recycled songs
i'm having a very hard time believing that my current favorite song was ever not-sung by bob dylan. it's too good. in fact, had i first heard it not sung by dylan, i'd never have liked the song. it's Wagon Wheel, performed by bodega (a group that was at old songs this year). it's terribly singable and i have it completely stuck in my head, mom's head, and colleen's.
had a strange daydream today. i can have these while participating in normal activities; my brain simply .. i don't know .. takes off. you know how you can have a dream where there is a basic storyline, and you can repeat the dream amny times. little details like camera angle, positiioning of players might be different, made different by you, but the basic story cannot be changed? my daytime flights of fancy are the same. very dream-like quality. the difference between these and night dreams is i can converse on a basic level while distracted this way. even if a real-time conversation pulls me out, i can still enter the ...whatever...at the same place as where i left it. this one had a weird storyline. i don't know where it came from. it's about 5-8 years from now, and the english-speaking country that i'm in has arrested me for telling stories. i'm supposed to tell one of my stories infront of a roomfull of people; one person is an expert in being able to tell parables and bible stories from regular stories. all my stories have a lesson, the question is a matter of whether or not i'm trying to convert people from {insert competing religion here} to Christianity or not. before i tell my stories to the expert, i am sequestered in a cell so that i cannot influence any more people before my rigged trial. unknowing of the jail system that i am, little do i know that important prisoners like me get their own cell and their own jailer. the gaurds take me to my cell where i see someone that i know but haven't seen since rpi. we had chatted for a while after leaving rpi, but fell out of touch. we fell out of touch because he was getting lost, and he got lost because we fell out of touch. i did not know that he was so lost, and simply assumed that he was another prisoner like me. we had all night (my trial was the next day, and he said that he was needed the next day, too), so we chatted about old times. this sounds cheesy, but he underwent a transformation in those hours. the next morning i discovered that he was my jailer sent to protect the citizens of the country from my influence. confessing that he'd held a torch for me for a number of years, he offered marriage as a way of saving me. i refused. i refused not out of a lack of attraction, but out of a lack of a worthy reason. saving myself from a rigged trial was not a worthy reason. he angrily wondered why i wasn't more upset to discover his lie. i replied that it was a lie by ommision, and it happened in the past. i couldn't change it. there was no point being upset over it. we parted, the gaurds escorted me to my trial. i told stories to the audience, stories ranging from everything that was relevant to everything that i felt at the time. this was my trial, i went for gusto. i worried not, because i knew i would be convicted. that did not matter. what mattered was the stories, inspiring someone to investigate the origins of the stories on their own. at the end of the day, the parable expert was called forth from the audience. it was my jailer, whom i had spent the night convincing that my life did not matter, but rather the stories did.
was i able to continue subtly converting people in the region, or not?