Archive for the ‘Dreams’ category

Dreaming of the Dark Horse

August 2nd, 2011

I haven’t written much about our trip to Chicago, and I should. After all, it was La’s second trip to the city, and Evan’s first, and both got to see some of my favorite people and dearest friends. I wish I could also say they got to see some of my favorite places, but for most of the time we were limited by the kiddo, of course, and by a work schedule that didn’t let me get out much.

We did get to spend our last night there at my favorite Chicago spot, so it’s probably no surprise I dreamt about it the next night, from our home 2,000 miles away.

I dreamed we were at the Dark Horse, that it was late at night, that the lights were dimmed (as usual) and a group of us were sitting in a corner of the bar where I often sat. But not where I often sat for most of the time there; it was a corner I and my friends used early on, when the bar was crowded and we were pressed into one of the few remaining spaces.

I was staring at the wall behind me, covered in mementos. The walls at the Horse do indeed feature pictures from owner Jon’s father’s life in places, and of horses and other bar decor, but other than one area covered in Polaroids — is it even still there? I don’t remember — people aren’t on display.

Except in my dream: The wall behind me had framed knicknacks from former bartenders Mac and Garrett, and others I can’t remember outside the dream. I was sad I wasn’t represented, as if I had made something of myself and deserved to be lauded as a celebrity former-regular. Jon, the owner, was his usual easygoing self, assuring me I’d have a place on this unreal wall of fame.

And that’s it. I woke up. I wonder if maybe the dream was telling me I’d finally accepted the Horse as history, but if so, it did a bad job. I ached for the place throughout the weekend. I pined for its smell, its sense of safety, its camaraderie. I guess I wished a bit wistfully for the irresponsibility the Horse signified, of days when I could on a whim walk two blocks and get drunk enough to stumble home. I love my life, but I won’t lie and say I haven’t been feeling the weight of carrying a family.

I wonder at what the dream meant. There won’t be an answer, I know. Sure would love to be up on that wall of fame, that’s for sure.

So, Andy and LiLo walk into a bar…

September 29th, 2010

Weird, weird dream last night. I dreamt I was in some three-flat in Chicago, and was waiting in line to try some new designer drug. (Hey, Mom and Dad, and any law enforcement professionals: The strongest recreational drug I take these days is Bud Light.)

Wanna guess who was sitting next to me? Well, of course it was Lindsay Lohan. Who else would also be in line for that sort of thing?

Apparently, though, I wasn’t sold on the whole psychedelic experience, because I spent quality time trying to convince LiLo to ditch the entire scene. Eventually, I was able to come to a sort of bargain: She’d give up on the drug, and we’d go back to my place and make out.

Wait. Stop. You can make all the choking noises you want, but let’s be real: Lindsay still cleans up really well. Also, she’s the pale freckled type I really enjoy. No coincidence, La is as well. And what of La in all this? Who knows? I think my brain was working on the assumption that I was still living in Chicago, which meant pre-La. (Har! Get it? Because… oh, never mind.)

So. The awesome lure of my sex convinced Lindsay Lohan to give up on drugs, though the alarm went off as soon as the deal was struck, so I suppose it’s true she went into rehab after I performed my civic duty.