A Smattering Of Dreams

Once upon a dream I awoke with the following words on my mind’s tongue: “You can’t have no room in my dream.” Quickly — as to not lose this phrase to the mists of human mind fog that shrouds our waking thoughts — I found as fast as I could a pen and paper to jot it down.

“You can’t have no room in my dream!”
These words I once did scream
Awakening from deep sleep
As my spirit gently creeped.
“The rooms are filled,” said I,
With quite a snide reply
“No vacancies I see
The rooms are filled with me.”

Later I put these words to music, as demonstrated in this ancient recording by yours truly, circa early 90’s.

Listen here

*  *  *

I’m reading the morning newspaper. The headline reads: “10,000 Converted Today!” Tens of thousands of people were converting each day to this new religious cult. Fanatic cult members would come to my house in droves, with smiles on their clean-cut faces, gazing at me through glazed, hypnotized eyes, trying to sell me their brainwashed religion lest I burn in the Devil’s embers down below. But I wasn’t buying into their scam, and I knew if I left myself open to them I would become just another of these mindless lambs being led to a slaughter.

Myself and a buddy, Frankie, were among the last few of society’s “unconverted outcasts.” We looked hopelessly into each other’s eyes, shrugging our shoulders and shaking our heads, knowing full well that the jig was up. Then in the distance we heard the bomb blast and saw the mushroom cloud rising like a gigantic hand of doom to crush us all down with one fatal blow. There was no happy ending to the story (dream)…

In another ominous dream, I found myself in my old neighborhood. I stopped to look into a large stained-glass magnifying lens that had been placed on a neighbor’s lawn in such a manner that it pointed at an angle into the sky. When I looked through this magnifying glass, I became instantly hallucinogenically intoxicated, the magnifying lens sucking me into some altered state of consciousness, enabling me to see into another dimension inhabited by an evil being with a long strange face and a tall, purple top hat, dressed in colorful clothing who drove through the sky against a psychedelic swirling backdrop in a surreal space age version of the car Fred McMurray piloted in Chitti-Chitti-Bang-Bang. No one else — of the nameless, faceless people present — who looked through this stained-glass magnifying lens could see what I saw; that of an evil phantasmagoric menace, invisible to the naked eye, yet nonetheless there, plotting to wreak havoc upon our fragile human race from behind the scenes of an alternate dimension…

Then there were the dreams where I was flying. It came so easily and naturally, I’d soar through the valleys and across the mountains of my mind, saying to myself, “Good God, this is real, this is really real, I’m actually flying. This is not a dream!” Then I’d wake up and be bummed out because it had only been a dream, and I couldn’t really fly, after all. Normally in these dreams I’d fly around my neighborhood, and sometimes — reaching a higher elevation — I’d fly over towns and cities. One time while flying higher, ever higher, I decided to keep on going up through the stratosphere into the farthest reaches of space. Soon I found myself soaring through the heavens surrounded by beautiful stars burning fuchsia bright against a purple and scarlet backdrop wove in Heaven. It’s probably the closest to Heaven I’ll ever get again.

Another truly cosmic dream featured a comet that fell down from the sky and crashed into Earth, exploding in a starburst blaze of brilliant, blinding colors. I ran over to the comet, picked it up, and held it in my astounded hands. It miraculously began changing and rearranging, transmuting in psychedelic colors before my eyes into alien faces of multiple races from a thousand dreams and one hundred and one nightmares. I carried this magical metaphor/meteor with me all throughout this very memorable dream…

*   *   *


I had a dream after she died.
I was at work, (or some odd place)
Going through the various rituals,
That go along with living.
Perhaps eating my lunch,
Or performing some menial chore.
As I was carrying out my duties,
The phone rang.
Someone answered it, and said,
“Hey, Adam, it’s for you.”
“Hello,” I said, and the disembodied
Voice on the other end said,
“Adam, this is your Aunt Daisy.
I’ve just called to say goodbye.”
Before I could answer,
The dial tone came on.


*  *  *

Then there were a series of dreams I had featuring celebrities. The first of these starred none other than Soupy Sales, that pie-throwing maniac who used to host a TV kiddy program I watched growing up. Soupy later appeared on “The Gong Show” and other Hollywood has-been-type game shows like ”The Match Game” with Gene Rayburn, and “Hollywood Squares.”

Anyway, Soupy and I were in England for some dumb reason, hanging out together. Unfortunately we ended up in a grocery store where the aisles were jam-packed with corpulent older ladies, diabolically surrounding us on either side, leaving us trapped and immobile in the aisles with no way out. Later on in this dim-witted caper, Soupy and I were cruising around the streets of London-town when we experienced automotive difficulties. We took our motorcar to an auto shop where the mechanic used a visual aid to explain what’d gone wrong with the car. He had a styrofoam cup of soda and with a straw poked several holes on either side of the cup in vertical lines so that the liquid came gushing out in symmetrical streams. For some reason, that seemed to make perfect sense. Anyway, I wrote a poem at the time about my road trip with Soupy, although unfortunately I only remember a couple of stanzas:

Gee, Soupy Sales
You’re such a funny guy
You know I tell the truth
How could I tell a lie?

Our merry trip to London
Was such a bloody groove
But the ladies in the grocery store
Just would let us move…

But the most lucid dream I had featuring a celebrity type was with John Lennon. We sat in a cabin in the mountains at a table facing one another. He looked a lot like he does in that picture from the White Album. You know, those eight by ten glossies they had inside of each of the Fab Four?

It seemed as if we talked for hours on end in this dream, although I remember not of what, except that it was a very heavy discussion, which of course is to be expected from the dead spirit of such a heavy dude as he. I wonder sometimes if it actually was Lennon’s departed spirit to whom I was conversing. Wondering, as well, what the words were that he shared with me…

Scott Apel wrote a book a few years back about one of my favorite authors, Philip K. Dick. It seems that Mr. Apel experienced his own strange series of dreams where Dick visited him, passing on to Apel certain mystical messages much in the same fashion that Dick — in his own lifetime — received: DIVINE REVELATIONS from another dimension in the form of hypnogogic dreams, not to mention the pink laser beam that shot EVERLASTING WISDOM into his brain, transferring gnostic knowledge unto him via VALIS (Vast Active Living Intelligence System).

I don’t discount Apel’s claims. Quite the contrary, in fact. I believe the same thing possibly happened to me re: John Lennon; his departed spirit floating through the astral plane entering into my sleeping brain and transmitting certain esoteric knowledge which at this juncture in space-time I can’t remember, though perhaps — just perhaps — hypnotic dream regression could possibly retrieve this stuff from my subconscious shadows.


*  *  *

One hot summer night whilst living with my parents in suburbia, I decided to sleep outside, where it would be cooler and more pleasurable. Big mistake, the aliens were out to get me!

Let me set the stage: with my favorite blanket, I lay down to sleep in my backyard on a chaise-lounge, gazing up into night sky above. Soon I was sound asleep, and shortly had entered into the misty realms of dreamland weirdness. But unlike other dreams, where the world you often enter into is a combo of this or that, a little bit of maybe your friend’s house interspersed with maybe a little bit of your own house inhabited by people you know, or may not know, doing this or that; ah no, this dream was lucid and distinct. (Or was I dreaming?)

Within the dream everything was exactly as it was before I fell to sleep; not one thing out of place. And I was exactly where I had left my sleeping body; on the chaise-lounge with my favorite blanket covering me, facing in the exact same direction; everything exactly the same, nothing different or out of place. But then things got a little weird…

As I gazed into the stars above me, there suddenly appeared a huge UFO. The UFO, moving at a very low rate of speed, appeared out of east, and seemed to be coming towards me, slowly lowering. It was spectacular, much like the ‘real’ UFOs I had seen with my friend Joe Hook as chronicled in my tome, UFO’s, LSD and Me. And though it was a huge wondrous brilliant multicolored creation of some far superior race, I also picked up malevolent vibes off the thing, and I was starting to get scared, when I felt somebody tap me on the shoulder. I jerked to my right side to see who or what was there, and the jerking motion woke me up, as I was facing to my right side to see what the fuck had tapped me on the shoulder. But nothing was there.

And the UFO was gone!

It took me awhile to get back to sleep.

*  *  *

I had a dream last night I was inside the Hollow Earth… There were no televisions there, and the helicopters had no rotor blades.

Such is the stuff of dreams!

~ by gorightly on November 20, 2010.

One Response to “A Smattering Of Dreams”

  1. youre smart

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