When I was nineteen years old I had a dream, this is not a joke and one of the creepiest things that has ever happened to me, I still cannot make out exactly the coincidence, the odds of something such as this happening and the whole weirdness of the situation. The dream went like this: I was at a masquerade party in a Louis XVI mansion with manicured lawns, impeccable art and decor in every direction. Everyone was in white tails, perfectly fitted attire except for masks on their faces. Some were Venetian-like, others were similar standard mime lifeless faces. I was instantly put in this situation in tails and a mask, the dream took off from there. I was wandering through the party by myself while it seemed as everyone in attendance knew each other. Next to a titanic seven foot high fireplace I started speaking with a woman, mysterious not only in dress and mask but also in her tone and conversation. We spoke until she said: "We have to see him." "Who is him?" She replied, "Him."
So we walked through the party towards this massive structure of steps and pedestals until at the crest we saw a man sitting in a marble throne, white tails with black piping, his mask had an enormous, cartoonesque-nose standing out from the white glossy plaster. There was a tension in the air as the both of us stood before this masked man. He nodded and my acquaintance looked over towards me and removed her mask, gesturing me to take mine off. When she did a pile of dark brunette hair fell over her shoulders and striking green eyes pierced through my chest, I felt them refract off of the inside of my back and out into the abyss of the palace of which we stood a part of. Again the masked man nodded until he removed his mask and it was Bob Dylan, nappy Jew hair a mess, sleepy eyes and squint lines over his face. It was a total surprise and I stepped back aghast wondering what a man like Dylan was doing holding court at such a bourgeoisie event. She grabbed my right arm and pulled me away as Dylan watched us depart the room into another cavernous space noddingly, we kissed deeply there, myself groping her body as she pulled her hands off of her and looked me directly in the eyes with her emeralds.
Then I awoke.
Months later in a deep sleep she came back to me, in the dream I was laying in bed, heard a noise, startled I sat up to see her walk into my room wearing a black corset and patent leather heels. She straddled me and took my mouth in her own, leaning over while I acceptingly let her pin me down. All that transpired was kissing for what felt like hours until my skin was raw when she then sat up and uttered: "Another time."
I awoke once again.
In 1964 in a press conference in San Francisco Bob Dylan was asked if he was to sell out to a commercial interest what would it be? He replied: "Women's Garments."
Forty years later in 2004 Bob Dylan used his song "Love Sick" from the album
Modern Times for a Victoria's Secret advertisement. In the video a strikingly similar setting from my dream was used for the set and Bob Looked exactly as he did when he came to me in my sleep. It blew my fucking mind.
The song itself is a powerful combination of minor chords and pent up sexual aggression. From what I remember I was pretty pent up sexually at the time and the imagery from both my dreams and this video was enough for both a music junkie and a, well, a young man to make my head explode. I thought about it in class, during work in the summer and while I spoke with every young woman who crossed my path.
That was until (and this is where it gets terribly surreal) I was at the east end of Duval Street one night four years later and a brunette caught my eye as I was sitting at an open air bar facing the street. She cast a glance in the bar's direction while strolling with a female friend. In that glance I saw her face and her green eyes and realized that she was the woman from my two dreams. Ex-fucking-actly. For a moment I was paralyzed, not only by her beauty but more so because of the David Lynch moment that I was now a part of in the 90 degree heat of the Keys.
After that moment past I ran out into the street and after her. Politely I tapped her on the shoulder and when she turned around there was a full five second pause before I took a massive, deep breath and told her that I know this sounds bat shit crazy but I had two dreams about her. Surprisingly she was intrigued and still stood there. I asked her and her friend to join me for a drink in the bar so I could explain. They did and I went through the entire story.
After her friend departed I still sat next to my green eyed girl who (of course) turned out to be one of the deepest people I have ever met. From Camus to Kierkegaard, the observable universe to the Upanishads, we covered it all until we walked through dead streets back to the boat towards Sunset Key where my room waited.
We tore our clothes off in a frenzy and teased each other for what seemed like hours with kissing until it was time to move on. The next day she left with only a goodbye, just as she entered my life she was gone never to see or dream of her again.
Last night
Dylan Fest was held at the Bowery Ballroom and I attended, one of the first few songs was this and whomever it was singing killed it just like Bob did in the video below. It reminded me of that night, those dreams and the crazy, fucked up, metaphysical questions that remain. Once again so many questions were opened and left unanswered while I laid in bed alone wondering just what it was all about.
