Guest Post: Jindai Hideo is one of my life-long friends that I met in Japan during my first Air Force tour-of-duty. I asked him to pop in and post something whenever he wants to, and this is his first submission. Thanks bud, I love your first post…it’s perfect.
A Band Called Sue
I know that some people think that everything that goes on in dreams has to be interpreted, that there is some meaning for your waking life contained in the rapid firing of neurons in the subconscious. I don’t agree. I don’t think that all dreams can be included on the “This means SOMETHING” list.
Personally, I think that many times, it’s just a registration of images, sounds and sensations that you experienced in the past. From television, movies, the radio, or any other of the myriad sources of environmental noise we are subjected to on a continual basis in the 21st century.
Take for example this one I just had. (I am writing this quickly after having woken up, so I can put down as many details as I can.:)
I’m talking with a friend about life in general, and I tell him about the band I’m in. There were currently 32 members of the band, and anyone that asked could join in, at any time. We played whatever came to us, and it was good. That it came to me out of the blue, make-up of the band, the musical style, even the name. And the name was “A Band Called Sue.” It all came to me out of the blue, a “Divine Inspiration,” as it were.
(Even in this rather specific dream, there was a lot of vague imagery, so I don’t know how things went from that discussion to the next point, but isn’t that typical of dreams?)
Next thing, I’m digging through a memory-box of some type, finding papers and momentos and tokens of the past, and I come across a document that has the words “My Band” on it. From all appearances it was written while I was not fully conscious in some way. (As I don’t drink or do drugs in real life, I can only assume I’m a pot-head in my dreams, because that was my thought in the dream. “I must have been wasted when I wrote this, because I don’t remember it!”) On it, in rather haphazard fashion, was written, “Let anyone that wants to play, play.” and “Don’t exclude any instrument . . . except maybe bagpipes.” So far, so good. And a few slightly less legible entries that seemed to agree with what I was doing already, and then the final entry. Big print, in something reddish. (I must have stolen someone’s lipstick.) NAME OF THE BAND! IMPORTANT, DON’T FORGET!!! (Yes, three exclamation points. I told you this was a fairly specific dream.): “A Blind Segue”
Okay, I don’t play an instrument, I don’t even HAVE 32 friends living near me at the moment, and I haven’t drunk-written anything, ever. I like the Johnny Cash song “A Boy Named Sue” for the simple reason that it’s goofy and funny and serious all at once. But, seriously, “A Blind Segue?” What kind of name for a band is THAT?
Evidently, in my dreams, while drunk in my dreams, I’m a VERY serious artsy-fartsy person. At least I ended up forgetting that name and going with the even more comical one. At least I could laugh at that one without irony.
But what does that have to so with my waking life? Not a damn thing. It’s not even enough of an idea to make a short story or novel with. It’s not even good enough for a decent video short, were I a director of such things.
So, no, I don’t need to interpret that one. I don’t think it’s important. I think it’s amusing, and fun to think about the dream itself, on its own terms. And I will allow that since I have written it down, there might come some point in the future that I do find significance in this dream. But for now, I still assert that dreams are just fancies, and in any case, for a band name, “A Blind Segue” is just a stupid idea.