This was such an unusual dream, because it was so full, so real, so unexpected and unlike any dream ever. I can certainly understand having this dream as a child, growing up on the classic western movies that were once so very popular. Especially in the infancy of T. V. The reruns of B. western movies were everywhere. Westerns today are rare on the big screen and television. That being said, I still love westerns. The ones I like are the more modern ones with Clint Eastwood, Tom Selleck, Sam Elliott, Russell Crowe. I’m writing this to preserve this most delightfully entertaining dream which I thoroughly loved and woke up with a dip-pity-do-da, dip-pity-ya, my oh my, to my life that I have not seen in a while. That alone was worth the price of a-thousand tickets, something that has been sorely missing recently. I only hope I can do justice at my attempt!
My dream starts with me entering a house in Southern California. This house appeared as though it belonged to a rich person that loved the flavor of the desert southwest, but more glamorous, museum like in appearance. Something like one would expect out of a flashy western star like Roy Rogers back, say in the 40’s. Upon entering there were many western movie stars whom I recognized; however no real ones, I knew from real life. I also am a western movie actor in my dream, not top caliber, yet about to get my big break. It was an introduction with everyone in attendance to see how we bond. This was the first time this many western movie actors had ever been together. I, being the upstart, am looked at with great intensity trying to see what I’m made of. I’m invited to sit down and an instrument of some sort was handed to me with a demon grin on this old timer’s face; I didn’t know him. He said “no one has ever been able to play this banjo/guitar what-cha-ma-call-it. It has become a tradition here that any new cowboy, attempts to play it. Care to try”? It had the body of a mandolin, but from there on out it had thin strips of orange and yellow inch wide wooden slats that began to move as soon as you put it up to your body. I’m thinking what in the world is this thing! It was beyond description. All eyes were upon me. This devil instrument had strings on the body and strange moving slats where you finger the damn thing. I laid it on the table and say “this appears like a saloon, if in fact it is, barkeep please bring me three shots of whiskey and a beer. If I’m expected to play such a monstrosity as this I must relax”. I chugged down the first shot and chased it with a drink of beer shrugging my shoulders to the whiskey warmth as it slides down my throat. I picked up the instrument and caressed it, feeling the wood. I heard someone say “look he’s making love to it, he plans on making some beautiful music”. Everyone roared with laughter. I’m thinking I’ll play a slow ballad. I was a step or two behind this devil’s spawn. I laid it down and drank my second shot, chasing it with a larger gulp of beer. I stared at the instrument, it returns my stare with red animalistic eyes. I shake my head and go aw-whoo, aw-whoo!! This draws laughter, then strange looking uncertain eyes gaze at me, the crazy cowpoke. This instrument of music was communicating with me. We are becoming one; coyote brethren. Searching for that inner strength and wisdom of our ancestors, we must match souls for me to master this instrument of the wild. I downed my third shot, finishing the beer and asked the barkeep for another beer. I’m feeling relaxed, loose as I picked up the coyote, turning it over to sense its soul. We unite, soul to soul and will make music as one.
Slowly but surely music played, beautiful music, the sound of which no other instrument can make. Simplicity of the old west is felt. All the biggest names in cowboy movies gathered close to feel the coyote music with the newest member of the cowboy community. Guitars came from out of nowhere to be a part of the celebration. What is the celebration? The heart of the old west, the coyote of the night, the desert southwest has its own soul and it comes out through the coyote I play. No one sang, for it’s the instruments that tell the story and what a story it told! The guitars followed the once thought of devil instrument, because of its uniqueness. The coyote, as the cowboys now called the brightly colored unusual instrument, is them! Time is now to bring out the tunes of harmony existing in all of us. Timing must be right and people must be pure. Purity of soul is essential, to believe can make it happen, but there must be instruments of honesty. The evil, wicked, ways of modern man must go back to the roots ancestral righteousness of the moon the stars the wonderment of the universe. Money, wars, hate, bigotry, jealousness etc., there is no place for these man made concoctions of planet destroying atrocities. We must all find our heart and follow to succeed, to survive, to continue. I know in my heart the masses are good of heart and soul, WHY DO WE LET THE MINORITY, CONTROL THE MAJORITY IS BEYOND MY COMPREHENSION, PERHAPS IT IS ALL TOO EASY AS WE HAVE ALWAYS ALLOWED THE KINGS, THE QUEENS, LEADERS ELECTED OR ATTAINING POWER BY FORCE. WHY! WHY! WHY! THE OLD WESTERN MOVIES TELL US THE STORY OF THE MOB OUT TO HANG THE GUY IN JAIL. ONE MAN THE WICKED LEADER STIRS UP THE WHOLE TOWN TO DO HIS DIRTY WORK. THE LONE SHERIFF STARES DOWN THE MOB WITH A SINGLE SHOTGUN. HE TELLS THE LEADER THAT THE FIRST SHOT WILL BE HIS. THE SNAKES HEAD IS CUT OFF!
I reckon I’m old fashion. Nothing makes sense anymore, probably never did! Perhaps I grew up in a fantasy world where the good guys wore white. The lines are so blurred and everyone is so busy, being busy to care. Our future slips away right in front of us as we talk on our cellphones with meaningless chatter about nothing. The children text, play video games learning about death, destruction as a game, yep it’s a game, a game we have lost, because we never saw it other than a game!!!
WOW A DREAM, AN INTERPRETATION, A SERMON, DAMN, WHERE DID THAT COME FROM???? Thanks for visiting my humble site, goodnight, ya’all. Glen View