I'll See You In My Dreams

From the start, let me make this clear. I have never seen Lady Gaga perform. I've not heard her sing. Nor do I want to. I wouldn't know her if I bumped into her on the sidewalk. Nor do I want to. Her reputation precedes her, and that's enough for me. It's kind of like geoduck... I don't have to try it to pretty much know that I'm not going to like it.

Nor do I want to.

So why in the world did I dream about her last night? Most times, I can trace my dreams back to something that happened during the course of the previous day. In this particular dream, I was a reporter again. Okay, nothing unusual. I was asked to write and produce an ad yesterday for the radio station I used to work for. Radio was on my mind, I was a radio reporter for many years, hence the dream. Got it. But Lady Gaga? Seriously?

I doubt she looks anything like she did in my dream. She was brunette, about 50 years old and trying to look 15, and slightly overweight. She was performing at some sort of an outdoor fair. It was raining, and only a handful of fans were anywhere near the stage. There was a group of about 20 dancing to her music afar off. Most of the people were wandering the fairgrounds in the rain, ignoring her performance. Then she came inside for an interview. I truly didn't know what to ask her, but I came up with a killer question... something about her childhood as I recall. I don't know exactly what it was, but I was pretty proud of pulling a good question out of thin air, when I really didn't want to be doing the interview at all. Her people only allowed a couple questions, then they escorted her away.

As she walked away I thought, "This is America's most popular female singer? Why?"

That might be the only part of my dream that made sense.

A Four Year Old Reporter

It's funny how math works sometimes. Glancing at the calendar today, I just realized that it was 25 years ago today that I covered my very first City Council meeting as part of a radio internship for WPHM Radio in Port Huron, Michigan. 25 years. That would mean I was a reporter at... wow! Just 4 years old!

Well, the first part is true, anyway. It was Marysville City Council. The Mayor was a man named Dave Wright. I interviewed him after the meeting, went back to the radio station and wrote the story, and then called the mayor to confirm my facts. Somehow, some way, I still managed to screw it up. I don't remember the details, but I didn't get the story right. But they still used me at the station, and I ended up staying there for 5 years. I was the station's News Director when I left.

About the only recurring dream I have (other than not being able to find my locker while I roam my High School hallways in my undies) is being back at the radio station again. I never dream about the other 3 stations I worked for... only WPHM. Today, I'm no longer in the radio business except for some commercials I produce in my own home studio. I'm still in journalism very part-time as a freelancer for a couple local papers. My full-time job and obsession is as a Pastor. And I'm loving it.

For someone who is determined to keep looking forward and not back, that dream is a mystery to me. Sometimes in the dream I'm relieved to be back again in familiar territory, but most times I regret coming back. In my dream, I'm wondering what it was in my life that failed and brought me "home" again. We live 160 miles away from my first real job. I have memories, but I don't want to go back again. Northern Michigan is my home now.

Maybe it's a fear of failing. That's logical. We all face that fear from time to time. Maybe those first few years in radio, part of 25 year stretch on on-air shenanigans are so ingrained that I keep re-visiting for old times sake. Who knows? But I'll say this... it is fun to be four again in that dream.

Okay, okay. Four and a half. With a beard.

Unfinished Business

I don't put much stock in my dreams. Now I'm not talking about dreams as they relate to vision for my life or ministry. I'm talking about the dreams that come to visit while I'm sound asleep. For one thing, I don't sleep much. Secondly, I can generally trace my dreams back to something specific that happened during the day. But last night... well, that was different. Although my memory is foggy at best, I know that I dreamed twice that I went back to college and got my Bachelor's Degree. The second time I woke up from the dream, I was convinced that I had to do it, and soon.

I'm still convinced.

For reasons that aren't important right now, I left Eastern Michigan University when I was 18 years old after just one semester. After months of wondering what to do next, I enrolled at the local Community College, and on a whim took some courses in radio. My radio internship turned into a 5 year long job, which led to a 25 year career in broadcasting. I got my Associate's Degree, but the fact that I never got my Bachelor's has always been a thorn in my side.

This week, I'm wrapping up my final report for my Ordination Internship. It's the final course of study that allows me to apply for the 3rd and highest level of ministry for Pastors in our fellowship. I'm glad to have it done. But I want to do more. Completing my studies for ordination was something I needed to do for my church. This time however, it's personal.

I've learned that I may be able to transfer up to 96 credits of previous study and life experience toward my degree. It probably won't be that much, but certainly I'll have a great start. Eventually, I'll have a Bachelor of Arts in Bible and Theology. And I can finally put this heavy load that's been on my shoulders all of these years to rest.

Now. About that student loan...

Chasing Woodpeckers

We call him "Pilly." Not very original, but it's the name my wife and I came up with for the Pileated Woodpecker that began frequenting our bird feeder last summer. I have yet to get close enough to get even one decent picture of the critter because he's either camera shy or just naturally jumpy. Anyway, I spotted him today sitting on the bridge that crosses the river near our home. I stopped the car, rolled down the window, but once again he flew away when I pointed the camera. So, after I got home I took a walk around the woods to try to find him.

That's when things got interesting. When my mind and I get alone for any length of time, we start to wander into unknown territory.

My walk led me just about a quarter mile from my home, off the beaten path a ways toward an old abandoned manufacturing plant of some sort. It's huge, and it's ugly. It ceased operation long before I came to town, or at least it must have been on its last legs. It's a painful reminder of a once productive past. It has served its purpose, but now it sits there rotting. Really, it's the worst eyesore in town next to the moldy drinking fountain in the park. But I digress.

Memories can be like that. An eyesore. A genuine pain in the backside. A reminder of our hurts, our pains and our regrets. Memories are like a sleeping lion that looks peaceful and harmless until it wakes up, sinks its claws deep into your chest and rips your heart out. Nice metaphor, huh?

I hail from a family that loves to live in the past. Guess what? The buck stops here, Bucko. I'm just not going there anymore. I've got some hot visions and dreams stirring in my heart, and if I don't do something about them I might self-combust. If I dwell on the past, think about memories, brood over regrets or keep wishing I had a time machine to go back to my childhood days (which were really Hell on earth to begin with) then I'll never accomplish the awesome job that I know God has given me. The dreams I have are so big, they could only come from Him. They'll only happen with Him. He has called me to pick up my cross and follow him daily, not to drag around a Hefty bag full of garbage from yesterday.

Somewhere, perhaps in a dusty attic or an upstate New York landfill, there sits a box of old home movies that I've given up on ever seeing again. After 20 years of waiting, it's not worth the drama anymore. And you know what? That's okay. I would much rather write a new chapter in my life than rehash the old ones. Like Guy Penrod sang, when I reach heaven just knowing he'll be there is enough for me. We'll "spend a lifetime reminiscing on the past." Enough about yesterday. You don't get to the finish line by looking backward. I'm pressing on to win the race.

In the meantime, I sure would like to find that stupid woodpecker.

Why Not IHOP Instead?

I really don't like dreaming.

I don't get the funny little dreams about flying, walking around school in my skivvies, or being back together with a long-lost love where everything is sunshine and roses. No... I dream about making french fries at a fast-food restaurant. I don't even eat there, and it's not because of the greasy food, either. No, this is just another in a series of those nutty dreams I have because I'm trying to improve my life, and fear tries to rule the day.

We had our first intercessory prayer meeting at church last night, and I prayed for the strength to lose the weight I've recently gained back. It's been a struggle all my life, but I had it under control for a number of years. Well, I tried to fit into my favorite suit coat (which I wear about twice a year) last Sunday, and... nothing doing. That baby wasn't even close to being buttoned. That was a wake-up call. So I asked my friends for prayer, and to join with me in believing I can conquer this nasty demon once again.

So what happens? I dreamed that I was hired at a greasy fast food joint, working the fryer. I had some sort of weird teenage co-worker who took orders from the drive thru, while I filled the bags. Most of the time I had to go track him down and tell him there was a car in the drive-thru, because he was in a back room watching television. One of the orders was even returned undercooked. I didn't do it, by the way. I was in charge of the greasy fries.

Anyway, our "restaurant" also had an exercise program. It was part of some winter contest to see whose business could lose the most weight. Our place was working in teams. Of course, I was paired with the lazy co-worker, who wouldn't exercise. So, I munched on a sugary peanut butter cookie instead. Nice.

So hopefully, I'm awake now... although I fear I'm having a dream within a dream again, and I'm going to wake up to find all this typing was useless. But if I am truly awake, then I have conquered the first hurdle of the morning: Breakfast! I had a dry piece of fat-free wheat toast and a bowl of corn flakes with skim milk. Now I'm off to the gym to walk a mile or two, and then I'll head to work to consume large quantities of coffee with fat free creamer.

The pancakes will have to wait.