Since the summer of 2006, I have had a recurring dream.  I think its the first recurring dream I've ever had.  The details are a little different every time, but the same general conflict always comes up, and produces the same emotional response. 
Unfortunately, I have long since abandoned any attempt to keep a dream journal, so I can't provide details for every incident, but I know I have had this dream enough times for it to really get to me.

Last night, I had it again.

Last night's dream session was pretty long, consisting of two acts.  I can't remember anything from the first half, other than this vague feeling that it explained how I got to the state I was in, for the second half.

The recurring element is this: I am just about to graduate college.  I'm so close to graduating that the commencement ceremony is that upcoming weekend, and my parents are coming up for it.  No one has gotten their grades yet, but everything is closed up, so the actual ending of the academic semester is basically a formality waiting to happen.  

And then it hits me like a freight train: I have blown off an entire class, and its necessary course work.  
I blew it off because I was just done with school, academia, the path I was on, everything... and I just zoned out.  
And because its college, and we're all grown ups and take responsibility for our own actions - no one - attempted to put me back on the track.  
So it occurs to me, at the last possible minute, that my apathy has cost me seriously.  I panic; I wonder if it will be really bad.  Can I appeal this?  How do I explain to my family that I'm not graduating?  I can't afford any more time at the school, so I will just leave it... incomplete.  
The panic and the confusion overwhelms me.  So much so that when I wake up, I feel anxious and uncomfortable.

Sometimes I've been so disoriented by it, that I don't know where I am or what day it is, and I might still have time to fix it - like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas Day.  
Even with my eyes wide open and fully awake, it still takes several minutes for my sub-conscious to settle down and realize that I did in fact graduate college in the spring of 2006.  
Again, I don't really remember too many of the specific details of the previous dreams.  One time, I think I actually showed up to the last session of the class in question, and realized in front of everyone.  Another time, it was a U.S. History class I brushed off and forgot about (and believe me, the irony was not lost on me).    

So now onto last night:  I don't remember the first act, but I know it somehow leads to me the second act (think Dr. House in the strip club, after the bus accident).
I am with my toddler son.  He is old enough to have a tuft of curly, blonde hair on his head and talk, but he is still discovering everything for the first time.
I am sitting on a couch in what looks like a student lounge, and my son is sitting on my lap.  There are other people in the room talking non-descriptively, and the TV is on but no one is paying attention to it.  To my right are my good friends George Carlin and Elvis Costello (I think its Elvis, that detail has gotten hazy since I woke up).  We're chatting, and then we decide to get high.  Luckily, George has enough joints for all three of us.
So I am sitting there getting high, with my son on my lap.  He's asking me questions about the pot, and I try to explain that its something grown-ups do.  And more importantly, he shouldn't tell his mom that he saw me doing this.  I am courteous enough to not blow smoke in his face.  And in my head I am thinking "Wow, I really can't keep getting high now that I have a kid.  I really need to curb this shit."

And that's when the missing class realization occurs to me. 
*In this dream, it was some sort of media seminar.  And the teacher is Peg Aloi - who I had for my "British Cinema" class, in the waking life.  Apparently, this is my dream self's second class with her because I already know there is no way she will accept any last minute, diploma-saving appeals.*

And then I panic:
My wife is coming back from some activity in a few minutes, and there is no way I can effectively disguise my stoned-ness without looking suspect.  And I know my son in his naive, young nature will mention what I was doing to her - unless I am always hovering over him protecting this lie for the rest of my life - which is no way for a father to behave.
I start to imagine what my wife will say when she finds out how badly I screwed up my studies.  She'll blame it all on the pot.  Then she'll point out how quickly she adapted and matured after being thrust into the mother role, and accuse me of refusing to grow up.  And then I start to think this might finally be the thing that causes me to lose her.  Then I realize that my parents will justifiably not bail me out of this, and that I will have to deal with years of serious financial debt to them and the school.  And then I start to yell at myself for getting so high, and becoming irrationally paranoid.  And finally I beg George and Elvis to help defend my character, when the inevitable storm approaches.  Of course they'll help me; they're my best friends and what I did isn't *that* bad.

And that's when I woke up this morning...

Observations...
* I'm pretty sure that it was Elvis Costello.  I've been listening to "My Aim is True" pretty heavily for the past couple of days.  And I've been contemplating Rick Moody's comment that he understands "what it's like to be judged by the riotous feelings of your younger incarnation, like Elvis Costello is."
* Obviously, this dream has only been re-occuring since I graduated college.  Which I guess would mean, sub-consciously, I feel like I have unfinished business.  I definitely wish I had more time to pursue more classes and explore more corners of academia, but at the same time I don't feel like putting up with the labor of grad-school.  I certainly hope its not a case of Neverland Syndrome.
* All the father/husband details are new.  Also, whenever the dream happens I am portrayed as my current self.  When it started, I was 23.  But last night, I was a 25 year old senior, with my same long hair and black hoodie.
*Where the fuck did George Carlin come from?
* I could tie a lot of it together with the same sub-conscious anxieties.  Say "don't worry about them so much" and move on.  But everything was visualized with such crystal-clearness, that it can't be that simplistic and heavy-handed.  Plus, could the whole pot thing could be screamed any louder to me?  I'm sure there are deeper layers of the onion to peel away.  If for nothing else, I'm still so intrigued by the nature of dreams that I don't want to be such a wet blanket and de-mystify the whole thing, just for the sake of re-assuring myself that I'm a know-it-all.      
* For what's it worth, in my last semester at Emerson, I blew off a pretty important class.  It was only for the first two weeks and the teacher really got on my case about the danger of failing from the get-go.  At the time, I couldn't verbalize why the burn-out happened, and I wanted her to understand that it was never meant to be a sign of disrespect.  I probably still don't completely know where the apathy came from - especially since it was the class I had been most excited for, for a good 18 months.  I couldn't get past her first impression of me as a burn-out - so I approached the whole semester more neurotically than I would have liked (big surprise I know).      
* I'm not sure how often I have this dream.  I know I have had it at least once this year (I think maybe sometime in the summer).  I should say on average, I have it seasonally, which is a pretty fucked way of doing a mental tally. 
* When/if I finally get over it, I wonder if it will completely vanish from my brain.  Or will it linger in some hidden corner of my mind waiting to jump out and terrify me with a monster-like effectiveness?
* Fuck, I did not intend to stay up until 3:30 am writing this.
* If it provides any extra insight: my wife was played by Natalie Portman.

I used to be in the Cub Scouts; the prepubescent version of the Boy Scouts.

We used to have our weekly meetings at Holy Angels, the Catholic grade school I attended.

Being at school at night was an odd feeling; darkness crept in through the windows, to clash with the fluorescent lights. Maybe - just maybe - you would see a teacher still lingering around, ready to go home, acting like a completely different person. Every time you walked the halls, it felt forbidden.

It was an entirely different world waiting to be discovered.

After a certain while, our Cub Scout meetings were moved to a junior high in Wilmington. It may have been a "too old to meet at the grade school" thing, it may have simply been a free space thing.

I can't remember the exact reason why we moved, but whatever perverse thrill we had in re-discovering the night-time world of our grade school, was overwhelmed by the eerie quiet of teenage intimidation, that this new location possessed.
This place was huge and weird and there was something in the air that we weren't able to articulate.

There was one meeting that ended early. While we waited for our parents to show up and take us home, the den-master let us go do whatever we wanted, free to roam the halls.

So our pack of Webelos wandered down the empty halls. The darkness crept in through the windows, clashing with the fluorescent lights. We hit upon a long stretch of corridor, when we heard... a sound.

We traveled down a long, dimly-lit corridor following a sound that seemed familiar and yet completely new.

We peered into an open doorway, bundled together in our brown shirts and sashes, to see a sight that was pretty much the most fantastic sight of 1995.

The Holy Angels' Girls Volleyball Team.

Sharing the same, giant empty teenage space as our den of scouts. A squadron of girls that were familiar, but looked completely alien in this night-time world. Practicing and shouting and laughing in this giant gymnasium, their voices echoing all the way down a teenage hallway.

We slowly lingered in to say "hi" to girls we would see in a few hours of elementary school, but really we went in to digest these new surroundings. Our pack of 11 year old boys was witnessing something special; it was like seeing a comet shoot across the night sky. If you didn't just shut up and take it in, you would probably never get the same set of circumstances ever again.

It was an odd clash of off-the-clock boy and girl interaction.
The girls laughed and played and talked to us and tried to find out what we were doing in that junior high school and why we were walking in on their practice. We stood there and (probably) awkwardly said something.

Their coach came over and shooed us away. We ran out into the hall hearing the girls' laugh echo after us in that long, dimly-lit corridor.

I made my way back to the official Cub Scout meeting space, to see my dad waiting for me. "Ready to go?"

So I left the meeting, never discussing what just happened to anyone. My 11 year old adrenaline was pumping in a way that left me completely bewildered.

But I'm pretty sure on that night in that intimidating junior hight school... that my entire 90s adolescence exploded in my head.

... has an account at my video store.

He has $270.63 in late fees.

For My Kid Could Paint That, Great World of Sound, Confessions of a Superhero, The Mist, and Superbad.

Eric, what's good in life?

Having control of a huge video store in Los Feliz (all to myself) and starting the day off the right way:

 

UPDATE: 10:55am

UPDATE: 12:40pm

UPDATE: 12:40 pm

So I'm leaving for LA tonight.  I'm going to be on the road for the next week or so.

Unfortunately, this means I'm going to be pretty much unable to talk in that time.

Unless its a work situation or a family call, or urgent news (good or bad) I can't take your call.

But when I arrive at my end destination in the middle of the month, I'll give you a call.


Promise.

Hey Eric, what's this I hear about you moving to Los Angeles?
Oh um, yeah.  I'm moving to Los Angeles.

When did you decide this?
At Jake, Kurt, Willie, and Topher's party back in May, actually.  As the night (and week crashing with them) went on, I realized I was missing out on something fun on a daily basis.  And I finally realized "You know, it would be real dumb to not even at least try living in L.A. before I totally brush it off."

Wait, it took you that long to realize that simple fact?
Yeah, I'm kind of slow on the up-take.

So where are you going to live out there?
Well, I'm going to live with Kurt and Dan, actually.  It's going to be pretty sweet.

Heeeey... didn't you say something about moving to L.A. last year?
Yeah, I was planning on it, but plans fell through.  So I stayed home and figured out my next step.  Actually, I spent the rest of 2006 watching a lot of "Law and Order: Criminal Intent."  Then when it became 2007, I said to myself "Alright, now I need to figure out my next step." 

You've done nothing but slack off, bounce around jobs, and live with your parents for the last 18 months.  Why should I think you're committed now?
I don't know, actually.  But I did make this plan back in May, and told my potential roommates about it.  At this stage in the game, it would be mighty douchey to chicken-out again.   And you know, I miss my friends who are out there.

Yeah, well... I'll believe it, when I see it.
Okay.

I mean didn't you plan on moving to New York for awhile, too?
Yeah, I wrote out L.A. for awhile because I was so broke, so unemployed, so directionless - that I didn't see how I could ever get out there.  NYC provided its own interesting challenge, and it still has lots of appeal.  But once I realized that I wasn't going to accomplish anything in 2007; that this year would be about slowly re-grouping, and just stepping back and figuring things out, I realized "fuck it, just get to L.A. in January 2008.  At least try it, and then hate it.  Then everybody can get off your back.  If you're going to aim, aim high."   That sort of deal.

Okay, wait January 2008?
Yeah, I'm leaving in a few weeks.

Holy christ dude, that's like two weeks from now?!  Were you ever going to let me in on your little secret?
I know, I know, I haven't really told a lot of people about it.

Why not?  This is a big decision!
Again, I know.  It's just... my initial plans kept falling through, and I didn't know what I wanted to do.  And I kept talking about my direction to everyone and it kept changing, and I just felt like a flake.  And then I figured, "Just keep your mouth shut from now on."  If I was going to commit to this plan, I actually needed to get to work on it - so I just quietly started getting my shit together.  I also genuinely fear that by prematurely talking about it, I'm going to jinx it - and I don't want that. 
Plus, I didn't want to harp on it, you know?  I didn't want to be around and have this weird, looming countdown over us.  I just wanted to enjoy each moment as it came, and not really worry about the future.   I didn't want to make a big deal out of the whole thing.   I had a blast once the spring hit; it felt good to decompress and sit back and just listen.  It's so much better to listen than it is to talk. 
But you're right... it is really douchey that I'm just now getting around to telling you about this.  I messed up in that regard.  Although, in my defense (somewhat) I've been pretty busy at work since like... um, September?  I don't even remember.  I work two jobs; it tends to knock me out once I'm on my own time.  Plus, I've been watching a lot of "Law and Order: Special Victims Unit." 

You don't talk to me now, and we live on the same coast!  How do you expect us to keep in touch?
I know I'm really bad at getting back to you, but its nothing intentionally malicious.  It's just really easy for me to get lost in the quiet of my own head.  That makes no sense, at all, but it sounds better than saying "I space out a lot."  I like quiet moods.  But I am thinking about you. 
I don't know; I'm not worried.  You're my friend.  I will make the effort.  Even if it takes two months. 

Fine, okay, whatever.  So what's your big plan in L.A. then?
I don't know.  I don't have a 10 year plan for my life; I don't have a 5 year plan.  I've got a 2008 plan, and it consists of: paying the rent and bills without getting an ulcer every month, still being able to enjoy a beer or movie here or there, hanging out with friends I haven't seen in awhile, and doing creative things with them. 

That's it?
Yeah.

I thought you hated L.A.?
I still do; its not my city, at all.  I'm not going there to enjoy the sun or meet new people.  Honestly,  I think Boston is the city that fits my pace. But, and I know this sounds corny, I do believe in Calvin's dad, when he says things like this "build character."

And you actually think, you're going to make it as some successful writer/comedian/Steve Martin-knock off?
Nah, not at all.  But I do like working with the guys in L.A.  And it's been awhile.   And I need to get back in the swing of doing comedy, writing, performing.  It's fun.
That being said, I will sell out in a heartbeat, if it means never having to work again.

But aren't you nervous?
I'm fucking terrified.

So when do you think you're coming back?
I don't know.  My plan for 2008 is L.A. that might be my 2009 plan as well.  Let's not worry about that.  I'll be home for Christmas; I'm going to want to see my family.  Let's plan something then.  If I have the money and time, I'll come visit. 
I might be back on the east coast next year.  Maybe I'll be serious about New York then.  I could be back in 3 months, if it turns out to be a disaster. 
We'll see.  I'm moving, not dying.

So when can I see you?
Well, if you're in the mid-Atlantic area, you should come to this party Mark and I are throwing are on Saturday.  I don't know what my work schedule is going to be like; I need to raise cash until the last possible minute.  Plus I do want to spend as much time with my family, as possible.  So I don't know how many free days I'll have.  But my goal this Saturday is to hang out and have a lot of fun.  
It tentatively looks like I'm going to be in Boston for New Year's.  I'm doing stand-up and there's this karaoke place, I really love.  Plus, Boston is awesome.  Maybe we can hang out then.
And if you're in L.A.... well you're going to see a lot of me, soon enough.

Huh.  I guess that's it then.
It's not "it."  Don't make it sound so foreboding.

Is there anything else you need to tell me?
Yeah, I really will miss you.  Seriously.  I don't like that the people I care about, are scattered around the world.  I wish we all just lived a few minutes away from each other.  But such is life, I guess.

Alright then, do you have to go start packing or something? 
Probably not.  I'm kind of tired actually.  I just feel like kicking back and watching some TV.  I've been watching a lot of "Monk" and I'm really getting into it.

Wait... you're just starting to get into Monk?
Yeah, I know... its pathetic.

* Why is "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" for kids?  I know its wonderful and timeless and excellent and all that, but its a a half-hour of kids being dumped on like adults. 
"Charlie Brown, if you got an invitation, it was a mistake. There were two lists, Charlie Brown: one to invite, and one not to invite. You must have been put on the wrong list. " 
Still great though.

* The top 3 costumes for men:
1.) Leonidas
2.) Captain Jack Sparrow
3.) Didn't attempt a costume, except for maybe a goofy jacket or something, and even then, they took it off because the party was hot, crowded, and sweaty.

* The top 3 costumes for women:
1.) Whore Sexy version of Occupation (i.e. Sexy Nurse, Sexy Cowgirl, Sexy California Highway Patrol - which isn't my douchey, jokey answer.  There really was a Sexy CHiP)
2.) Whore Britney Spears
3.) Whore Prostitute (usually went in group, with male friend as pimp.)

* The "sexy version of an occupation" as a costume really has to stop.   I get it: you want attention, but you have no other way of accomplishing that.  The problem is, you're creating a situation where a guy dressed as Elmo is all over you.  It's a human trainwreck of epic proportions.  Can we just have one holiday where it isn't everyone's goal to just get fucked up and screw around?  That's what St. Patrick's Day, New Year's Eve, 4th of July, Memorial Day, Labor Day, Mardi Gras, Cinco de Mayo, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday are for. 

* I saw more than one guy dressed as Quail-Man.  Really?  Quail-Man? 

* I saw only one guy dressed as Austin Powers.  It's so dated and out-of-touch that it actually feels refreshing.  

* I saw more than one guy emulate the "Dick in the Box" sketch from Saturday Night Live.  First off, what's in the box?  Either you don't commit to the gag, and are totally lame, or you do commit to the gag - and you're probably a date rapist. 
Second of all, you're a douchebag.
Third of all, wearing a mask gave me a lot of obnoxious freedom because every time I saw a "Dick in the Box" guy I started calling him "Chronicles of Narnia." 

* Speaking of which, the best way to piss off somebody at Halloween, is to pretend you have no clue what their costume is (i.e. me calling the Cat in the Hat, "the Grinch," calling a girl dressed as Amy Winehouse "Victoria Beckham.")

* I cut my elbow when Mark dared me to leap through a pizza place window and scare all the drunk people.  Totally worth it.

* The entire town of New Brunswick does not know who Teen Wolf is.  And yet, they've all heard of Tartuffe.  ... unbelievable...  

* Parents actually take their kids to go trick-or-treating in a mall.  A mall.  And then while they're there, they impulse-buy worthless shit.  Give it a rest, for one day a year.  Fucking pigs.

* While taking my brother and sister trick-or-treating, we came across a kid who informed us that one house up ahead "had nobody home, but they left a bowl of candy on the front step." 
I was so glad to witness the Kid-Information-Network in progress; alerting one another to where the free candy was located.
We get to the house and see the bowl of candy resting on a scarecrow dummy's lap in a rocking chair.   We get up to the chair...

... and the scarecrow leaps up at us! 

It's actually a person posing as a dummy.  Even I was scared.  This wasn't a moment of the K.I.N. in action; it was an elaborate two-kid ruse designed to scare the older kids.

Well played. 

* Gets a B - for Halloween entertainment: AMC (less "Halloween 6: The Curse of Michael Myers" and "Friday the 13th: The New Blood,"  more "Halloween 1" and "Cat People." 
Gets a C+: Turner Classic Movies (too much boring Corman)
Gets a B+: Sci-Fi Channel (I'm a sucker for live 6 hour marathon of "Ghost Hunters")

* I saw a group of high-schoolers (or 8th graders, maybe) dressed as the Taliban, or Al-Qaeda, or just generic terrorists.  Camouflage jackets, turbans, toy guns.  I don't get indignant at stuff like that, although I wonder if they went to my neighbor across the street (who's husband died in 9-11).
But, like, what are they rebelling against?  Halloween?  The establishment of adults giving them candy?   What exactly are they trying to ruin with their "shocking behavior"?

God, I hope they got hit by a car or something.

Although, if its any consolation, I'm sure they all have miserable lives at home. 

* I saw more than one kid dressed as Rey Mysterio.  That's kind of awesome (the earliest costume, I ever remember going as was Hulk Hogan). 

* The top 3 costumes for girls:
1.) Some Disney princess
2.) Some other Disney princess
3.) Another Disney princess

* The top 3 costumes for boys:
1.) Spider-Man
2.) Capt. Jack/generic pirate
3.) Superman - but not the traditional Superman costume.  Its actually a costume of the suit from "Superman Returns."  Kids clearly love Superman, and yet Warner Bros. has no idea how to give them a Superman that isn't totally boring.  Also, "Superman Returns" came out last summer, and that costume is still on the racks?  I guess WB needs to make a profit off of it, somehow. 

* Freddy Krueger still has some legs, as I saw a couple kids dressed as him.  Kids who have probably never seen a movie of his (except for maybe "Freddy vs. Jason").  I'll chalk that up to the awesome design - its got staying power.

* Same goes for the killer from "Scream."  Is that what that thing is called officially? Holy shit, that thing is 10 years old, and its worn by seven-year olds. 

* November 1 is the most sobering day of the year.  It's worse than the day after Christmas.  Because at least people will acknowledge that Christmas happened the day before.  But everything remotely Halloween is just shunted away; everyone can't wait to take down decorations, stores are all set for Christmas, and people are already frustrated by lack of Christmas merchandise available to them.   Good luck trying to hear "Werewolf of London" on the radio.

* There were some genuinely creepy streets in my neighborhood.  Too dimly lit, scattered toilet paper would rustle in the wind, dead, crushed leave scattered everywhere.  Then one or two kids would run by, dashing in a hurry, for no discernible reason. 
Thank god there are still nights like that, on streets like that.

* Keeping everybody safe this year:
  
 

Amazingly, outside of Mark, I haven't heard any of my hipster friends talking about "Strawberry Jam." I guess everyone is too busy jacking it to the Arcade Fire to even notice.

Speaking as someone who: devoured "Sung Tongs," never gave "Feels" the intense listen it deserves, and just hasn't heard the solo stuff, I can safely say that finally seeing Animal Collective live is like... wow.

I got to see their last American tour date for awhile, this past Monday. They're off in Europe now. Since I had a certain image in my head of what they sounded like, I'm proud to say that they blew it out of the water.

In fact, it might have been the most euphoric, insane, cosmic - and best(?) - concert experience I've ever had.

Considering the tickets were only 20 bucks, and the place was packed, and they're already out of the country, you missed out on seeing something important.

Seriously, I would say they are now at where Radiohead was when "Kid A" came out. You just haven't been paying attention.

"Whoa, Eric that's a pretty big claim to make."

Well, I was there and it was a pretty amazing show.

"Yeah, but I make more money than you, so your opinion doesn't count."

Oh, okay.

By the way, here is someone's camera phone recording of the show, which captured a whole lot of Mark and I, being gay for Animal Collective.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAMWynY0wlk