#9 Dream

Strange dream last night (aren’t they all). . . I’m buying some stuff at the local supermarket, and I’m surprised to find that the cashier working the register is none other than John Lennon. I’m completely surprised and flustered to suddenly be in the presence of such a famous person. And I’m fumbling around in my wallet trying to get my money and dropping things on the floor, etc. I’m a little embarrassed at my klutziness, and try to explain to him what a surreal experience this is, just being in the presence of him, even though it’s a fairly mundane interaction. He seems amused by it all. And I have a big, beaming smile — I’m practically ecstatic and laughing to myself — as I walk off with my groceries. . . Later I’m in a gym, playing one-on-one-on-one basketball against Lennon and my little brother (coincidentally named Paul). And I can tell you, John Lennon may have been a great musician, but (at least in the dream) he played very poor defense at basketball. I was pretty much able to score at will against him.

Another one of those dreams, too odd and strange to even try and interpret.


I only remember one other time when I dreamed of John Lennon. That dream was a lot more dramatic. . . The two of us are in the top floor of this lighthouse at the beach by the sea. We get in a physical fight, and we’re wrestling and throwing punches. And then we’re both hanging halfway out the window of the lighthouse, grappling and trying to over-power each other. I suddenly get the better of him and shove him out the window. And he goes falling to his death to the beach below. The last scene of the dream: He’s laying on his back in the sand, with his dead eyes wide open, staring up at me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.