Not your Father's El Centro

A Series of Dream-lets from Monday morning.

I was in a line to see a Rolling Stones Concert in what appeared to be El Centro, California. Only the show was at Sun Devil Stadium. I'm not sure if I was there to work or spectate, or both. but anticipation was in the air.

For those who don't know el-centro. it's a dusty desert town east of San Diego along I-8.

There were palm trees in my dream. I miss palm trees. I also miss Rock and Roll (in the working paradigm).

Somehow, as we were entering the stadium, the show became Peter Gabriel @ Key Arena. yummy. In this, I was most surely a spectator.

and then somehow the whole thing became a scary dream.

I'm in my bedroom at my parents house. Mine was the front bedroom, with easy access to the front yard and the street. It's late at night, and I'm convinced that there are bad people outside. Possibly pulling guns out of the trunks of their cars and about to storm our house.

(Oh yeah, Jeff Curnes was there, and he was really cute, and wearing a white Purser's uniform, and he held my hand and said wonderful and inspring things to me)

Then my sister came into the room, and tried to turn on this lights and yell or say something silly. I had to tackle her and scream-whisper in her ear about how they were going to kill us if she did not stop making so much noise.

And then I woke up. and it was 5 AM. I did not get back to sleep until 8:30. What I should have done is gotten up and gone to the gym.


oh well.