Why not kick off Wednesday with a little Power Pop and get this train
rolling? I'm feeling surprisingly human today after actually getting a decent
night's sleep. Of course, my brain has apparently decided to use all that extra
rest to produce some truly bizarre dream programming over the last few days.
The
party games started the other night when I dreamed I was back with a couple of
my old grade-school schoolmates who bullied me. We were running in line
somewhere and were way behind everybody else. When we caught up, we were
directed to crawl under a building to do foundation work. As if this is
something you do as an adult with childhood bullies. As if that wasn't weird
enough, one of them and I were having a perfectly normal conversation about a
supervisor whose primary management technique was yelling "Holy
Balls!" at regular intervals.
I'm not much of a dream interpreter, but I did recently see a picture of
one of those bullies. Back in school he was one of the popular kids who looked
destined for greatness. Now, based on what I saw, his job seems pretty
ordinary. Then again, who am I to critique anybody's career choices? I spend a
non-zero percentage of my free time sorting old 45s and debating whether a
pressing variation is worth an extra five bucks.
The foundation work part probably came from last year when I spent
quality time crawling under our house pulling out debris before getting it
encapsulated. And the "Holy Balls!" guy? That likely came from my old
high school football coach, who treated that phrase as both punctuation and
a management philosophy whenever things weren't going according to his carefully crafted plans.
Whether
it's a profound message about life, a warning about unfinished business, or
simply my brain cleaning out its junk drawer, I have no idea. My subconscious
apparently operates like a late-night DJ, taking requests from old bullies, a
house encapsulation project, and a football coach shouting "Holy
Balls!" and decided those tracks belonged on the same compilation album. I
can't explain it, but I'd probably buy the record.
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