It’s time for yet another installment of Nelly talking about her vivid dreams.
It is healthy and enjoyable to write down my dreams from night-time and allow folks to pontificate about their meaning. So, get ready all you Josephs and Daniels…and Danielas and Josephines!
I was playing baseball at Yankee stadium. The place was packed, and all eyes were on me, but I wasn’t nervous at all. I had on my game face. I hit a line drive to center field and almost forgot to run to first base, because the hit surprised me so much.* I even made a double out of it, once I got to running. My double was replete with a really nice slide into second, I should add, and umpire-man called me “safe.”
Upon advancing to third base, I stole home on a catcher’s error. I dove headfirst and the crowd went especially wild. As I picked myself up from the victory-dirt I unabashedly sassed the catcher for fumbling around with the ball, and letting me score. But as I mocked him, I realized he was just an 85 year-old man with a long white beard. Then I felt a little bad for all of the jeering.
In another scene, Jesse Borden was showing me some cool new white linen garb he had picked up from his recent trip to India. It had all of these interesting things attached to it, like tiny whittled wood things that were actually little Indian flutes. Jesse was psyched to have such a cultural outfit with lovely musical instruments built within it. I remember thinking how “Jesse” it looked. Perfect for an African boy so wild with adventures. (His Mama would be proud.)
Then in another scene, I was in California or Florida, in a neighborhood where there were many fires spreading from some natural phenomenon. I was inside with a bunch of friends–I remember Jane, especially–and we were all having a grand time. That is, until I peered out the window and could see the fire heading towards us, and then I turned into Fire Marshall Nelly. I desperately tried to push everyone out of the house, but it took forever to convince them that there was danger, real danger, folks! They were totally lollygagging, and I was yelling at them to move. Once I finally got them shuffling, I grabbed my guitar, my laptop, and a few other odds and ends, and ran out of the house to safety. But nothing ended up happening, in the end. No fire. Just me yelling.
* (I may have played fast-pitch softball for 10 years in real life, but softball is not so much like Major League baseball.)
Oh Nelly! We are reading this at our breakfast table (same as our dinner table where we have broken bread with The Matrix many times) and laughing at your crazy brain. Sorry, no interpretations just yet, must marinade in these images a bit first.
But here’s one for you: I was dreaming the night before last and Bill Clinton showed up (I think he wanted to go on a safari) and I walked up to him and told him I was sorry that Christians are so ugly to him and he started to cry!
Lisa,
I sure miss that table. Be sure to marinade for just long enough.
That is a very excellent Bill dream. It reminds me of the dream I had once that Brittany Spears showed up at our church and I felt convicted that I ought to confess some things to her, being that she could be my sister and all. So I tracked her down in the parking lot and asked her to please forgive me for slandering her all throughout her career. She was pretty much just appalled.
It is so very easy to slaughter those crazy rich and famous until they actually show up at my home or my church…and then I ponder the fact that they are but dust just like me!!
You and Lisa have interesting dreams!