Thursday, November 09, 2006

Dreams can really mess you up...

...as I've been finding throughout this day.

From time to time, I have had to endure flashbacks of last night's most unpleasant nocturnal escapade. You'd think a rational person could shrug it off as "just a dream," and therefore meaningless.

I thought I'd be able to do that. Never mind that the voice of the person standing there looking at the ex-me -- and her face and garb -- were drawn straight from real life. What the hell, a dream is only a dream and means nothing, right?

She wouldn't get any pleasure from my death...or would she?

And those others...no one on this planet would be happier if I no longer existed. Or would they?

A small event this afternoon, which I cannot describe in terms that would make any sense, was entirely too coincidental for my taste. It would have reawakened bad memories in any case; with last night's unpleasantness added, it assumed importance far beyond what it would otherwise have had.

If, like the late, great Mr Lincoln, I was given a glance into the future, so be it.

Should the end come tonight, I will face it with Sinatra blasting from my speakers and a belly-full of my favorite single-malt.

And if a particular person gets some pleasure from knowing I'm gone, I'll take that as a positive; after all, I wanted to make her happy.

But I'm quite certain I'll be around tomorrow. After all, I haven't yet suffered all the pain and indignity one can suffer....

A PARENTHETICAL UPDATE: I know I posted these lyrics back in May, but they have equal impact in November. And if my story is indeed drawing to an end, I want to give the esteemed Mr Sinatra credit for having sustained me on many a dark night.

In my very, very brief career laying down tunes on a B3 in a dingy bar, this was a favorite....

You'll always be The Man, Frank.

It's quarter to three
There's no one in the place, 'cept you and me
So set 'em up, Joe
I've got a little story, I think you should know
We're drinking, my friend
To the end, of a brief episode
Make it one for my baby
And one more for the road.

I got the routine
Put another nickel, in the machine
Feelin' so bad
Can't you make the music easy and sad
I could tell you a lot
But you've got to be, true to your code
Just make it one, for my baby
And one more for the road.

You'd never know it
But buddy, I'm a kind of poet
And I got a lotta things I'd like to say
And when I'm gloomy
Won't you listen to me
'til it's talked away.

Well, that's how it goes
And Joe, I know you're gettin', anxious to close
And thanks for the cheer
I hope you didn't mind my bendin' your ear
But this torch that I've found
It's gotta be drowned, or it soon might explode
So make it one for my baby
And one more for the road
The long, so long, the long, very long, road....

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Well, MrScribbler. I'm glad you are still here. Hope you have good days come into your life with much happiness. ((Hugs)) Sunny

MrScribbler said...

Sunny -- right now, I'd settle for a day or two when I didn't feel the oppressive loneliness I've known for the past eight months....

gillardia said...

I'm glad you're still here too. My hope is that this lonliness will pass for you soon.

Gill

lovezao said...

I certainly hope to be reading you for a long time.
Dreams can be scary.

likeisaid said...

You aren't going anywhere! And you're not going to have a crappy dream like that again! You're needed right here. :))

John said...

You're turning into Vincent Price but more macabre. This is getting a little scary. I think the dream was real but symbolic not prophetic. But it isn't my life, just my impression.