I dreamed I was a guy named Kevin. He is a character on "This is Us." In the dream, Kevin was an alcoholic piano player known as "the Coney Island Showboat." Kevin had revenge issues and was down on his luck. He had to try to get his mojo back but was having difficulty. He was blocked musically and needed a drink.
He took one shot of whiskey and immediately sat down at a raggedy old piano and started banging away like a man possessed. The piano was falling apart, but he could feel the mojo coming back. This was an odd dream, in that I saw myself as Kevin from a third person perspective.
Then the phone rang in the other room, and I had to wake up before properly packing up the dream, which I am certain had more to it. It was a telemarketer.
I decided to find out whether one of the many phone jacks in the spare bedroom was functional so I could avoid getting out of bed the next time the phone rang in the morning. I plugged in an old phone, and it worked. In the future, I can hang up on the telemarketers and get back to dreaming. One more improvement in this charmed life I live.
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.