Tonight I had a dream, and like every dream, there was very little sense to be made from it..sort of like your average blog…sort of like this blog. I call it the Dream of the Interlopers.
So I am living on a farm again, and am surrounded by extended family and a vaster network of friends, in day-to-day life, and especially on this night, because it is some sort of night of celebration. Live bands are playing at each of the (very large) farms playing in our “sector”, or area. Our flocks farm is playing a traditional sort of polka bluegrass combo, and the neighbors farm has somehow booked the band “Rush”, I here Freewill, a tune I love by the nearby farm from a distance so I head over there…it must be a half mile away but you know dreams, I am there in the blink of an eye or two.
I am surrounded by people I consider my brothers and sisters, some actually are. Between songs, political candidates come on stage to say their quick shpeels. Usually its a my god bigger than your god style, “I stand for platitudes and generalities, a vague sense a better…perhaps”…and on and on. Well I party hop, not being able to fix myself at one party all night…and I notice every local party has these political interlopers, different ones, saying similar vague things, being mostly rejected by the crowds that gather round them, revered by naive younger party going brethren in small numbered circiles with cult-like adorration.. In jumping from party to party all night, I begin to see a sort of mosaic appear in my mind…some similarities in the interlopers style and even substance, or lack thereof. I go someplace to voice my concerns, and wake up, dream interrupted by 90 degree, 90 percent humid, non air-conditioned air. Now being dehydrated, physically feeling beat down from a rough day prior, the only parallel to this life and this reality I can draw from this dream is what I saw when I went to Tea Parties, of various sizes, over the past 18 months.
The political interlopers, Republicans who announce they have come to fill the vacuous void you want to leave in Congress by casting out the Cave-man-ism ideologue from the other party, replacing it with the Reptillianist standing in front of you, hoping you don’t notice that he has no skin but scales, like a fish, or a lizard, or a chickens bursted gizzard.
So that’s it. Glass on the moon is a structural material, here, it is not. And I am going to attempt to fall asleep again, as dehydrated and paranoid as I am right now. A storm looms via radar, but I am one tried soul, cometh the rain, forth I amith so tired…ith…hot-ith…ect-ith. Lets those rains pour down on me.