A Thanksgiving Dream

This is a dream I just had a few minutes ago. I wanted to write it down while it was fresh in my mind. I was in a different city (that seemed a little like Seattle or Portland, both cities in which I have lived) visiting my friend Jonathan (who in fact lives in neither Seattle nor Portland). He and his bother and I were going someplace together that night, like some kind of event that started at a particular time. His brother was a fictional dream creation. The real Jonathan has two brothers, both of whom I know. But this brother was neither of them. But in dream logic, I simply accepted and believed that this stranger was Jonathan’s brother. We piled into his brother’s car and started driving.

At some point, I was separated from them, in a funky, tight-packed neighborhood that had a leafy, bohemian vibe. But I was in contact with Jonathan by phone. We were trying to find each other. I was at the end of a street where in T-intersected with another street. I described my location to Jonathan, and he knew where I was. He said he would meet me there. I turned left onto onto the T, and was walking up the street which turned into someone’s private drive. I walked into a stranger’s back yard. It was cluttered, and on a table on the back porch were stacked a bunch of paintings. They seemed like acrylic on paper. I was curious, naturally, and went to take a look. One of them was painted on the cover of a magazine—the artist had painted his own fictional cover for the magazine. It seemed less a finished idea than kind of a goof. The style was somewhat rough-hewn but the image was good. It felt like a witty sketch, a parody of a magazine cover. The other paintings were in a similarly rough, sketch-like style. I was impressed by them.

I noticed a guy in the house—I could see him through his kitchen window. I figured I better leave since I was in his yard, uninvited. I walked away. I mentioned to Jonathan on the phone that I had stumbled across these paintings and they were really good. Jonathan, who had been trying to catch up to me, actually found the paintings and was looking at them, and accidentally ripped one of them. The artist saw him and came out to confront him (I was hearing about this over the phone). Jonathan, wishing to avoid conflict, walked rapidly, guiltily away. He decided that discretion was the better part of valor and slipped into the open door of a different house to avoid the wrath of the artist whose artwork he had damaged.

By this point, we were physically close to each other, when I heard Jonathan exclaim from inside the house, “Joe Walsh! Oh my god! I had no idea you lived here.” He had accidentally walked into former Eagles bandmember Joe Walsh’s modest house. Then I heard him exclaim, “Diane Lane!” Apparently in this dream wold, Joe Walsh and Diane Lane were married and living in this modest, funky neighborhood.

As this was happening, I kept thinking, Jonathan—you need to get over being starstruck and get the hell out before the artist comes and kicks your ass. The artist was stalking down the road—I could see him now, looking angry. There were other people walking in the neighborhood when Jonathan’s wife, Jessica, appeared from the crowd. In real life, Jonathan and Jessica have never met. In fact, I was at both of their weddings, to different people at different times, separated by decades. I know their actual spouses.

But when Jessica emerged from the crowd, it wasn’t Jessica at all, but a third friend of mine, Emily. In my dream she went by Jessica.The real-life Emily and real-life Jessica don’t know each other at all, but had merged in some way that made perfect sense in my dream world. The angry artist knew Jessica, and even though he didn’t know me, he knew of me through his friendship with Jessica. So we talked and he cooled down. He seemed like a nice guy.

Jessica and I walked away and soon came across Jonathan’s brother in his car. We waited for Jonathan to get done fanboying, so we could all go away.

The various characters in this dream were mostly people I knew in real life (or knew of):

Jonathan, one of my oldest friends who I met in junior high, now lives in Israel.

Jessica, a cartoonist, with whose work I became aware while living in Seattle and whom I met in person in Chicago in the 90s, lives in France.

Emily, an artist, I met a little over 10 years ago here in Houston.

Joe Walsh, I have strong memories of his hit singles in high school like “Life’s Been Good”.

Diane Lane, I know as a movie star, who I first saw in the movie Cotton Club in 1984 when I was in college.

Somehow, the dream-making part of my mind knew I would like to hang with my friends from different periods of my life (and different continents). So it arranged for it to happen. It was beautiful.