who, why, where and dreams while soupy zooms to “the eighth-electro-plasma-ocean of the ninth dimension”

i woke up this morning after a marathon of business-related dreams.
in each instance, i was negotiating debt with someone across a desk. i woke up a few times, only to go back to sleep and find myself in another office, sitting before another collection agency operative. when i awoke to “officially” start my day, i was already mentally exhausted from all of the talking i did while sleeping.
i wondered if this was a collective dream that part of the american population is having, those who aren’t having the medical problem dreams involving white coats, white walls, squeaky-wheeled gurneys and inability to get into the operating room.
“gee, i don’t know….everytime i’m wheeled into the operating room, the surgeon becomes an actuary and the operating theater becomes an outdoor cafe where some guy named ruben is selling brioche’.”
…..or something.
by the time i was knocking down my first cup of coffee, i was bleary-minded, wanting to go back to sleep after walking the dog. saturday night ran a little late and long for me, not that i was complaining. DUSTIN EDGE/ 28DegreesTaurus, who brought fly upright kite and the vandelles were inside –

meanwhile, crazy and the brains invited Casey Holford, Jason Trachtenburg and the WOWZ to play in the cordoba alligator theater in our backyard.

it was a mix of guitars, voices, vibes, strings, drums, harmonies and some other stuff i can’t recall, weaving inside and outside our doors while early-on the rain pounded the streets and backyard.
i loved the rainy evening.
at one point, i ran upstairs to have a slice of pizza and as luck and the wonders of the eighth-electro-plasma ocean of the ninth dimension would have it, i walked smack into fred and ginger singing and dancing to “isn’t it a lovely day to be caught in the rain?“. needless to say, i sat for a few moments while i thought about how lucky i was to be alive, even with the actuary lawyers and collection mongers haunting my dreams.
which reminds me, somehow. i think i wrote my soupy sales’ obituary around seven months ago here with a few of his shows pieces. just a note if you’re bored……

About stephen trimboli

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