…of what? Of a totally insane dream.

I had a dream that seemed to last forever and here are some snippets that I can actually recall.

For no apparent rhyme or reason, Leon Russell (yes, I know) was showing me a ballet move called développé à la seconde, which I thought was even more remarkable because he was slightly paralyzed from a birth injury on the side that was attempting the move.

I can’t even begin to explain how or why my mind connected the Master of Space and Time to a difficult dance position, but that’s the beauty of the subconscious, I guess. It doesn’t have to make sense.

When I was involved in ballet, this particular move was a struggle for me to master. I often uttered a silent groan when Madame Kaliskis said it was time for développé because I knew she’d eventually make her way over to me at the barre and watch me until I felt my leg was going to fall off. She’d say “encore” which meant I had to do it again and again, and then she’d hold my leg up where it SHOULD be, and my task was to hold it there, but I never could.

Here’s a vid of how it ought to look; sadly, my extensions were never this perfect no matter how much I practiced.

Anyway…

As soon as Leon finished with his (quite nice, better than mine ever were) développé, the dream became all about me.

I was driving from my house to Catalina Island which is not at all possible as it’s about seventy-five nautical miles from my area and can only be reached by boat or air, but there I was, driving along a very narrow path with water on both sides of me, sometimes lapping up ever so slightly over the road, which totally freaked me out. This wasn’t a fun part of the dream as I was in a constant state of anxiety and vigilance so I wouldn’t miss the road and end up in the ocean.

(It’s only about twenty-six miles from the Los Angeles area, and the song by The Four Preps is accurate). https://youtu.be/1I7zMKptjRs?si=AwM3Vdcb5Y9iIzee

I remember taking the ferry back from Catalina Island but not sure what happened to the car that I drove along the non-existent road to get there. On Catalina, visitors can’t bring their own cars; most people use golf carts or bicycles. Only a very limited number of residents and businesses have vehicle permits and there’s a years-long waiting list for them.

Since I used to work for the (now defunct) company that used to go to Catalina Island from San Diego, it’s not too unusual to dream about it, but the more than four hour-long one way trip was often referred to as the “vomit comet” because, well, you can probably figure out WHY, haha.

I didn’t often accompany passengers over there for that reason, and because I generally get seasick. Ick.

After I was safely back on terra firma, my subconscious decided to go on another exploration of past memories and my often dreamed about kitty, Bandit, returned to snuggle with me in bed. She loved freshly washed flannel sheets as much as I do and we kept each other warm. The dream ended far too soon, along with the feeling of being safe and loved by a purring machine. That morning I had changed the sheets to soft, fragrant flannel ones, so THAT part of the dream fused with reality.

Strange dream, right? I can’t even begin to figure out what it all means, but it really wasn’t embarrassing at all because I’m fascinated with the human mind during different sleep states.

Back To The Island is playing in my head, so here’s the Leon connection, and to reiterate, this song was written and composed by Leon Russell, NOTNOTNOT Jimmy Buffet, and of course, Leon does it better.

And a live version with a couple of his children in the band…https://youtu.be/UXuPT-p3xk4?si=y0Bx361ND_jKT-wg