I had a very odd dream last night, and I’d like to have some help making sense of it. I was in a theater at Greenfield Village, which, to my knowledge, does not exist in real life. I was seated in the front row, to the right of the stage, with my friends Dan and Dave. We were waiting for a performance to begin. Seth Rogan was going to be taking the stage, along with a number of other people. It seemed to me that it was going to be stand-up, but I can’t be certain, as I was asked to leave before it began… As we were sitting there, waiting for things to get underway, it occurred to me that I’d be more comfortable without my pants. I pulled a blanket over my lap and discretely removed my pants. I believe I may have also removed my boxers, but that part isn’t clear. At this point, an usher approached me, and started tugging on the blanket. Seth Rogan walked onto the stage, looked at what was going on, and kind of chuckled. He may have encouraged the usher to continue what he was doing. I was struggling to keep the blanket over me, mortified that I was about to be exposed, when the usher leaned over and said to me, “Mr. Seger would like to see you,” motioning up to one of the private boxes overhead. I stood up, and he escorted me backstage, where I was told to have a seat and wait. As I waited, I wondered if I would be meeting folk singer Pete Seger, or Detroit rock legend Bob Seger. I was certain it would be one of the two, but I wasn’t sure which. At some point “Mr. Seger” came in. He looked like Steve Earle. He never introduced himself as “the” Bob Seger, but I was pretty sure that’s who it was. (A great deal of my time was spent squinting in his direction, and looking at him from different angels, trying to confirm that he was in fact who I thought that he was, but I never reached the point of 100% certainty.) We chatted. He told me that he had free reign over the Henry Ford Museum because a great many of the items they had on display were from his personal collection. We never discussed why he called me backstage, but I got the impression that he thought I had gumption for removing my pants. At least, I got this sense, from the way that he looked at me, that he was thinking, “I wanted to take off my pants too, but didn’t have the courage.” At this point, I remember worrying that I might be missing a great show, and hoping that, whatever happened with Mr. Seger, my experience would be more interesting than the one being shared out front by my friends. At this point, Mr. Seger walked me through a warehouse to van, which was parked in the middle. He lifted the back door. Inside was a small, white wall covered with artwork. It was a tiny, portable gallery. The work was clearly his. He smiled and nodded toward it, obviously proud of what he’d created. They were tiny geometric shapes made from felt, which had been stitched to one another. There was one that I kind of liked. The others left me cold. I tried to focus on the one that I liked, and started making smalltalk about folk art. I mentioned Archie Byron and Ned Cartledge, two of my friends who, when they were living, made incredible works of visionary art in Georgia. Mr. Seger nodded, handed me a brown glass bottle of beer, and left. I laid down on a roll of astroturf with my beer. A heat lamp was overhead, and it felt good. After a few minutes, a phone rang nearby. I rolled over, grabbed it, and held it to my ear. Someone on the other end said, “Dump out the beer. Museum security will be there in one minute.” I dumped the beer, and rolled the empty bottle away from where I was laying. As it came to a stop, a security guard came toward me. We exchanged a few pleasantries. I believe I was still wrapped in my blanket, but I can’t be sure. (At this point I was kicked in the head by my son. After rearranging him him the bed, I tried desperately to get back to the same dream, to no avail.)
Are any of you good at dream interpretation? I need some help.
By Mark | November 5, 2013