Another Bill dream

 

This is getting weird.

I dreamed of Uncle Bill again last night. This time he was here at my place, although it was a slightly different version of my place. The property seemed larger, and it was being farmed and tended by a whole team of Mexicans. They were very involved in keeping things maintained, whereas I was doing very little, to the dismay of Uncle Bill.

I remember him showing me how, if I picked up a rag and some spray cleaner, I could really make a doorway's rubber threshold shiny and new. I tried it, and it was kind of satisfying. It was in a building which doesn't exist in real life, and I told him as much:

"I really don't remember this building being here. Did you make it yourself?"

"Yeah, me and the others made it, but it needs a little work," he said.

I could see the sub-standard construction techniques very easily. It looked like someone had converted a portable mare motel into a three bedroom apartment. So the frame was galvanized steel piping with a layer of drywall and insulation and siding sandwiching it. There were gaps where the ceiling and wall were supposed to connect that were papered over. When I poked at the paper, I could see that it had been water damaged because the tin roof didn't even extend out far enough to cover the gaps.

"This whole thing has to be torn down," he said.

I got the impression, though, that we weren't going to do that and were most likely just going to live with it as it was for a while.

In another dream, far, far from this one, I met with Jay Herbert. (I sure hope he's not dead, given my track record this week.) Jay was a guy who I worked for part time in the early '90s. I was the  receptionist/VCR cleaning tech at his tiny TV, VCR and camcorder repair shop. I spent most of my time talking on a CB radio which he had set up on my workbench.

That's all background, and really not relevant to the dream. In the dream he was still Jay the TV repairman, still struggling to make ends meet, and I don't really recall anything other than the vibe I was getting from him.

"It's the great Jay Herbert," I said upon seeing him.

"Not that great. I need to find another place," he told me, "Maybe I'll go to work for a big conglomerate."

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Well, that's about all I can pull out of my memory banks at the moment. Pretty fragmented and sketchy. I was told that if you write your dreams down you will have more of them and remember them better. Hey, I'm all for it. With TV programming being what it is, I could use some decent entertainment.