Joey

My year end wallet cleanse produced a hand-written note that I'd intended to commit to a blog post quite some time ago. It's a dream I had a few months ago; you know, one of those ones where everything is crystal clear upon awakening, but mind images fade rapidly from memory by breakfast time.

Perhaps since this one was so clear still by the time I was chowing down on my morning muesli that I decided to commit it to posterity; well, to scrap paper at least.

Here goes: our new house (completely fictional apparently) was under construction, the excavation fully underway. The excavation was mirroring a house under construction at the time about 3 blocks from our present home. I've been monitoring its construction on daily dog walks since it differs from the norm in this 'hood, its concrete foundation being supported by piles driven deep into the soft earth of its immediate area.

The really strange part of the house construction process was that our friend Darren had drawn the blueprints. Its not strange that he would do it mind you, but considering he's an accountant, drafting is most certainly not his strong suit.

(The rapid scene changes within my dream I'll attribute to my short attention span regarding TV/Youtube viewing; I tend to channel-surf.) As far as I can recall there was no transition from house construction to the next scene where I found myself in a Yaletown-like pub having a beer with Joey from the 90s sitcom "Friends".

I wasn't a particular fan of that show, but there was one episode that stands out to me featuring Joey where he was convinced he spoke passable French, but in reality, to put it in musical terminology, he was completely tone deaf. Since my wife teaches French, we've pulled up that clip on Youtube several times just to bust a gut.

In the dream-pub Joey insisted that I have more than one beer, one being almost always my normal limit.

(Channel change) I'm walking alongside a canal, kind of like the Sumas Canal in Chilliwack. I'm still holding the glass stein half filled with beer. Suddenly, and without warning, it gets so dark I wouldn't be able to see my hand in front of my face. I can't see where I'm going so I have to stop. Apparently I can still see the sky as I notice very dark storm clouds are rolling in. A sliver of sunshine breaks between the clouds and I quickly fumble for my camera that I know is stashed in my backpack. I miss the best photographic light but I do mange to snap a few shots of the sunbeams through a narrow break in the threateningly black clouds.

I awake with the urgent thought that I should play back those (supposedly) captured images from my camera's memory card.