The TIbetan Book of Honda

The recurring them of going to training camp, or elements thereof, is not lost on me. I keep dreaming that I'm in some version of my life where French Camp, the Honda Training Center, figures in. 

In this dream, I was first talking to Steve Clark, who was trapped in Corning, because he was drunk and couldn't drive. We were talking on the CB, and I was trying to get better reception by sitting on the bank of a dried cement lake bed. I couldn't hear him very well because of some music which he was playing in the background.

Next, I was walking down an alleyway, and in the distance, I recognized a group of people standing against a wall. I could make out the blue an grey uniforms of YC Honda.  I also recognized the forms of the Giant, Andres and David, aka "Jackie" Chanh. 

Somehow figuring in were Rob Peavey and Kim Johnson who were in an estranged, split up relationship due to Kim's infidelity. 

I greeted the group with a friendly, "Hey, motherfuckers! Where's my raise?" 

High fives, handshakes and fist bumps ensued, as they recognized me for the former employee returning visitor that I was. 

As we walked toward a run-down set of hotel rooms, it was apparent that these were training center lodgings, and the group was on a mission from Honda. I noted that it looked like they'd renovated slightly since my last visit there. We always got the duplexes anyway, though, which were slightly more upscale than the crap row of single units. 

Kim was distraught over her relationship, so we sat down for a moment on a picnic table and I tried to console her.

"It's ok," I said putting my hand on hers as I watched some butter melt on a pancake on a paper plate on the table.

"No, it's not," she said.

I agreed with her. Nothing would ever be the same, but I was thinking expansively, as in, "Ultimately, everything is OK. Anyway, we'll be getting to the hotel, and isn't it nice they've renovated it?"

Previously, before I was speaking to drunken Steve Clark, I was in another set of hotels and the folks there were mostly pre-pubescent teens looking for a place to masturbate. I don't know how I fit in to that situation, but apparently I didn't, because I found myself seeking other accommodations. 

I woke up after the Kim conversation, begrudgingly opening my eyes because I recognized that I was having a dream and I actually needed to wake up and document it before before the strands slipped through my fingers. The Tibetan Book of the Dead was and is playing softly in the background as I get my bearings in my awakened state.