Okay, so... the other night, I had a dream about a friend of ours, Eden Marriott Kennedy Onassis over at Fussy. We're friends from when Will and I lived in Santa Barbara.
We're not like old time drinking buddies, or been through hell and back together kind of friends, but more friends in the general sense.
For instance, Will climbed up a ladder into their home when Eden, Miss Kennedy Onassis if you're nasty (And Janet Jackson means that in a good way, if you're not following me), was accidentally locked out of the place when her husband Jack inadvertently drove off with the keys. And then, I kindly asked her to stop stalking my partner and trying to look up his jeans while he climbs up ladders in front of her.
She was appalled of being accused of such a thing and we pulled each other's hair for like ten minutes.
I'm kidding, of course...
It was more like twelve minutes.
My hair was longer than hers at the time though, so I believe she won.
And for instance, when we'd run into each other, we'd commiserate on the social/political state of our country, or how much should we really write about our families, or how much alcohol we could drink before we got nasty, or how her dogs would charge us or how she had no idea that one of her dogs had smeared shit up her leg.
Oh, she knew... I knew she knew. And she knew I knew.
There was a lot of knowing going on.
She was kind enough to read over one of my one-person plays and give me suggestions without telling me it was complete shit. And I'm still not convinced that I shouldn't just use the whole thing for toilet paper... But, I truly appreciated her efforts and her kindness.
Her husband Jack and I would talk about mid-Century Modern style, and then laugh about mutual "friends" who had too much time on their hands and were causing trouble in the community.
And Jackson, her son, was the coolest kid around. While the other kids in the area seemed to be so afraid of hell that they were raising it, Jackson seemed rather above it all. I think he thought, "I don't believe in hell, so why cause it?" I may be wrong, but it's just the impression I got.
So, you get it. We're "friends". But, we don't even have one another's phone numbers. But still, we're friends... In that realm just past good acquaintances. Someone I would hug, mean it, and genuinely be happy to see. Someone I'm glad I know, but someone that I wish I knew better.
Okay. So, the other night I had a dream about her and thought I should let her know... So, I sent her an email. And I'm going to share it with you now because I just think it's such a logical and inspiring dream.
Hey You,
I hope that this finds you well; in good health and even better spirits! I hope that Jack and Jackson and those awesome dogs are swell too.
It's February now and you guys should come to Cleveland for a visit! After all, February is the best month to be here. HA.
Okay, so I have no idea why I dreamt this, but I did. Last night, in fact. It probably didn't help that we watched "Fight Club" last night right before bed. But anyway, I dreamt we were at your place. And we were sitting around a table and Jackson's art was hanging all over the place. And it was quite good.
Then, at one point, you were hanging from some bars, but you didn't have your head on. I'm not sure what you did with it, but it wasn't "on". THEN, I accidentally (as opposed to "on purpose") had diarrhea on one of your Dining Room chairs. I was quite bothered by this, but was trying to wait for you to leave the room for me to clean it up when you weren't looking.
I don't know how you could've been "looking" when you weren't wearing your head, but still. You were there, hanging from those bars and I just needed to wait.
So, I was all set to clean it up the minute you walked out of the room, or SWUNG out of the room, but one of Jackson's fantastic pieces of art caught my eye and I felt compelled to look closer. So, I got up. It was then that Jack came in and sat in my diarrhea. But, he was a total gentleman and didn't say a word about it. He cleaned it up with a napkin and I just pretended like I had no idea what was going on. I think I pretended it was his. I just kept looking at Jackson's art work. And I can't remember if you ever put your head back on.
Sending you best regards. And hope to see you one of these years.
Sincerely,
Kevin
p.s. Sorry about the diarrhea.
Her reply was kind and funny. I have a feeling that the dream surprised her as much as it did me. But, I can't help thinking that after that email, she's probably glad she doesn't know me better... And she'll probably never let me sit down in one of their chairs. I know after that, I wouldn't want me to.
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