Dream a little dream
I got a cake the other night for my B-day. Some chocolate, chocolate horror show that was punishing as well as delicious.
Well, around 2.00 AM I was stumbling through my loft, scratching my ass when I spied that chocolate bastard. Four slices later I was in Never Never Land.
Another colossal mistake.
I was in a waiting room, all white, sterile. I was sitting next to this guy who's feet was tapping a jig on the white linoleum. To call him nervous would be like to call an ant tiny. The guy was all nerves and flop sweat.
Good show.
Well, around 2.00 AM I was stumbling through my loft, scratching my ass when I spied that chocolate bastard. Four slices later I was in Never Never Land.
Another colossal mistake.
I was in a waiting room, all white, sterile. I was sitting next to this guy who's feet was tapping a jig on the white linoleum. To call him nervous would be like to call an ant tiny. The guy was all nerves and flop sweat.
"Will Bretton, Will Bretton, you may enter..."
Some other guy I hadn't seen before jumps up and goes out the single white on white door. A smile crossed his face and he became relief.
All this dissappointed my neighbor horribly.
"So, uh man, where are we?" I figure he'd be the one to know.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Where else do you think we'd be?"
"Sorry, I just got here."
"This is the end of the line, dipshit. And I've been sitting here two fucking years waiting to be called."
"Called for what?"
"Just leave me alone man." With that he scurries across the room to another chair.
Time passes.
Time pauses.
"Cathy Rohrbaugh, Cathy Rohrbaugh you may enter."
On and on it goes where people are called, each name a dagger in the heart of my friend.
"Sam Conners, Sam Conners you may enter."
My friend gives a whoop and jumps up. I also jump up because, something about the name Sam Conners resonantes in me.
We both head to the door.
An Orderly stops me. "You may not enter, you are not eligible."
"I'm fucking Sam Conners man, let me in."
"He's Sam Conners, you ain't him."
My friend shoves past both of us and turns and flips me off. "Later mother fucker."
"I'm Sam, come on."
"You ain't Sam, shit you ain't even supposed to be in this room."
"Not my time."
"Not your plane fucko." The sound of the door slamming wakes me up in my loft.
Plane?
Sam Conners, just saying it now makes me pulse. Rog's job is a piano tuner. So he's always carrying around a tuning fork. He showed me how it worked one day, and that's how I feel right now, like a cosmic tuning fork is being held next to my soul.
My name is Sam Conners. I have no memory. I woke up in Pittsburgh.
The TV is on, Quantam Leap is on.
Good show.
Labels:
dreams
0 Response to "Dream a little dream"
Post a Comment