The disc jockey dream

If you're like me, you have a series of dreams that repeat themselves from time to time. Mine (or at least the ones I notice) include a stressful group. Examples: I'm walking into a final exam in college, and I've never showed up for any of the classes, or even bought the book. Or I've been back working at my old law firm for a month and I've forgotten to keep timesheets. Or I'm about to go on stage in a play, I don't know any of my lines, and I can't even find a copy of the script to read to the audience.

Some nights there's a slightly different theme, but it's still frustrating: I'm in Vegas, have been there for days, but it's my last night, I want to play blackjack just once this trip, and I can't find a table. Or I'm on my way home from a trip, but I can't find the gate at the airport.

The only way out of these dreams is to wake up. They do not resolve themselves.

Last night I had the disc jockey version. I'm back at a radio station, doing a music show, I go on the air in a couple of minutes, I don't have anything prepared, and I can't find anything in the station's music library that I recognize. I look all through the shelves, and can't find a thing to put on the turntable. Maybe one song, but as soon as it starts, I go back hunting, and there's nothing more there. And always, always running out of time to pull something together. The song is ending in two minutes.

So what was it that my brain was trying to clear out with last night's dream?  I don't think I need Sigmund Freud for that one. The other day, I decided to start blogging again. Blogging, where if you don't put up new content all the time, people stop coming by to visit. Some days, it comes easy; other days, you can't find anything you want to say. But a clock is always ticking.

I don't think radio stations even have physical libraries any more, do they? But the ones in my dreams always will. And you're tuned in out there, if only I can find something to play. 


  1. When I was in my early teens, just as the 60s musical scene exploded, I used to ride my bike down to the WYBC studios to help put records away and just generally hang with the big kids. The student djs were dipping into wild stuff like John Mayall's Bluesbreakers, the Airplane, Hendrix and Cream for the first time, and nothing was ever the same. There was always something to play and, since you've been there and back, I've no doubt your muse is hanging close.


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