I hate when that happens...

So, as I was mentioning to Wendy, I had a very vivid dream. I believe they're called "lucid" dreams, in some circles. Well, the actual definition of a lucid dream is one where the dreamer is consciously aware that he/she is dreaming, and thus is able to "control" the dream.

I've had dreams like this, where I was aware that I was dreaming, but was never able to control the dream. I guess it takes practice.

Anyway, I won't go into particular detail of the dream, but I was so sure that it was real that when I "woke up," I was really frustrated. It felt so real. I was sure it was real. I think I might have pinched myself "in the dream." But I still woke up. It almost felt like the Matrix (and no, I'm not equating myself to Neo). But I would imagine that's how it might be.

I did have another extremely vivid dream last night/this morning. It involved a dead turtle, since I had a pet turtle at one time. I was trying to catch it, since it was running away from me (I know, a turtle running away? It's a dream, folks). But when I finally caught it, it was so frightened in my hand that it died.

I was so distraught, I kissed him (risking myself for salmonella, I know) and I went to bury him. Actually, it was a whole funeral procession with unrecognizable people. We were marching towards the cemetery.

And then, poof. Wide awake.

I was so sure that it was real. I was even wiping my mouth, since it had a briny, metallic taste. But alas, I think I was drooling.

Oh well, back to the grind...

Call me old fashioned....

I had started to write this post last night, but I was so tired I fell asleep at the wheel (or at least, at the computer). I guess that was a sign that I was running on fumes, so it was time to recharge the batteries, so to speak.

But I had been thinking about certain things a lot recently, and one of those things was the fact that we rarely see those couples that have been married 40, 50 even 60 years. That could be for a lot of factors (poor diet, congenital diseases, or just bad luck), but also because this world has become a place where it's easy to just say, "It's not working. I want out" and it's done.

I remember being at a restaurant last year where this elderly couple was celebrating either their 55th or 60th wedding anniversary. They were accompanied by their children and a few grandchildren as well. I guess what really stuck out at me was how happy the celebrating couple looked. I know that their voyage together wasn't always a smooth one; I'm sure there were probably some stormy seas, and who knows, maybe even a really bad storm (or two). But here they were, smiling and happy, because they weathered the storm together, and pulled it through. And I guess that's what made me a bit pensive, even (dare I say) a bit teary-eyed.

Why, you might ask? Well, asides from the fact that I am a romantic, and that's how we roll, I really believe in the idea of love. What is love? (I have to resist saying, "Baby, don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more, but there, I said it anyway). Seriously, what is love? I am not going to sit here and claim that I have the answer, or even a clue as to what it is, but I guess to me love is what I had witnessed at that restaurant last year.

For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death should you both part.

Maybe these words are antiquated. Maybe it should say something like:

Richer, yes, poorer, no, unemployed and drinking beer all day, hell no! Death? I am definitely not waiting around for you!

At least, that's the mentality people seem to get once the going gets rough. And yes, the going will get rough. As Bon Jovi once said, life is not a bed of roses. (Did I just quote Bon Jovi?)

But for me, I really value those words. Being with someone for any long period of time, you eventually will get to know them on a very intimate basis. And if you do love someone, hopefully that love will flourish and survive. But unfortunately, often times once we hit that brick wall, the tendency is to want to find the easy way out.

So what is love? I really don't know how to explain it. I guess you either feel it or you don't...

TO BE CONTINUED>..

(Not) Comedy show last night...

So, last night I was at a comedy show in the East Village. The name of the place was called Identity Bar & Lounge, and it was aptly named, at least for last night.

It was a free comedy night, and there is some credence in the saying that not everything free is necessarily good. Most of the comics left us wanting more than just a random chuckle, and I think most of the highlights of the evening came from me telling the host that I was an Asian Eskimo from the Aleutian Islands (in Alaska) that lived in Brooklyn. Nice. I can probably say with some certainty that I was well represented on the census. Most of the comics there touched upon that (as well as the Spaniards that happened to be sitting in the front, who were also fodder for most of the comics).

In any event, I mention this because standup was something I was thinking of trying. After last night, I realized I might not have thick enough skin. I might just stick to making my friends laugh for now.

Saludos,
Bombon S.

A day in the life...

Hmm, where to begin?

Well, hello everyone. My name (it's not my real name, but let's say, my nom de plume) is Bombon Sabroson. BS for short. (Insert joke of your choice here)...

OK, now that all your chuckles are out, I guess I started this blog to get back into the swing of things, writing wise. A long time ago, right after the Big Bang, I fancied myself a writer. I actually studied it (well, it was screenwriting, which is more of a craft than an art, but I digress), wrote a few screenplays, and thought I was on my way to becoming the next Esterhaz (or whatever his name was, I don't remember). I remember he was getting like $4 million a script, and this was back in the mid-90s, when $4 million actually got you somewhere (or something).

After a few failed attempts, and some boxed applause responses, I essentially lost the love. I reacquainted myself with my guitar (my first love), and joined a Spanish rock group (that shall remain nameless, since I don't want to get sued for using their name in an unsanctioned manner) and tried my hand at making that my career.

Suffice it to say, ultimately it did not work out.

And where am I now? Well, you can say that I'm toiling away in obscurity. The day job. The night dreams of still making it in music.

But I can't complain. At least I am still surviving, and still alive.

There will be more to come.

Saludos,
Bombon