Waking Finnegan

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

My Photo
Name:
Location: zurich, Switzerland

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Colosseum Dream


Bending my neck up at a blue dream wall of Fenway proportions---this vertical stoppage plastered with tattered signs hocking Burma shaves and corn flakes. It could be the 50's, but I'm sure it's later because of familiar slats of zig-zag pavilion roof shading voices and eye that are leering at me because I'm standing at shortstop on the cinder brick-colored infield in my underwear, donning an old-fashioned pair of Kiwi-blackened baseball cleats and my LA cap. The sun is low, so I can't read the usual stark shadows off the foul poles sun-dialing the time of day---sweeping cantilevered aisles have lost their light and so no clocks. I sense vague snickering laughter seeping through the big wall.

Oddly mixed visions of gladiators like ballplaying heros in simulated Coloseum---but somehow I'm savvy about my need to escape this naked-with-black-shoes ignominy and so wend my way to the opposing team's dugout which I'm inching towards by following my
cleated groove circles. I arrive at the dugout steps and run straight down through the spectral corridor; now stopping to chuck my clacking shoes-and-sox and find my way out to that same perfect view to where the orange 76 glow-ball is vibrating against an obscene lurid blue sky where I watched purple San Gabriels and twilight double-headers. I can see slivered views of Deco LA City Hall. There's a helicopter chopping up some clouds and I can hear the pilot speaking through a megaphone at someone below. Is it me?

I'm with Uncle M on a repeat old trip to Zion and Bryce of long ago deserts and Rat Pack Vegas days---but he detours this time to where Glen Canyon lay before the fossil terrain floods. He's pointing out big Pueblo rock drawings like a scientist while barreling down the rutted gravel path. Aunt Mary is alive again and sitting in the back seat---but something is wrong---she seems too much like the same mannequin lady who lay mute in that satin-lined box just before she and uncle G sank into different pits. I don't know how to approach her and I'm afraid of what she might do. I'm lucid and want to shake this image of her being 'alive' but thankfully she disappears from her dream cameo but I'm jolted. But Uncle M is oblivious and half muttering cryptic comments about fishing tackle and bait and I'm losing the thread of his thoughts. He points out the sign reading 'just 20 miles' to world's best charbroiled triple decker burgers with authentic Belgian fries and I'm gonna wolf special meat with pickles and cheese and onions and bacon and lettuce and tomatoes and shakes and fries and sesame buns! We drive up to the sad old brick Van de Kamp's off Fletcher Drive where we used to get trays clamped to our car doors...and it's real gone and I'm blue because my uncle who never cried is speaking about all the good things gone and his voice sounds so old and lost and weary.

23 Comments:

Blogger transience said...

somehow, this dream makes me feel irretrievably lost. does that make sense?

2:40 AM  
Anonymous milktea said...

I am salivating over the picture of bacon and sesame bun and burger...

2:46 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Trans---often life itself can make one feel irretrievably lost. Does that make sense?

Milktea---I never did get to stick any of that stuff in my face. What a bummer. Like those damned sex dreams withouth the sex. Once in awhile I get lucky---on both accounts. Next time I'll bring my cell phone and call up take away.

6:50 AM  
Blogger transience said...

i guess it does. hmmmm. off to think some more.

7:42 AM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

i love every word of this almost hallucinogenic, surreal dream of yours. as i am already truly lost in my own fuge of ketamine love lust fantasy i don't think i could get any further entagled or irretrievably lost in yours but this is intoxicating stuff.
you.
transience.
ruksak.
great, great stuff.

11:45 AM  
Blogger Daniel said...

I am a Blog virus. Copy me into your blog & link back to the blog you contracted the virus, leaving a comment to link to yourself.

1:46 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Jesus, "A fuge of ketamine love lust fantasy" sounds like a sort of cross between a medicinal ointment and a sex cream for the 7 year itch.

4:45 PM  
Blogger Perfect Virgo said...

I have dreamt of dead people too but have never been able to identify their faces. The sense of Aunt Mary being alive again is quite chilling.

9:21 PM  
Anonymous doctorpants said...

That was so good I just shit my pants.

8:13 PM  
Blogger Jennynyc said...

Great dream and great comments! Are you feeling nostalgic and sad lately?

5:27 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Dr Pants, shitting your pants is part of your "Pants plans", isn't it?

Jenny, I'm often quite nostalgic in my dreams, but I don't think that I've been reflecting on the past any more than usual.

8:56 AM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

thanks for leaving a comment on my blog, i hope you visit again.
sometimes when i dream of my dead grandfather, i feel nice knowing that i still have a connection with him, that something still remains.

10:34 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Gulnaz...Do you ever have nightmares about dead folks from your past?

I sometimes wonder if this sort of dream reincarnation is where humans first gained the notion of immortality. Are those heiroglyphics in Egypt the stuff of dreams?

10:52 AM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

nope not nightmares, sometimes disturbing but not nightmares.

12:16 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

How on earth do you write like this? It' so strangely
moving, mentally conflating yet vivid and real all at once. Do you actually detail everything in your dreams as you dream them?

12:34 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Anon,

As I've posted before, this dream tapestry is built entirely from the 'reality' of my dreams. Sitting down to relay it in writing (as close to the original as possible) is another thing altogether---forming places and mental spaces out of words is a writing task no matter how I've dreamt it.

12:41 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

i like what you have done with the photo, it looks interesting with transience's but i never thought it looked erotic. *sheepish smile*

7:45 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

which dream finnegan?

The Cap'in
Http://captainsheldonio.hopto.org

7:59 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Captain, this is the one. there wasn't a comment section on the page, but I should have mentioned the file.
http://www.yoda.co.za/
forwardslashcaptaindotmydotcaptain/
Writing/4.html

8:54 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

The veil as erotic fetish item is surely a byproduct of having seen too many MGM re-runs without parental supervision.

10:19 PM  
Blogger Roger Stevens said...

That was a long dream.

My dreams often take me back to my childhood home, which doesn't bear much relationship to my real childhood home of course.

My Grandmother gave me my copy of Finnegan's Wake. I don't think she really knew what it was she'd given me. I asked her to sign it for me.

So, what does that all mean? Search me.

Good writing.

2:43 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Roger, don't put anything past your grandmother. She might not have allowed what she did or didn't know for good reason. If she gave you Joyce, and Finnegans Wake at that, I'd be wondering if I were you.

1:02 PM  
Blogger . : A : . said...

There is something grand and majestic in the post but I can't seem to put my finger on it for now.

8:44 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home