Hello folks, and Welcome once again to Retro Dee’s Dream Blog. This is a section of the main blog where I record my dreams. Most of the dreams have to do with the 1950’s, in keeping with the theme of this site.
Before I write this dream up, I need to explain that my family and I are once again in the midst of California Wildfire Hell. We’ve been anxiously awaiting evacuation warnings and orders, watching the smoke fill the air and sitting around wondering how we’ll ever get through this in the middle of a pandemic.
And this is only the first month of fire season.
As I sit here I find it more and more difficult to concentrate on my passion, the 1950’s, namely music from the 1950’s (and early 60’s) But I’ve forced myself to keep busy. After I packed my bags in preparation for a possible evacuation, I decided to do more music research. And one thing I’ll say about doing music research: There is ALWAYS something new to discover. Some of it is amazing and wonderful, some of it is disturbing and even vexing… but it’s always interesting.
I finally fell into a fitful sleep after another rough day of waiting to see what would happen with the fire situation. And here’s what I dreamed:
Broken Illusion I & II
The last dream I had about Don and Phil, I entitled: “Let’s Not Bother With Time”. I noted that in my dreams, there is no concept of actual time. This was especially evident in the ages of the brothers and myself, with the three of us perpetually in our early 20’s. In reality, I wasn’t even born until Don and Phil were in their 40’s, but my dreaming mind seemed to cast that fact aside.
In this latest dream, it’s my time to face reality. The illusion begins to shatter around me as my subconscious mind realizes more and more that not only is it not the 1950’s, Don and Phil -and the rest of the pioneers of Rock and Roll- are old enough to be my grandfathers (or at the very least, great-uncles.)
This dream starts off with a recurring dream that I’m at a party or social event, and somehow can’t get a drink. I suppose my nightmare would be to be stuck at a party or social function without access to any alcohol to calm my socially anxious nerves. Although socializing is on hold these days, and I very rarely drink anymore, this worry seems to still adhere itself to the back of my mind.
I’m not sure who was hosting the party, but it started off in a house, then the house morphed into a large casino/restaurant. I was talking to a few other women who seemed happy to be there. The party was going to last all night, so we’d be crashing at the casino.
Everyone there was in their 30’s, like me. So it wasn’t a super wild crowd, but they were definitely ready to have fun.
We first ordered from a huge menu. I ordered something, then went to get a drink from the bar. I had to go all the way down an escalator to a lower level to get the drink. I ordered a rum and coke and the bartender said he had to stretch the taffy to make the cola first so I had to wait. Whatever. Finally, he made my drink in a big 20 oz. glass with a straw. It was only 50 cents, because we’d all already paid a substantial entry fee to get into the party.
I took a sip and the carbonation was almost non-existent, but there was definitely a shot or two in it, so I didn’t care. Then I began working my way back up to the top floor where my group was eating at a table.
As I climbed through the crowd, I tripped and I spilled half the drink. Then a Fanta machine that was being flushed out sprayed a bunch of dirty dishwater into the remaining half. I looked down at my contaminated glass and realized that I couldn’t drink it. So I dumped the rest out on the floor in frustration.
When I got back to our table, the food was there, but there was some confusion as to whose was whose. I finally got up to walk around by myself because I was restless and annoyed.
The carpet in the casino looked like the same carpet in the bathroom at the Surf Ballroom. As I walked across the room, with no real destination, I began to get lost in my thoughts. I started to work on an introduction speech I was planning to give at Everly Heritage Day. (This was only in the dream, I have yet to attend Everly Heritage Day, let alone give a speech there.)
I recited to myself: “… If you had told me a year ago that I’d be giving a speech at Everly Heritage Day… I’d totally have believed it!” (Which was supposed to be a joke on how people always say “If you told me a year ago I’d be doing ____ , I’d never had believed it.”)
I continued practicing the speech with something like: “But seriously, folks… It is my great honor to introduce two men who started singing in their boyhood… and ended up as two of the most influential musicians of all time. Ladies and gentleman, Don and Phil; The Everly Brothers….”
I imagined Don and Phil walking onto the stage, as the crowd cheered. They were no longer young men, but aged into their 80’s. Walking slower, perhaps, but still carrying the pride of their success and legacy. I thought to myself: They might be the old ones, but I’d probably collapse before they ever would, I’d be so nervous to meet them!
I walked back into the part of the casino where my group was and coincidentally, someone was talking about how Axl Rose wrote “Sweet Child O’ Mine” for Don Everly’s daughter, Erin. (I had just found that out the day before I had this dream) I pondered why he didn’t call the song “Sweet Erin O’ Mine” which would have prompted me to find out who Erin was long ago, thus avoiding the shock I face today.
Then, suddenly, because this is a dream, I was no longer at the casino. I was in a huge house and it was supposed to be the late 80’s. I was a little girl again, but I still had the same adult knowledge as I do today as a woman. The house was supposed to be The Everly Estate. For some reason, I was staying in one of the rooms. It was one of those 1980’s California modern-mansions. (Not that I’ve been in many, but I know what the architectural layout is. But I digress…)
I was supposed to be sleeping, but instead I left my room and I was looking down from the first level, waiting to see Erin come home with Axl Rose. I just couldn’t help but spy on them.
Soon enough, Erin walked into the house with Axl. From where I was standing on the second floor, I could only see Axl’s jeans. Erin was standing in front of him with her back to me. She had a lot of hair. She whipped it around like the hot chicks in one of those 80’s Rock videos on MTV. After all, she was one. She jumped on him, and I thought “I’m a little girl, I shouldn’t be watching this.”
So I went back into my room and thought, “If I’m a little girl again, what should I be doing?” I grabbed a doll and began to brush its hair. Then I left my room again, but this time I went in the opposite direction from where Erin and Axl were, and I sat down on some steps. That’s when Don came out into the hall. He was about 50 or so, which he would have been at the time. He looked at me and smiled, like someone does when they see a little kid. For a moment I forgot I was supposed to be like 6, and thought I had caught his attention… but then I remembered that I was only a little girl. A better defense, perhaps, than being a peer who is subpar.
Still, I began to feel a terrible, overwhelming sense of reality engulf me. The dreams I’d been having shifted from having no time-related rules, to having a strong sense of chronological events.
As I was woke up from this dream, at first I thought everything in it was just something I invented. I remember groggily thinking: “What a weird dream! I dreamed that Don Everly’s daughter married Axl Rose…”
And when I fully woke up I said: “Oh. She did.”
So by any chance did you happen to read this post all the way to the bottom of the page? If so, my condolences. 🙂
We’ll see what happens in the next Everly dream, although at this point I’d strongly prefer to flush them out of my subconscious entirely and just stick to listening to their music.
Although if I ever get a handle on lucid dreaming, you’ll be the first to know… and perhaps, understandably so, the last to care.
girl silhouette graphic from clipart-library