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What I Must Really Think of My Friends (and Killer Kowalski)

Posted by: Scott    Tags:  dreams    Posted date:  October 22, 2010  |  No comment


I woke to a dream this morning that was far too interesting to fit into 140 characters as were all the other dreams I’ve been tweeting these many months, and so I waited until now to tell it to you.

I was in a small hotel ballroom, occupied by no more than 50 people. Into the room, one at a time, came modern day professional wrestlers, and the crowd made much of them, cheering, taking pictures, getting autographs. But then came Killer Kowalski, an old-school wrestler, and he was ignored. (In real life, of course, when alive, he would have ben as mobbed as anyone.)

I thought this was a shame, so I went over to him, and starting telling him about my grandfather the bookie (yes, he was one) and held out my camera for someone to take a picture of the two of us.

Suddenly, there was Friend A, who will go unnamed for reasons which will soon become clear. I asked him to snap a picture, and he tried and failed repeatedly. The first shot had microphones blocking our faces, the next, stanchions. Then, we were out of focus. Again and again he tried, but whatever he did, he failed. He was too inept to successfully take a picture of me and Killer.

So I took the camera away and handed it to Friend B, who also appeared as if by magic. I put my arm around Killer’s shoulders; he did the same to me. And this second friend holding the camera turned thoughtful, and scratched his chin, and moved from one part of the room to another, trying to get a good angle. He asked us to turn this way and that, which Killer took in good humor, but I could tell he was growing frustrated.

I said, “Just take the damn picture” to Friend B, but no, he was so finicky that he never snapped a single shot, just rehearsed for them, planned for them, considered them, rejecting chance after chance.

And that’s how I woke, repeating again and again, “Just take the damn picture! Take it! Take the damn picture!”

So that is what my subconscious is telling me I must REALLY think of these two friends. One is inept, and the other finicky.

And both shall remain nameless.





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