Ravel's Tzigane at 5:22 AM...
Nah, I shouldn't say that... The concept isn't violent, just strange.
For two nights in a row, I have had dreams involving a red S-10 Blazer. I'm pretty sure it's a two-door, and it's the older bodystyle from back when they were all square with the seal-beam headlights, probably around a '91 or 92, I think.
Night before last, I dreamed I was walking back from the post office and my brother picked me up in it; I don't know why, but I ended up sitting backwards with my knees against the passenger seat and my ass against the dash, and I was trying my best to avoid getting sick.
Last night, I dreamed I was sitting in some kind of a class (listening to an instructor and eating an ice cream sandwich) when my phone rang; only it wasn't my ring, it was Anne calling my name, and when I answered, she was calling to tell me that I had a second chance at taking a Lab quiz. I miss her so much and I was so glad to hear from her that I wasn't even sure if I gave a damn about the quiz. I picked up my stuff and left the class I was in and headed out to the car as I was talking to Anne on the phone, and when I got to the car to drive away, that's what it was, a red S-10 Blazer -- and I started it up and drove away.
I drove it through some kind of automatic car wash type of thing, and that's when I woke up needin' to pee.
When I got back to bed, I just could not get back to sleep.
I usually don't look at the clock at all until my alarm goes off, but since there's been a time or two before that I couldn't go back to sleep until after the alarm, after a little tossin' & turnin', I figured I'd check the time just to see if that would help. It was 5:22 AM, a full two hours and thirteen minutes before my "third last chance" alarm. Even after I knew I had more than two hours, I still couldn't go back to sleep.
I guess the nice part is that I wasn't stressed or anxious about it, I just fished out my iPod, put on some Classical, and said a little prayer for my long-ago friend Anne. And her husband. And their little boy. Wow, how old would he be now??
I don't really remember how we got out of touch; I know I wasn't mad about anything and I don't think she was either -- we just both got busy and got away from each other. In PTA School, we were usually busy with the same stuff at the same time, and she was a real bright spot for me when school was headed South in the proverbial handbasket. After graduation, she went on to work and I went on to racing the Outlaw Stock and running the construction company and selling a few parts; all while trying valiantly to prove to my parents that I had not wasted my time in school and I was not a total failure.
I still don't think it was a case of "I'm not cut out for this," but more of a case of "I'm not cut out to fit into this particular mold." Even though I didn't make it outta there with my degree, I still learned a lot about people (professors and peers) and how some of 'em work. I learned about "Fitting In," mainly that even if I don't fit in with those people, there are people out there who will let me in, and I don't have to feel like I'm standing on the outer edge of it all, just out there alone. Looking back, there were several times when Anne was my "way in," and when I wasn't makin' it on my own, she'd just grab my arm and take me with her. I'll never forget turnin' twenty-two with her in Arkansas at the Tattoo shop, or hangin' out with her and her mom after my first night in the race car. When I got my "kick to the curb" from the program director, it was Anne who told me, "Well hell, go back to sellin' parts, at least you're good at it." The night before David's funeral, I still wasn't sleeping and I spent most of the night sittin' on the bathroom rug talkin' on the phone with Anne.
I'd love to run into her somewhere -- I bet she'd really dig Clayton...
And surely I'll end up finding her before I end up finding a damn red S-10 Blazer.
More later. _\,,/