Converting Logic into Kisses

I had a dream not too long ago involving two people both of my acquaintance, who are probably not mutually acquainted and may never be, but did meet(or at least referenced one another)the the theater of my dreaming mind. As well as the 'six degrees of separation' we experience with the layers of acquaintances we have around the world, it looks like we do that when we're dreaming as well. Sort of an astral Facebook or Twitter..

Anyway, one of the characters, whom I'll call Bob, is a former neighbor who lived around the corner from me and used to leave me badly-written notes about my dog's barking. He was on disability, so he was home all day to hear what were probably less-than-dulcet sounds coming from my "howlin' hound" whom I left in the backyard while at work(sorry about that, Bob). I think I mentioned, in another blog, that he even went so far as to bring female dogs into my yard for my dog to mate with, just to try and calm him down. "I can't figure out why he's so hyper, Rog! He got him some pussy twice!"

I don't think Bob has any idea how funny that is, which is, in a way, one of his charms. He moved out of the house some time ago, along with several others, and now lives around the corner again, but across the street. Far enough away not to be impacted by anything at my house, be it barking dogs or what-have-you. I see him from time to time in his yard there, me in my vehicle on my way someplace, and always give out a smile and a wave, which is always returned. Whatever karma we had has apparently been worked out. End of Bob and his story.

The other character in this dream I'll call Zooey. She's mentioned in an earlier blog or two, a pharmacy clerk whom I had a brief crush on, maybe a month or so ago. About 18 or so(too young to ring out beer when I've bought it there), not what would appear to be a whole lot of intellectual curiosity. Not dumb, as such, but kind of a trailer court weltanschauung . Still, very pleasant, and very cute! The crush seemed to come and go of its own accord. When I go in there now, it's still pleasant but no more infatuation. Just as well. End of Zooey and her story.

So in this dream(to finally get to the point--if there even is one!), Bob is telling me, "Yeah, I know Zooey! She forwards your emails to me, and converts the logic into kisses!" And here, he shows me a graphic of the converted logic in the form of little hearts.

It's funny that so often in your dreams, your mind is assembling, juxtaposing hopelessly disparate elements or images, things you'd never consciously put together. This is of course what you laugh about the next day when remembering it. In this case, it's words that would never come out of Bob's mouth: she forwards the e-mails to me, and converts the logic into kisses. No, Bob had more of a Larry-the-cable-guy thing going in his speech patterns and choices of words. His making a remark like that is about as likely as me becoming King of Jupiter.

Yes, a very un-Bob thing to say. So therein lies the comic incongruity here, the unlikely juxtaposition of disparate elements. But the two characters in my dream: Bob and Zooey, are more of a pair, much more kindred, at least socio-economically.

Socio-economically. Jesus. Listen to me with this drivel. Anyway, they're somewhat related, at least in my perceptions: Bob is on "disability", and Zooey aspires to a job where she can make $12 an hour with benefits. They're both kinda dangling on that societal rung, at any rate. I try and take the broader view, one I'd take at work if they were our clients, that they're both people who need some help. For that matter, who the hell doesn't?

So, taking this dream thing a bit further, it really has little or nothing to do with Bob or Zooey of course, rather more about my perceptions of them. And since I'm playing all the parts in this dream, what qualities am I imbuing Bob and Zooey with, and why? What are they, as characters, trying to tell me? In other words, what am I trying to tell myself?

Everyone we meet has something to teach us, even if it's only that we really wouldn't want to be them. Hard enough being ourselves, right? And besides, maybe that's the lesson we give to them: that if nothing else, they've learned that they wouldn't want to be us.

Converting logic into kisses. Whatever it means to you is what it means, I guess. Some of that inscrutable hillbilly wisdom. Maybe there is a hillbilly guru somewhere, a backwoods Bodhisattva who goes by the name of (please forgive me for this one)

Bubba Ram Dass.