Eight Feet Deep

If I really knew what dreams meant I would … Okay. I don’t know what I would do and I am not sure I really want to know what dreams mean. That said, it seems odd to me that some people have the same dream as others, albeit with certain variations. One common recurring that I have had over the years and have known others who share this dream involves facing a final test in college for a class you had signed up for but never attended the entire semester.

This morning I had this dream twice in two different rounds of sleeping.

I awoke around 5:00 a.m. after dreaming I had enrolled in two classes — a history class and business course — but I did not go to those classes during that term. The finals for those tests were looming and I was trying to find the book for at least one class in order to cram. Someone, a friend as best I can recall, had the book I was seeking but it involved driving to El Campo, Texas, to pick it up.

For some reason, I thought El Campo was in the Panhandle in my dream. It’s really about 70 miles southwest of Houston. The thing is, I don’t even remember where I was in this dream. The school looked more like a high school than a college because some of the corridors had lockers.

If the setting had taken place at my alma mater, Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogodoches, then El Campo would be about a 190-mile road trip. Regardless of where I thought El Campo was located in my dream, I figured the town was too far to retrieve a book so I decided to take the test without it.

About 6:45 a.m. I woke up again. This time I had dreamed the same dream about finals taking place in classes I didn’t bother to attend. I found the class and took a seat. The students in the class all seemed to look at me and were wondering, who is this guy? I then began thinking about what would be the consequences if I failed these two classes by not attending and flunking the final? Suddenly, it dawned on me that I had already graduated from college and had a degree, so who cares if I bombed the finals.

Perhaps my second dream was intended to seek resolution of my quandary from the first dream. Or maybe the repeated dream was because I had run out of my dream quota for the night’s sleep. I don’t know. It’s all a nocturnal mystery to me and I am happy to let it remain that way.

I just finished watching the debate between the four candidates for Texas governor. I seriously am thinking about moving to Nebraska. No, not really. The debate was entertaining especially with Kinky Friedman saying:

“I don’t use the Internet — I think it’s the work of Satan.”

What was the Kinkster smoking tonight? I think his cigar must be loaded or he was loaded or both. He also said Sam Houston was an opium addict. Maybe he was. Maybe not. It was before my time. I think Friedman was pulling our leg. Or pulling something.

Gov. Goodhair was slick as a Texas toll road after an ice storm. He must have practiced.

This was the first time I have ever heard Democratic candidate Chris Bell speak. I thought he was some sort of peyote vision that the Texas Democratic party had, but damned if he doesn’t really exist!

The ever goofy Carole Keeton McClellan Rylander Strayhorn Bonaparte Zavala von Hindenburng was, well, ever goofy. If only her son Scotty McClellan had been that entertaining as presidential press secretary.

The debate was an hour of my life I will never get back.

This nugget from AP:

SYDNEY, Australia – A 22-year-old man attempted to drive 310 miles in reverse on a remote Outback highway after his transmission failed, blocking his forward gears, police said Friday. The man was stopped by Western Australia state police on Thursday afternoon after they spotted his car roaring in reverse down the highway at about 40 mph, according to a statement.

I guess the guy wanted to see where he’s been.

Goodbye Yogi. Hello ee cummings.

I chose the above cummings quote because I tend to agree with the statement. Hearing, seeing or doing something funny are perhaps among the most profound experiences human beings have. Even people and situations which aren’t funny can make one laugh.

Having worked as both a firefighter and a crime reporter, I’ve heard and laughed at all manners of inappropriate jokes and comments made under less than cheerful circumstances. No one would want to see emergency personnel yucking it up at a fatal car wreck or bad fire. But jokes do pass through the lips of EMTs, firefighters, cops and even reporters at what might be a tragic scene. This gallows humor is a coping mechanism that may not seem quite right to an outsider (and definitely not to a victim or their family) but sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying. Of course, situations also exist where you may find yourself both laughing and crying.

One of my nieces is a volunteer firefighter in East Texas. She sent me this hilarious e-mail the other day which was a faux memorandum about how first responders should can the creativity when writing up their incident reports. For instance:

“Trauma patients are not FDGB (fall down, go boom), TBC (total body crunch) or “Hamburger Helper.” Similarly, descriptions of a car crash should not have include phrases like “negative vehicle-to-vehicle interface” or “terminal deceleration syndrome.”

“Hazmat teams are highly trained professionals, not “glow worms” or “little green men.” Police officers are not “guntoters” or “holster huggers.” Also, police officers injured at Hazmat scenes are victims or patients NOT “Copological Indicators” or “Blue Canaries.”

“Persons with altered mental states as a result of drug use are not considered “pharmaceutically gifted.” Gunshot wounds to the head are not “trans-occipital implants” or “negative bullet to head interface.”

“And finally, do not refer to recently deceased persons as being “paws up,” ART (assuming room temperature), CC (Cancel Christmas), DRT (Dead Right There), CTD (circling the drain), or NLPR (no long playing records).”

Yes, it’s rather sick humor but it’s humor and sometimes you just have to laugh.

Apparently no one — at least in the news media — is allowed to make a mistake anymore. The latest outbreak of sanctimony was started when Mark Foley — of the congressional page IM scandal fame — was labeled on Fox News’ “O’Reilly Factor” as a Democrat rather than Republican. Of course, Fox being the official network for Bush and the GOP has it coming and it is understandable how people might think that the error was intentional and not just a mistake.

Now more outrage bubbles up as the Associated Press incorrectly identified U.S. House Speaker Dennis Hastert as a Democrat. Off with their heads!

Bitching about mistakes in print or on the air is nothing new. I’ve had many calls about a misspelling or a wrong word or even — yes I committed the mortal sin — incorrectly labeling lawmakers as a Democrat when they were a Republican. I remember once how Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison’s people got their knickers in a wad once when I made that error. But it was an error, and yes the editors the story went through failed to notice it. Bunch of KBH haters!

What is funny about the sanctimony in the blogosphere is if you read comments on some of these blogs by people on their high horse about mistakes, you will sometime notice (God forbid) mistakes in their spelling such as this comment on “Crooks and Liars:”

“How long til Rumsfeld is a Democrat..”

So if I happen to make a mistake here, sue me. People really need to get a life.