Gut Rumbles

March 29, 2004

I had a dream

I've been sick and feverish lately, and even with the pills the doctor gave me, nights are a tumultuous experience. I have horrible dreams.

I dreamed last night that I was back at work, but when I walked out of the control room, I was in an IGA grocery store. In the vegetable rack I saw a bunch of brown paper bags labeled by shift, A,B,C and D. I opened one and found it full of pure-bud ganja, the kind I saw in Jamaica. I went apeshit. I pitched a hissy-fit.


"What do you want us to do with it?" one of the operators asked.

"I don't care. Burn it. Throw it in a tank. Feed it to the calciner. Just get rid of it. I can't afford to lose you guys over a failed piss-test, so just get it gone and don't bring it back here again."

"Well, what's that on your belt, boss?" I looked down and found a big bag of pot hanging from my belt where I always wore my escape respirator at work. I was stunned. What the hell was THAT doing there? I learned my lesson in Jamacia. I'm too old to be a hippie again. I don't want any more dope. I can't handle it.

I tore the pot off my belt and told the operators to burn it all. They went outside and I followed them.

All of a sudden, I was in the woods around Blood Mountain Cabins and my operators were burning dead leaves on a nice fire and making bird nests out of the ganja. They placed all the buds in the trees in nice arrangements and told me, "We'll come back and get it later. We'll share with you."

I woke up in a feverish sweat and didn't go back to sleep for a couple of hours. My mind is a terrible place to be when I run a fever. That dream frightened me.

But if I ever go back to Blood Mountain and see a pot-nest in a tree, I'll wonder about a lot of things.