Tom Ramcigam (magicmarmot) wrote,
Tom Ramcigam

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I had a dream

I just had the weirdest dream.

Barb and I were new initiates into some sort of high-society club. Som initiation function which consisted of dinner where the new initiates had to wear robes.

It started when I was in a prep room listening to some butler-ish type guy talking about what behaviors were appropriate. It was obvious that this was a very pretentious event, but I don't remember any details. Then in walked the main speaker for the evening. The butler-dude was telling him what to say, that he wouldn't need to be reading fom his crappy book, and that he was to do a sort-of jazz version of the chicken dance. "But what if people don't laugh?" he asked, and I pulled him aside and told him that if you sell it, deliver it with confidence, people will enjoy it. Or he could choose to give the people the speech that he was perpared for, it was his choice. I was annoyed that the point of the evening was apparently to make fun of this guy, and I wanted to let him know that he didn't have to perform at something that would remove his dignity.

Something went wrong, and my robes were gone, and there was no door. We had to come in through the window. In so doing, we were recognized by the pre-dinner entertainment (Tony Shaloub) and he had them throw the spotlignt on me. I yelled to have the lights off NOW (because I didn't have my robes), which obviously shocked Tony, but the lights went out one by one, and I was left to get to my table in peace.

When I got to the table, the already-present guests werer there shuffling chairs around. When I looked at my chair, there was an old stain on it, like someone had poured Pepsi on it and let it dry. I remarked that I guess it was my turn for the bad chair and started looking for a waiter to get a rag to clean the seat, when one of the fellows there said "Before you go, I have a song for your wife", and stood up to sing a bawdy little song about tweaking nipples until the milk ran. After he was done, I leaned into him and said "perhaps later on, you will let me tweak your nipples, and we'll see whether it is milk that runs out", to which he turned white and sat down.

I went to find a waiter. Apparently we were in a hoity-toity restaurant that had been engendered for just this occasion. I found a snotty waiter who looked distinctly owl-ish, and asked him for a clean rag so I could wipe my seat. He asked me for my identification card, and since I had left my jacket on the seat, I could not provide it for him, and he told me I was SOL. I said "do you know who I am? I am the guest of honor", and he just looked at me and shrugged. I asked him how much his friends were tipping him, and he faltered. I asked him if he had any friends. He faltered. I asked him how many people liked him. He faltered more. I told him that I could like him. He gave me a playful nip on my nose with his beak, handed me a menu, and told me that Ramon would be out shortly.

As I made it back to my seat, I was cleaning my glasses with my shirttail when I came across a somewhat well-dressed bum staggering through the restaurant. I stopped to ask him if he was alright, but he just grumbled and kept moving. Beyond the fence outside, a bunch of rowdy folks were having a beer-drinking fest arouns a barrel outside-- may have been a barbecue-- and one of them was Deidrich Bader. I started tucking my shirttail back in.

When I got back to my seat, Kelsey Grammer was there trying to clean it up and being all apologetic.

I was hauled up before the magistrate of the organization, who was the "bum" that I had acknowledged earlier. The elders of the organization were all in attendance, and it was obvious that this was an initiation hearing, and I had failed any number of tests for proper behavior.

One by one, the "charges" were read to me, and then it was my turn to speak.

"Rather than assigning each of these charges individually, I would like to speak on them as a whole.

"I do not apologize for my actions or behaviors this evening. The things that I did were the choices made by a free man to keep his dignity intact. I may not be acceptable material for your club, and that is alright. I would rather be a man comfortable with making his own decisions than some sheep who follows your conventions and sacrifices his own free will."

Then I woke up.

It wasn't a realistic dream by any means. It was a symbol-dream, a message-dream that I don't yet understand. It appears to be about choices, but it identifies a much different quandry than the one I find myself in currently. Perhaps this is a different facet of the same problem, and I just don't see it yet.


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