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Friday, 23 May
In Dreams I Walk With You

One day after work, I fell asleep on the couch, as I am wont to do, and this was my dream. It's the most vividly remembered dream I've ever had.

It was a brilliant summer day, and I was walking through a city park with my friend K. K. is an actress friend of mine, and she is very beautiful; in the dream, she was wearing a gorgeous, low-cut slinky green gown, and she held my hand as we walked. But there wasn't anything erotic at all about the whole scene (for one thing, K. is a lesbian); it was all quite solemn and stately somehow. I don't recall if we talked while in the park; what I mostly remember is walking serenely and noticing things like the beautiful motes of dust hanging in the sunbeams and the feel of the soft grass under my feet. Everything was hyperreal.

Then, at some point where the dreamlogic dictated it was "time," I walked K. home. We approached her brick apartment building, which I now know is just some random place I pass on my way to work, but in the dream, it was where she lived. We stopped on the stoop of her building, and K. turned to me and smiled.

"Thank you," she said, still kind of warmly solemn, if that makes sense, "that was wonderful."

"I want to tell you something," I said softly, and I swear I had no idea what was going to come out of my mouth, but I knew that it was important. We looked steadily into each other's eyes.

"When Lawrence Welk died," I continued, "he was given an autopsy. The doctors cut him open from here--" I touched the top of my sternum-- "to here," and then I touched my belt. My voice was steady and calm. "The doctors opened him up, and they cut out his heart and they held it. They held the heart of this man whose life and music had touched millions of people all over the world. Can you imagine? That's what I feel today."

We were quiet a moment, and then K. said, "Yes," and smiled sweetly, and went inside. Then I woke up.

Playing on the TV was The Lawrence Welk show.


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Comments

He Touched My Sister: She was born in 1958. Every week my parents would watch the Lawrence Welk Show. And every time his violin section was featured (they might be playing Holiday for Strings) my sister would have a weeping, screaming, fainting attack. "Mama," she would sob, "they're playing that sad music." My guess is that the violin of all instruments most closely mimics the range and tone of the human voice, and she was expressing the human yearning to express our human-ness.

Now that I have violated my inviolable rule of never using the same word twice in one paragraph, isn't this as weird as your dream? When they open her up, images of those adorable sisters and that Irish tenor are going to tumble out. I, myself, really liked the bubble machine.

Comment number: 000860   Posted by: debbie on May 23, 2003 09:39 PM from IP: 63.206.143.154

Great dream! My 4-year-old LOVES watching Lawrence Welk. Another life being touched by his music.

Comment number: 000861   Posted by: Stacey on May 24, 2003 04:09 PM from IP: 69.22.6.97

I wish my dreams had punchlines.

Comment number: 000863   Posted by: yami on May 25, 2003 05:24 PM from IP: 131.215.182.30

What if it would have been Hee Haw?

Comment number: 000864   Posted by: dayment on May 25, 2003 07:07 PM from IP: 12.228.111.93

That is the most Raymond Carver-esque dream I have ever heard. Thanks, Skot.

Comment number: 000865   Posted by: Snarky on May 26, 2003 01:43 PM from IP: 141.156.135.60

Whoa. I mean, you know, like, seriously WHOA.

Comment number: 000866   Posted by: Crinkle on May 27, 2003 07:33 AM from IP: 167.7.13.176

No more anchovie and pistachio pizza before bed, okay? There. That's better.

Comment number: 000869   Posted by: KOTWF on May 27, 2003 09:31 AM from IP: 65.194.133.205

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