GoCatDave

I was in a house or an apartment. It might have belonged to my Dad. The floor was sand like at a beach. There were holes in the sand which seemed to be nests for snakes or insects or something. I was filling some of them up by moving sand around with my foot. My Dad asked if I could have it done by the time of some party he was planning. I said that I would try but that I wasn’t sure because it takes time.

Then things changed so that I was no longer working on a sandy floor, but instead working on a bed or mattress, filling in dips and holes in the mattress. At one point our late dog Elvis was in one of the holes as I was moving pillows around and he came out.

Then I was in Alaska on the road and I was running into travelers. Somebody was traveling with a bunch of young women who may have been prostitutes. I met a couple travelers who were headed to Oklahoma. They said they had begun their journey in Pennsylvania. I replied that they were really taking the long way. They said that they really wanted to visit Alaska.

The scene changed. I might have still been in Alaska but I was at music club and I had been given an upright bass. I was just starting to fool around with it. There were two guys, one of whom had a beginner’s music book. They kept telling me to play different simple 3 note songs. At first I went along with it. But then I moved the upright bass over a divider into a corner of the room. As I moved the bass I made a joke to a man that was sitting close by that I hope I didn’t stick him in the privates with the stick-like stand that protrudes from the bottom of the bass.

I began to play a David Lynch-type jazz scale. I was kind of managing to play that. Then Peg said that when I hit certain notes it hurt her feet or her knee. She was sitting close to the bass and it may have been bumping into her. But I said that I needed to hit those notes and asked her to be patient with me.

So, I was playing that Lynchian piece and I had my hand high up on the neck of the bass and there were snakes up in the corner of the room and they began biting both of my arms repeatedly. I was okay, though. I posed for a photo for Peg, showing off the bites, because we thought it would look cool. Then she moved out of the way so a man from the press could take a photo.

This dream was very creativity oriented. Felicia Day was visiting at a house/apartment where Peg and I lived. I asked her if she could recommend any good new video games to play. I mentioned that Peg was becoming bored with World of Warcraft. Felicia answered, “Oh anything.” Which I did not find helpful and which made me feel less connected with her, like she was aloof. The three of us were sitting on a big white couch watching something on TV. I was sitting in the middle. At one point Felicia re-positioned herself so that her head was resting on my knee. This made me feel more connected with her. But I was concerned that Peg would thing she was being overly familiar with her husband.

Felicia shared that she had been feeling creatively blocked. I suggested that she tear up slips of paper, write down names of things on half of them and musical styles on the other half. Then pick one slip randomly from each half. This would produce results like ketchup and reggae. Then she should go and make herself write a song about ketchup in a reggae style.

I think she liked the idea. I started considering using the idea myself. Then I was experimenting with art techniques like using static electricity to create patterns of strands of hair or fabric on a canvas. And I was walking through an art gallery where the paintings were large soft pastel-ish caricatures of rock musicians and I was thinking about doing a painting in a similar style.