Editing the Dream

The dream was going along as dreams do, dreamily; but I decided to edit it.

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“Wait, America; I can’t quite hear you.”

Actually, that dream did not include the dude pictured above, cosmically connecting with the pillow guy, trying to get a connection with Don, Don Junior, Carlson or any other Tucker, Tucker’s mother, any Karen willing to take his call. Little Don already, obviously, has a connection, others are… shit, I don’t know… he is on my don’t call, stay the fuck out of my dreams list.

But another dream did, ending, after some editing, after Trish and I (both of us obviously younger), following (more like chasing) her (late) father through some sort of town setting. We go into a bar (maybe), he orders a plain cup of coffee. “Fifty cents,” the guy behind the bar says, “Fifty-five with tax.” I, at Trisha’s urging, shove my father-in-law (gently) down the way. The bartender says, “Five dollars,” then says, “Ten dollars; eleven with the tax.” “Oh,” I say, placing fifteen bucks (a ten and a five) on the bar, “If I can also get the…” looking the other way (away from Trisha’s dad) “The paper.” “Sure thing,” the bartender says. Just then Rudy Guliani (sp? like I care), in a nice brown suit, grabs the paper. “Wait,” I say, “That paper’s paid for.” Rudy just smiles, folds the paper, sticks it under his arm, says, “Yeah; someone paid for it.”

Okay, that was just unacceptable. So, staying asleep, or partially, I went back, deleted Rudy, replaced him with Arnold Schwartzisnamer (sp? again, don’t care), who still kept the paper, but was nicer about it. AND THEN, just to add some drama…

SO, HERE’S WHERE I AM ON “SWAMIS:” I am fourteen pages from the last ending, BUT, because I’ve made so many changes in the manuscript, the exciting conclusion, despite my deletions and additions, keeps staying just that tantalizingly close to completion.

STRAIT SURF UPDATE: NO surf, but Rippin’ Reggie Roy (Reggie’s preferred nickname) reported seeing two guys with soft tops (I’m sure he meant surfboards) and a guy in a white Roxy wetsuit splashing about in waves so small he said “Even you wouldn’t try to surf them.” FORECAST: More of the same, with occasional rumors.

OKAY, I have to go. I’ll edit this… later.

LATER…

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