October 5, 2011
I’m Sorry That I Forgot Elvis’ Birthday Again

Does this ever happen to you?  Every so often, I’ll dream something - maybe Sifu invites his ex-girlfriend to move in with us and I come home to find her hanging pictures of her family all over my bedroom ceiling, just hypothetically - and then I’ll wake up (phew!) and none of it really happened, but no matter what logic I use on myself, I’m STILL PISSED.

I’ll spend my first waking hour in a first class snit, actually mad at Sifu for doing something IN MY DREAM.  Something my own idiot brain MADE him do.  I suspect this might be a female defect, because although several of my female friends have admitted to the same behavior, all of the men I know just sort of shake their heads sadly when I mention it, as if they themselves have been victimized by the slumbering imaginations of the women they love.

Anyway, just so you know I’m an equal opportunity resenter, I was pretty upset with myself all morning for what I dreamed my dead grandmother and I did to Elvis.

Grandma Jean died a few years ago, and I can’t remember another time, even when she was alive, that I dreamed of her so vividly.  So I know beyond all doubt that this was a MESSAGE FROM BEYOND.

Granny and I were walking through an enchanted moonlit forest, toward a quaint little fairytale cottage.  I understood this to be the type of lodging provided to spirits.  I was allowed to walk her home, but under no circumstances could I enter her cottage.  The dream was not spooky - this was a happy visit.

"This is the anniversary of the day you and I went to see Aida!" said my grandma, though we never did any such thing in real life. 

"Oh shit, grandma, that means we forgot Elvis’ birthday again," said I, smacking my head in disgust at my forgetfulness.

"You’re right!" said Grandma.  "I remember last year, he was so mad when we went out to dinner after the show, and didn’t invite him.  We had to pretend we were still hungry and take him out for donuts."

"What are we gonna do now?" I asked my grandma.  "His birthday is almost over.  We can’t piss off The King."

"Luckily, he lives right across the road," she said, pointing to another adorable cottage with little potted ferns hanging over the entrance. 

We went over and knocked on the charming stone door.  Elvis answered, and he was not pleased.  “Happy Birthday, Elvis!” said my grandmother and I, but Elvis just rolled his eyes at us.  Fuck, we were in the doghouse again.

This dream reveals a few important things to me.  First, my grandmother is doing okay.  She was a tenacious old lady right up to the end, so it’s nice to see she’s at peace now.  Secondly, she lives next door to Elvis!  That’s not the kind of thing she would normally be happy about, but the rules have changed in the afterlife, obviously.

But the most important thing I’ve learned is that Elvis was born on January 8th, and if I forget his birthday next year, he’s probably going to put that 2012 armageddon plan into effect.  Let’s not fuck this up.  Remind me.

Also, Simian Idiot Announcement.  Tomorrow is Thursday, and just like old times, it’s going to be Ask a Big Boss Thursday.  For those of you not in the know, I, Rev. Back It On Up 13, attain complete enlightenment every Thursday at midnight, and it lasts for precisely 24 hours.  The rest of the week I don’t know jack shit but on Thursdays, the sky is the limit.  So if there is anything whatsoever you want to know, in the fields of science, philosophy, history or beyond, leave it in the comments today and tomorrow I’ll probably answer it, unless I don’t care about it or I get hit by a bus.

If I don’t get any questions you can all go fuck yourselves.  I’ll keep my total enlightenment to myself and get a violent headrush out of it.

See you tomorrow!

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