I have some weird dreams.... I mean, I dream every night, as I recall, and I know that y'all shrinks reading this are gonna have a field day with me. I daydream, too, but that's another story.
After exchanging Thanksgiving stories with my partner in crime in the U.S of A., KillCastro, and phone calls with my partner in crime in Cuba, Gorki, I had to have some dreams. To cap it off, I watched the "liberation of Turkey" on TV. No, the G.I.s didn't kick the Turkish government to kingdom come, if you were thinking of that. I was referring to W pardoning the life of two huge white turkeys (not of two huge white Turks) and sending them to live in a secluded location. Maybe with Dick Cheney as their guardian, but I doubt it. Why? Too many turkeys in a corral, I guess.
No, seriously, because W. named the birds May and Flower (Mayflower, you devoid of imagination people) and Mr. Dick wanted to call them Lunch and Dinner -W's joke, I am telling you, the guy's not good as Prez of the USA, but he'd be phat as late night show comic-man. Hey, W.... I heard that Conan O'Brien is taking Jay Leno's spot, this is your chance dude!
So, I went to sleep.
As peacefully as one guy who writes KillCastro and the Black Sheep of Exile can sleep. How peacefully is that?
Well, that's your guess!
I dreamt that I was on the phone with KillCastro and that he was coming down to my ranch (me, in a ranch, that's gotta be a very wild dream) with his wife and his cousin the doctor -is he a damn shrink? Because now I need one.
The ranch was in a state I love, Texas. The place looked like a finca in Cuber (as they refer to the place I was born in the Big T X) and of course it was full of chickens, turkeys, oxen, you name it. I had a few buildings in the Charlie Bravo compound, which was kind of built a la Ted Nugent. In one of those ancillary buildings I had a rehearsal space for a rock band. I was really excited about the visit of KillCastro -was he damn coming on those black helicopters for good?- so the guy could sit at a huge drum throne and thunder life away from it. I mean, huge. Two base drums, and I have no idea how many tom toms, sneer drums, high hats or cymbals.
Then there was Gorki.
He was driving a pair of oxen, by the names of Flor de Mayo (Mayflower anyone?) and Tomeguin (a little bird from Cuba).
He was screaming their names away, walking happily with the huge animals. Then I got out of a from a sugar cane patch where I was conducting some "very personal" business (get the hell out of my dream, Jimmy Smits) and drove my own oxen up the path too. They were Ala Corta (little wing, for the Jimi Hendrix and Steve Ray fans) and Limoncillo (little lemon or lemoncello for the Danny de Vito fans).
We were getting a new pair of oxen delivered by KillCastro, and the three of us met and named them Comandante and General. Yeah, after those guys you're thinking of.... Can you really imagine Mrs. KillCastro allowing her husband to transport those animals in a black helicopter? Very unlikely. Maybe his cousin the doctor thinks that it's funny....
The funny thing is that you have not met three types more urban than Charlie Bravo, KillCastro, and Gorki. We get goose bumps when people mention the word "campo" and suburbia is for KillCastro and myself the result of some sort of conspiracy to get city boys to settle in the countryside. Gorki, well, he doesn't even know what suburbia is. He's holed up in Marianao, and you will need the help of the marine infantry to get him out of there.
I better call Gorki and tell him of my dream.
I know that KillCastro is calling all shrinks to come here with the ambulance and the straight jacket!