Dreams.

I dreamt I was visiting downtown St. Louis and it looked like something out of Dickens’ 19th century London—skuzzy, gray, cobble-stoned, misty, candles in windows, disease filled with rats running hither and tither. My dad and I came upon an amazing open-sided cathedral thing and I didn’t know the story of it. It was clean and polished and beautiful, with these intricately carved arches and pillars, and large healing pools.

We wandered around the maze of it until we came to the chapel, where there was a karaoke-type worship service going on with synthesizer background tracks and a garishly made-up old woman with dyed black hair singing “Tears in Heaven.” The audience was scattered about on the old wooden pews with looks of content joy on their faces, and some were clapping a little.

We walked through a side door and came to a small room where we were going to watch a movie on my dad’s laptop about the origin of the place, which was apparently the object of a great war fought long ago. It began with a close-up of Rex Harrison (Professor Higgins from My Fair Lady) speaking, quite badly I could tell, Arabic. He was very impassioned and leaning against a stone pillar, being battered by the rain.

Then I woke up. I made some coffee and reflected that I was somewhat disappointed to not get to hear what the war was about. I love dreams. Anyone else dream vividly and bizarrely & remember it?