Originally Posted by
sodascouts
OK. I had this longer dream a couple nights ago. There was a whole big long part of this dream that didn't involve any Eagles, so we'll skip that and I'll just sum it up: in that part of the dream, I was traveling to something really important with my cousin in LA and my sisters, and bad things keep happening to us and we're always thisclose to something stopping us (weather, confusion, getting lost, missing taxis, etc) but somehow we keep pressing on. Unfortunately because we're all stressed we are getting tense. There's an incident at the airport restaurant where we argue over who will put the shared appetizer of fried cheese on their bill that is the last straw. I say "Screw this, I'm going on alone!"
I march out of the restaurant, suitcase in hand, and towards the exit of the airport. While I don't think this is strange in the dream, I've gone back in time and I'm in the 70s. My light brown suitcase is the old, hard-sided kind with the metallic edges and the flip-openers.
The airport is dimly lit. There's dark wood panelling on the walls and the floors, which were once white tile, now look pretty dingy.
For some reason, even though I'm already carrying my luggage, I go to the carousel where the luggage is coming out. The airport only has a few of these are they're all 70s style as well.
Then I see Don Henley, looking like he did in 1974, including wearing the white man-blouse and the jeans. He's by the luggage carousel looking bored with a weathered brown knapsack over his shoulder.
"Finally!" he says when he sees me. He takes my suitcase and I fall in step behind him. This all seems perfectly natural to me in the dream. I think about telling him I can carry my own bag since he's already got one, but I know he'll insist. He's old-fashioned like that. This isn't Don Henley, jaded and hedonistic rock star. This is just a nice guy who I'm traveling with.
We go outside through the sliding glass doors. Waiting at the curb is a mustard yellow station wagon (circa mid-70s) with the trunk already popped. Don goes to load my suitcase in there but he doesn't put his in. Instead, after he closes the trunk, he goes to the passenger side of the vehicle and hops in, putting his knapsack by his feet.
I suddenly remember that it's my car and that I'm driving. However, I don't feel any pressure to hurry or anything like that. I'm not stressed out. Don and I will get where we need to be just fine.
I get into the driver's side and start the car. Suddenly, we're nowhere near the airport or even a town. We're driving down a road in what looks an awful lot like the Piney Woods area of Texas during a drought, when there's just as much brown as green.
We're not really saying anything, just driving along in companionable silence. I feel like we've been driving for hours and have hours more to go, but I don't mind. I think this is nice. There's a strange sort of intimacy about a long road trip with someone.
He shifts in his seat and I glance over to see him digging around in his knapsack. He pulls out a pack of red diamond-backed cards. "Hey, do you want to play 'hustle and boogie'?" he asks.
"I can't play cards while I'm driving - I'll get carsick," I reply. The fact that it would be dangerous to do so doesn't occur to me. "I wish I could! You're lucky. But I don't even know what that game is."
"It's easy," Don grins. "It has rounds. Each play draws two cards during one round. The person who has cards that add together to the highest numbers wins the round."
"What about face cards?" I inquire. "What number do they get counted as?"
"That's why it's called 'hustle and boogie,'" Don answers mysteriously. He pulls a face card out of his deck - it's a queen - and it also has the number 12 on it!
I'm puzzled - that doesn't seem right - but I'm embarrassed to ask him about it because I don't want to look clueless. Instead, I just smile and nod. "I see."
Suddenly I'm not driving anymore; some random faceless guy is driving and I'm sitting between him and Don in the middle of the Naugahyde seat. I'm not touching Don's body or anything but we've very close and I find myself leaning toward him a bit, lol.
Now Don's playing the card game with random driver guy (I'll just call him 'Driver.') He has a yellow legal pad out where's he's keeping score with a pencil. I notice that instead of numbering like "Round 1" and "Round 2" that each round has a clever name. Don titles the round they're starting "Plow and Whistle."
"That's very creative, Don," I tell him and lean a little closer. "If i were trying to think of round names, I'd probably call it something silly like "Nail Polish and Shoes." As soon as the words leave my mouth I regret how shallow they make me sound, so I quickly add, "Not to promote female stereotypes or anything!" I laugh awkwardly.
To my dismay, Don decides to take this opportunity to discourse on the failings of feminism. I don't remember everything he said, but it included lines like "feminists are afraid to be feminine" and "I'm not saying men are better, but there's differences and you can't pretend there isn't" etc. etc. etc.
Well, I wasn't about to sit still for that! I say "Hey, that's not true! I'm not a radical feminist or anything but I do consider myself somewhat of a feminist and I appreciate 'feminine' things. I have a choice: I could lie and hide that fact so as not to propagate a stereotype, or admit I like those things too and show that feminists are complicated." I sit back, thinking my reply was quite intelligent and the choice I made quite obvious.
To my surprise, he responds with, "So you lie."
I am taken aback and offended. "HELLO? Did you not just hear me talk about using NAIL POLISH?!"
"But then you immediately tried to back off from it," he says calmly.
"That's not lying! That's being complicated!" I'm about to ream him for acting like he knows more about how I feel than I do, but then Driver stops the car and I look out the window.
We're now in front of some kind of a huge white stucco building. I see Glenn, looking like he did at the beginning of the History of the Eagles documentary in a white shirt and jeans c 1976, run right up to the car. He's smiling broadly, obviously happy to see us. When we don't get out right away, he jerks open the passenger door with a big "HI!"
I have no time for hellos - I have a point to prove! "Glenn, tell Don I'm complicated," I demand.
Glenn looks surprised, but says "Um, yeah. Real complicated."
I want Don to acknowledge what Glenn said and apologize but instead he just laughs and gets out of the car.
And then I woke up!
Re: Dreaming of the Eagles
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