Welcome 2003 - Strange Dreams and Springtime for Hitler

I had no plans for New Year’s Eve. In fact I had more plans for New Year’s where I would visit Pat for her black-eyed peas and tamales and she would get my steamed cabbage and maybe a grilled steak from me.

My sister invited me to have a big pot of chili with her husband and kids but I would be seeing her this weekend. Her son gets some time off before he heads for the Middle East.

I called up my ex-wife Pat and had her take me out to the new Chinese buffet. It had a large selection with a few better than average dishes – which is almost the best that Pasadena can do. Technically it was in South Houston across from Taqueria Guadalajara which I have explained earlier I crossed off my list. It turns out Pat hasn’t crossed it off, she thought the food was acceptable and the fight in the parking lot was the same as a free floorshow. I have it still crossed off, I'm not risking getting shot for so-so food and lousy margaritas.

Among other things I told Pat about my strange dream that afternoon.

The dream took place at Peter and Carol’s, but at a much bigger and brighter house. Carol had become a preacher and had taken a large church group of people for movies or something. I remember thinking how Carol had evolved into that role and it was neat and significant because she had just let more religion and spirituality into her life until she naturally became a priest or minister – she was happy too. I somehow lived at the large house, maybe in a spare bedroom. Pat and Peter and I had gotten married but somehow we three together had never gotten together. Peter and Pat had and myself and Pat but never the three of us together. Not Peter and myself either, you must not know me well.

So we had taken off all of clothes and were on the living room floor but hadn’t done anything when we heard Carol and the church group at the door. Peter took off - I don’t know where. Pat grabbed this knit throw and also took off. I grabbed an empty Cool Whip container, placed it strategically, and headed for the bathroom. All the people, over 25 of them, men, women and children, were already inside the house and someone had gotten to the bathroom first and locked it before me.

So I am standing outside of the bathroom, I also now have to go, with the Cool Whip container over my privates with other people who also want to use the bathroom. Then Peter and Carol’s young son, Keegan, asks me what is in the container. I don’t answer immediately because I am working through questions.

For some reason I am puzzling out my new responsibility is to Peter and Carol’s children when I am married, with Pat, to Peter. Evidently not to Carol. Also I suddenly realize that is not Pat, my ex-wife, with whom I was now 3-way-married but someone similar to Pat.

There has become question overload and I wake up. Which happens to me, suddenly the dream raises too many questions and I have to wake up to figure them out. Then when I am more awake I get more questions.

Why did I think it was Pat and then decide it wasn’t? She had shorter hair and was friendlier. This gets a laugh from Pat as I am telling it to her. She was similar to Pat in being nice, practical and liking handicrafts.

Why was I married to Peter and not-Pat but living at Carol’s and Peter’s? Why haven’t we gone to bed together? Why was Peter still married to Carol if he was married to us? Maybe we three weren’t really married but I was involved in some weird affair? Was I really gay? The last is a guy thing; it comes up when you are figuring out dreams and you say of course not and then worry about it.

I asked Pat what she thought the dream meant. She said it meant I wanted more sex. I said that was silly, it was two guys married to one girl, it meant I wanted my wife to have more sex. She wisely didn’t say anything.

Pat takes me home around 10 PM. It is cold and she is going to curl up with an electric blanket and cats on her and read and be asleep before midnight. I say, “What, no grapes?” A Spanish custom is to eat 12 grapes at midnight while the clock is still striking.

At home I flip around the dial, I didn’t find “no flipping” – obscure joke, settle in for Adult Swim, the adult cartoons on the Cartoon network. Sometime before midnight but after watching Birdman, the costumed attorney, get Shaggy and Scooby-Doo off on drug charges I fall asleep. I wake up shortly after midnight. Happy 2003!

Flipping again I watch the PBS special on the making of The Producers soundtrack. Hilarious. Springtime for Hitler, one of the best plays never made. The musical looks even better than the original movie. A thought toward the end of the play stays with me – successful politics is theater – it’s show time. Something to remember as we watch the next few months unfold. I don't think Dubya is a good producer but watch out for Rove.