Waking Finnegan

“We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our whole life is rounded with a sleep” ~ Shakespeare

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Location: zurich, Switzerland

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Peggy's Cove Dream


At Peggy's Cove Nova Scotia--a slow procession of whales passing and M. Oshima talking to himself by the campfire. I motion for him to check out the baleens popping up in the day for night light but he's caught up in the pathetic little damp and mostly smoking pit. I go over and he's tending some odd sort of fish and he looks up and says 'grunion' and 'check out their amphibian flippers' which I do and yes they are and ungutted too so I ask 'Did you clean them?' and he says 'They don't need it' and goes into a tripped-out scientific rundown on grunion and I'm hearing a rhyme inside it but can't get its rhythm and meter, then I blurt out that 'grunions' sounds like a rhyme from Dr. Seuss like 'Grunions with Onions' and he smiles and starts up a break-beat from the back of his throat then an incredible Seuss rap very long and complex with that wan little fire-pit hissing at his feet.

Creepy looking census-taker at my back door at Ottenweg--he's holding a huge adding machine and he shouldn't be there at my door in the backyard garden and he's tresspassing so I tell him to go and he's reluctant but he does and then kicks at the snow violently.

LACC parking lot with R. Keene and me wheeling around in an old jalopy DeSoto with no hood and oversized manifold sticking out much too far--he's teaching me to drive a stickshift and I'm feeling deja vu. R says 'Car got no torque!' and tells me to stop and I do--he's miffed about the car and tells me to wait up while he fixes things and then a sudden unbelievably loud and explosive race car roar as he guns it and tires peeling leaving me in acrid stinky smoke--now he's way off at the end of the parking lot but no screeching brakes and he doesn't stop and heads right into Vermont traffic horribly crashing with cars and people screaming. I look around horrified and see an old black man and he motions for me to come over and he looks just like Juell from my Crenshaw studio. He looks awfully sad and slowly tells me 'He's that same dude from the Santa Monica market'


2 Comments:

Blogger mcbickle said...

Making up Seuss raps in your dream is pretty damn cool. So is having dream deja vu. My favorite part though has to be the pouty census taker.

I'm sorry, F., I lack vim and wit this morning. Some kind of physical processing problem with the 400 bourbons I drank last night...

5:25 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

....which ought to keep you humming merrily ad nauseum.

3:24 PM  

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