what I can hear - talk about "cheating on your wife." And I take Ginko Biloba and some multi-vitimins and a tramadol or two. And the Egyptians ate lotus flowers, probably did something for them, those fucking cheaters! Let's get a Congressional Probe to see if the Egyptians cheated when they built the pyramids! Should I get a discount because the guys that installed my carpet were a bit high? What about Otto?

Babadoo: Yeah, now you see why I'm confused Whabadoo. Nicole Simpson and pez? That ain't right.

Whabadoo: Maybe...the asterisk can become the new universal symbol for PEDs. That way, we bring all the cheaters out into the open. How 'bout that, Babadoo*?

Whabadoo*: Well? How 'bout that, Babadoo*?

Whabadoo: JEHOVAH!!! YOU IDIOTIC WHORE!!! YOU MAGGOT!!! YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND THIS, DOWN HERE!!! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING, YOU TYRANT!!! YOU DON'T LOVE ME!!! YOU DON'T LOVE ME!!!!! BUT I DON'T CARE, BECAUSE I HATE YOU!!!!!

Babadoo: Whabadoo! Wake up, man! Whabadoo!!

Whabadoo: Huh, wha?!

Babadoo: Whabadoo, you were screaming in your sleep. Something about Jehovah and maggots and tyrants. What were you dreaming about?

Whabadoo: Oh, I was just dreaming that I was reading the newspaper.

Babadoo: Whoa, that's a whopper!