Bus Dreams

Wednesday July 16th, 2014 – Island Lake, IL

One of a large laundry list of assorted oddities in my life I have never been able to figure out is a recurring dream I have had for decades. I have told it in detail to several dream interpreters that I have run across both on the radio and in private, but nobody has given me a definitive answer.

In my dream, I am walking through an unidentified city. It is almost always at night, and I find an abandoned city bus parked with the motor running and lights on. I get on the bus, sit myself in the driver’s seat and proceed to start driving along a route that somehow I already know by heart.

I stop and pick passengers up, and nobody ever questions anything. I will exchange banter with many of the people that get on, and even answer questions they have about directions. It’s a very realistic experience, and I can totally feel that big bus steering wheel in my hands as I’m driving.

It’s never a school bus or Greyhound, and it’s never out in the sticks. It’s always a city bus in a city environment with big buildings around me and lots of traffic. I know exactly how to operate everything, and I consciously check my mirrors and use turn signals. It’s a detailed experience.

The funny thing is, I have never driven anything close to a bus in my life. I did own a hearse a long time ago, but I didn’t drive it very much. It was basically a gimmick I used to advertise my comedy. I had “Die Laughing with Comedian Dobie Maxwell” painted on the side, and I parked it in a friend’s driveway that lived on a busy street. It was more of a billboard than anything else.

I only wish I could have as vividly detailed dreams about being a special guest at the Playboy mansion, but that has never happened even once. These bus dreams have been going on for most of my adult life, and I’ll be dipped in diesel fuel if I can figure out why. But it’s not unpleasant.

I did happen to ride the city bus quite a bit while growing up in Milwaukee, but there’s no way it should have buried itself that deeply into my psyche that I still have such vivid dreams about it today. I have never charted how often this dream occurs, but I’d say a couple of times each year.

Last night it happened again, and I have to admit I enjoyed it. I wasn’t naked behind the wheel or anything like that, and once again I knew exactly what I was doing and where I was going on my route. If I had that kind of confidence and vision in real life, I would be a superstar by now.

The only other recurring dream I still have is about trying to be a baseball pitcher. I show up at a tryout camp somewhere, and try to act like I belong there. I get on the mound and start to throw and before long there are scouts standing around asking me questions. Again, everything is vivid.

Once in a while the procedure will take place at an actual stadium although I can rarely identify which. Sometimes it’s Wrigley Field. Other times it’s Comiskey Park or the old County Stadium in Milwaukee. Most times it’s just your random run of the mill stadium, but it’s always packed.

Between innings I get to go out there and show everybody what I have left in the tank. I give it all I have, and then they ask me to join them in the broadcast booth. Again, I have no idea why it happens, but it’s never unpleasant. Where’s Sigmund Freud when you need him? I need answers.

If my life dreams could match my bus dreams, I would be a smashing success.

Advertisement

No Cubs No

Monday September 17^th, 2012 – Chicago, IL

   I fully intended to spend the entire day getting caught up on my mountain of mundane minutia, but in the end it remains another undone Monday. But this time I’m ok with it. It was my choice, and I’d make it again – even though what I chose to blow everything off for didn’t even happen.

I received an unexpected phone call this morning from my friend and fellow comedian ‘Uncle Lar’ Larry Reeb, asking if I would be available for a Cubs game this evening. Had it been a call from almost anyone else in the cosmos, I would have politely thanked them but said a firm no.

This was a special occasion, and I had no choice but to say yes. Our mutual friend Bob McVia happened to be in town, and Larry and I hadn’t seen him in far too long. The three of us started a tradition probably twenty years ago now of trying to catch a live baseball game every summer.

Most of the games have been at Wrigley Field, but on occasion we’d switch it up and catch the White Sox or even the Brewers in Milwaukee. We’re all baseball fans, but it’s never been about that exclusively. We’re all good friends that make each other laugh hard. That’s the real draw.

Bob used to bring his son Johnny every year, who was probably 12 when we started. He’s now in his 30s, and has a family of his own. He hasn’t been to the last few games, but Bob has told us in the past how much Johnny used to really love hanging out with us and being part of the group.

There are extremely funny people who never become full time comedians, and Bob has always been one of them. That’s no insult to anyone, but the lifestyle sacrifice it takes to pursue this as a full time career just isn’t for everybody. Quite often idiots stay in the game and talent drops out.

Bob McVia is far from an idiot. He’s a down to earth, well read funny guy who dabbled a bit in comedy but decided to have a life and family instead. Good for him. Larry and I gave it all up for comedy, and we joked about whether it was a good decision or not. Frankly, there was no choice.

Comedy is a calling. Those of us who have that calling can’t do anything else. We need it, and will do anything to get it. Larry and I would do comedy even if nobody paid us, and that’s where things seem to be headed. He’s been doing it even longer than me, and we both see what’s going on and it has us more than a bit concerned. It’s too late to back out now. We’re both in too deep.

We didn’t let any of that stop us from having a great time, and we made each other erupt with laughter just like we always have. In fact, we didn’t even need a baseball game. There was a rain delay, and we sat in the stands from 7pm to 10 and they didn’t even take the tarp off of the field.

Larry’s brother Jim came with us, and he brought his son who is Johnny McVia’s age. We had a blast just hanging out, and nobody was upset there was no baseball game. I don’t know if that’s an insult to baseball or a compliment to the quality of the company, but we enjoyed ourselves for an entire evening and nobody was angry we didn’t see even one pitch. Hanging with friends like Larry Reeb and Bob McVia make life worth living. My pile of laundry will be there tomorrow.