I love dreams. I rarely remember them, but when I do, and when they’re interesting, I enjoy telling Heather about them. If I have time, I like to write them down.
Saturday morning very early, I had this dream…

I was supposed to play drums for my favorite band, Quasi. We were to perform at a small outdoor festival, kind of like on a gazebo in front of a medium-sized picnic. I was panicking, since I don’t play the drums. But in my dream, I could play them at least a little.
I asked Sam Coomes if my son could play instead of me. (And Jay can play the drums.) We were in the middle of negotiations when the dream faded. So I’ll never find out if Jay played drums for Quasi.
The irony of the dream is that Quasi has an amazing drummer. (Janet Weiss is my favorite drummer.) So why would Sam be asking me – or Jay – to play the drums?

On the ego continuum of “Mother Teresa to Mr. Trump,” I rank myself somewhere in the middle, but I do have occasional fantasies involving things I would mandate if I were “King of the World” and everyone would have to follow my commands. The list has evolved over the years. For example, I’ve dropped one I wished for during my apartment dweller days, now that I’m a homeowner. It was “Anyone arriving home after 11PM and making enough noise to awaken anyone else in the apartment complex will be subjected to severe punishment.”
My early 2011 Macbook Pro is still humming along gracefully. Five years is a long time in computer years. (According to
I’m a huge fan of the idea of spectrums. So many aspects of life can be described by spectrums.