Waking, I Post

I don't know how to describe the feeling I get when I wake up from a dream so vivid, so abundant, so eminently weird, that I just know it could be a short story or a novel, and then I realize it might never be. I dunno, have you ever had a dream like that? One where you even love the characters in it, imaginary though they may be?

Apparently, Rod Serling (of "Twilight Zone" fame-- you know the guy-- cigarette, dark suit, head tilted, lip slightly cocked in an ominous manner-- "A dimension not of SIGHT or of SOUND but of MIND.") got plenty of his ideas from nightmares. Of which I've had more than a few in my time as well.

Right now I'm listening, for the first time, to Miles Davis' apparently much-maligned "On the Corner" album. I like it. Thick, funky, aggressive, clanging sludge. Reminds me of a funny joke:

Knock, knock.

"Who's there?"

"Miles Davis."

"Miles Davis who?"

"Fuck you, whitey."