So last night we were having a party. Nothing special, just a few friends over to the house like we occasionally do. A few folks in the kitchen hanging out snacking on hors d’oeuvres, some friends in the living room gathered around the turntables looking through my records.
Apparently, everyone had been vaccinated, because no one was wearing masks or showing any signs of worrying about covid. We were all standing around in small groups and people were greeting each other with hugs, just chatting away.
All of a sudden, Nancy Pelosi walks up to me and announces that she wants to smoke a cigarette. I’m like, “Ok, whatever” and she heads to the sliding door at the rear of our living room. I see her start to walk outside when I notice that it’s pouring rain outside.
“Wait! Hang on!” I holler and run over to her and grab her elbow. “It’s raining, you can smoke in the garage, follow me” Our garage has been in the midst of an ongoing revamp, with my daughter setting up a TV and an extra seat from my van, making it into her little rec room hangout.
Now Nancy, being a somewhat older and rather diminutive woman, is easy to guide through the kitchen and out the side door into the garage. She takes a seat and leans back on a couch by the back wall and I sit down next to her. I’m stoked because even though she is about to light up a cigarette, (I abhor tobacco) I’ll have a chance to talk with her one-to-one.
It’s no secret that I’ve long been a huge fan of hers. What with her standing up against all of the nonsense The Former Guy spewed out over the past four years and then knowing she had to practically go teeth to teeth with the Coup Klux Klan when they stormed The Capitol on January 6th, it’s obvious to me that she has a backbone made of steel.
So I’m kicking back with Nancy Pelosi on a couch in my garage when she lights up–only it’s not a cigarette, she’s smoking a joint! I’m like “Wow! I had no idea that Nancy Pelosi smoked pot!” when she passes it over to me. Now, it’s been more than a few years since I’ve indulged in smoking the Herb Superb, but since it’s Nancy Pelosi and it’s a special occasion and all, I figure, hey, why not?
The problem is, the joint that she’s trying to light is rolled really badly and is falling apart. She can barely get it lit. She passes it over to me, and I finally give up and help her roll a new one. This one isn’t much better, but we do manage to get it going and pass it back and forth a couple of times.
This is when it gets deep. Nancy starts breaking down some time-tested philosophy for me. “The main thing in life,” she says “Is to really go for it. Once you decide to put your heart into something, give it your best shot. Don’t give the haters a second thought.”
“Wow!” I’m thinking. “Words of wisdom straight from The Speaker’s mouth!” It’s definitely a lucky day when someone of her stature offers you a bit of advice. The first time I can remember it happening to me was some years ago when Mick Jagger told me I needed to lighten up and not take things so seriously.
Just like that, we’re back at the party, only now there’s a big bulletin board with some flyers posted on it. I’m thinking “This is great! Now that covid is finally starting to recede, people can plan things again!” I’m looking at the board reading the flyers when I see one for a four-day-long festival featuring Jen Psaki and her band.
I’m flabbergasted! I had no idea that the White House Press Secretary was the singer for a post-punk folk band, it makes perfect sense! She’s done such a remarkable job bringing sanity, honesty, and levity back to the White House briefing room that finding out that she moonlights onstage with a mic in her hand is a no-brainer. Plus the flyer promised there would be ample time for conversation and discussion. I start looking around to see if Jen is at the party…
…when… CRASH! I’m woken up with a loud thud from downstairs. Wait, what? Nancy, Jen, where are you? Was this all just a dream? Ah, well. Worth remembering at any rate. Off I go back to sleep.
This morning I find our huge Schefflera knocked off the stereo speaker onto the floor with a few potted orchids. Along with Ozzie, our sweet and loving black cat with the soul of the devil, looking nonplussed and very pleased with himself.
All this gives rise to the question: What if sleep and our dream state are actually our default, and all of our waking day-to-day activities are simply there to keep us supplied with fodder for our subconscious?
Something to think about…
Much love till next Monday!
Director of the Dance First Association
Publisher of Conscious Dancer Magazine