This Dream of You

I dream about Bob Dylan all the time. Which stands to reason because I spend so much of my waking hours pondering the wonder that is Bob. I once found him sitting on the steps down to the basement of the house I grew up in. He had his pencil mustache and cowboy hat circa the early part of this millennium. I told him what I would say if I ever met him (last paragraph), and he just laughed.

This most recent dream though is something I think all of us Bobcats wish would happen to us in real life. You are at an intimate venue for some other reason, and Bob Dylan comes on as a surprise guest. In my dream, it’s the auditorium of Roosevelt Elementary in Melrose, MA. The site of such former triumphs as my lead role as February in the 2nd grade play, which was smart casting the shortest month to be played by someone of my stature, and where I mimed Jackie Wilson’s version of “By the Light of the Silvery Moon” for the talent show in 4th grade. But I digress.

For some reason, Joan Baez is being honored for her lifetime of activism at my elementary school. I’m in the last row, in one of those metal folding chairs that wrestlers swing over each other’s backs. We’ve come to the part of the ceremony where Joan’s involvement in the Civil Rights Movement is being highlighted, and the montage being shown on a screen shows Joan and Bob singing at the March on Washington. I turn to whoever is next to me, that I can’t quite make out, and getting choked up I say, “wouldn’t it be something if Bob were actually here? He never does stuff like that though.” Then, lo and behold, Bob is standing right next to me there in the dark. He’s waiting to be called up on stage. He looks exactly like I did the last time I saw him, wearing his open smock of Outlaw Tour fame.

Next thing I know, Bob is doing his set from in front of the stage, down on the floor for some reason. Perhaps they couldn’t get his piano up on the stage. I run up to be stage left, and I’m able to see that Bob is still playing that four-finger piano with the pinky out. I can’t figure out what he is playing, but it sounds like 50s rock n’ roll, something wildly inappropriate to be honoring Joan Baez’s commitment to Civil Rights. Regardless, I yell, “thank you Bobby!” He looks right at me, and with a big smile says, “you’re welcome.”

No footage has emerged from my dream, so even though my dream was in color, I’ll leave you with this beautiful black and white image from Alma Har'el’s Shadow Kingdom. Which according to Definitely Dylan, is a type of Midsummer Night’s Dream.