Friday, February 09, 2007

They're Heeeere ...

<--- It looked kind of like this only it didn't have a tail and there wasn't a city under it. Honest.

I saw one. I really did. Maybe you've noticed what I've noticed. Lately there has been a ton of reports making the national news about mysterious objects flying through the nighttime sky. We used to call these things "UFO's." Now we call them meteors, weather balloons, flares launched during military manuevers or perhaps swamp gas.

You know what I think? You want me to tell you? Honestly?

I ain't got a clue.

I was driving home from Chicago last Sunday night. The Bears had just gotten the beezwax beaten out of them in the not-so-super-bowl. So I was rather depressed to begin with. But I don't drink. Ok, there was probably a Coke in my cup holder. There's almost always a Coke in my cup holder. So I admit that there was caffiene in my system. That's the strongest thing I drink. Therefore I was clear headed, depressed and sober.

I'm not certain where I was at. I mean, once you get on I-55 between Chicago and St. Louis it really doesn't matter where you are. The mile markers only tell you how much longer the torture will last before you arrive. I think I was probably south of Bloomington and north of Springfield. Not sure. I am sure that I was not passing through a town. The stereo was on REALLY head bangingly loud. No, really. It was. I know I'm too old to do that but I did because it was about 1:30am and I have made a covenent with myself not to die on I-55. The tempreture outside was about -8. Cold. So it was cold, it was Super Bowl Sunday night, it was very late and I was in the middle of nowhere. There was so little traffic that I drove most of the trip with my head lights on bright. Nobody complained. It was really, really dark.

And then it was really, really not dark. My Mustang is emerald green and at first I wondered why it was glowing. Seriously. I could see the green on the hood outside of my windshield. This is unusual. Something drew my attention to the drivers window. The something was green too. It was moving slowly. I don't do "degrees" very well so let's just say that if you use your thumb and index finger, hold them about one foot in front of your face, you can spread them about 6 inches apart and that's how high it was above the horizon.

I've seen meteors before. You know, shooting stars. We are all educated people and we know they not stars. That's just the romantic name. They are space junk or stray space rocks entering the atmosphere and burning up. We've all seen them. It's cool. But I have never seen a green one, I have never seen a slow moving one and I have never seen one not burn up. But that sure enough was the case on the last very early Monday morning of my life.

I watched it for about 30 seconds. It did not light up the world in the kind of way that would allow you to read a map but it did make my green car look ... green. Ok, so maybe that's not very convincing. But it was the dead of night after all. So it should count for something.

Oh, did I tell you that the music on my CD player suddenly distorted, my car lights dimmed, my watch spun wildly out of control and my convertible top began going up and down all on its own? Of course I didn't. Because those things didn't happen.

But I really did see it. It really was up there. It really was unlike anything I have ever seen before. I don't know if anybody was driving it or if it was just a REALLY SLOW rock. Or maybe the Korean's launched the big one and missed. (Has anybody checked on Indianapolis lately? I haven't heard from them since the big win. Maybe Chicago "took them out?")

What I do know is that the next day the news said that people from Missouri to Wisconsin saw the same thing that I saw at differing times.

Ok, that's my wierdness for the week. Sorry it took so long to tell you. I've been busy doing nothing. And sorry I didn't tell it with more humor and gusto. There just isn't much to tell. It was green. It was moving. It stuck around for multiple seconds. Then it was gone. I don't know where it went. I thought I had better look at the road for a minute and when I turned back the first time it was still there ... the second time it was still there ... the third time, nope.

You know, come to think of it I did have a burrito about the time I left Chicago. It was potent. Yummy and potent. Maybe the light was simply burning gas ... inside the car ...

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Hi-De-Ho, Good Neighbor

Wow. We've gone around the world yet again! Welcome to our latest readers from (get this...) Lipidas, Philippines; Henan, China; Shandong, China; Gaigain, China; Montevideo, Uruguay; and Rosaria, Argentina!

All together now ... "We are the world! We are the children!" Hey... anybody want a Coke?

Night Thoughts On Steroids

Ok, it's early in the morning. Even for me. But I just had this dream and I have to write it down. Dreams vanish into the mist if not recorded. So I'm recording this one because I cannot afford to let it get away. For now ... this is all you will read. Oh, the rest of it is written down. But it's in a safe place. When the sun comes up ... and it will ... I will sit down and read it. And if it still makes sense in the light of day as it does in the dark of night I will print it. But wisdom tells me to take my time.

And time ... time I have.

Ok, let's just say this and get it out of the way. Most dreams are simply ... dreams. They are often the result of pepperoni on the pizza or salsa on the burrito. Their primary meaning is to urge you along toward certain dietary restraints. Oh, and they help make sure your brain stays sane during the daytime by allowing it to go insane during the night. That's my theory anyway. Just remember that as you read of my latest adventures in dreamland that I scratched out somewhere around 2am this morning...
I do not remember any sound. No words. No grunting. No crowd noise. Silence.

I do remember color. Vivid color. I was on a football field. I was a quarterback. I was wearing blue and orange and the helmets of the men lined up in front of me had a large "C" on them. They were and I was a Chicago Bear. That is pretty crazy but it gets crazier.

The team we were playing wore all white. They were not dirty. No mud stains. No grass stains. Just pure white uniforms with shiny white helmets. I do not remember any markings on them at all.

My first memory was that I was lined up under the center and was calling for the snap. I did not look down field as far as I can recall. I just looked at their defensive line and our offensive line. The grass was green and torn up in places from previous action. The hash marks and yard lines were all present in their white chalkyness. The crowd was an out of focus Kaleidoscope of color.

I said the right word, not that I know what it was, and the ball was snapped into my waiting hands. I turned to the right and dropped back a few yards. Running toward me was Bears defensive star Brian Urlacher. This did not strike me as odd. It should have. Why was he on the field with the offense? I only wonder about this now that I am awake. I was staring through my face mask and through Brians face mask and he was coming at me like a truck. I remember holding the football with both hands and pointing it out to the right so Mr. Urlacher could take it like a good running back and turn down field.

Before that happened the dream went bizarro. Not that it wasn't already bizarro. I would just call this a "post-Bears-Super-bowl-dream" were it not for the surprise ending.

Urlacher slowed in his run and grabbed the bottom of his jersey. He actually ripped it as he pulled it over his mammoth shoulders and his helmet covered head. He dropped his Bears jersey to the ground. Underneath it he was wearing a clean jersey. It was white. As his Bears jersey went over his helmet it reappeared as one matching the white helmets of the bad guys. (I thought good guys were supposed to wear white?)

I did not have much time to think about this as Mr. Urlacher was running at me again. I remember retreating in a direction that was parallel to the left side of the Bear offensive line. My natural reaction was to slide between my blockers and hopefully they would manage to spare my life. That's when I noticed that they all were now wearing white jerseys and white helmets.

The rest of the dream is pretty chaotic. I do not remember pain. And there was still no sound. But my teammates pounced on me like real bears would if I had been covered with honey. I remember the pushing, shoving, grabbing and eventual throwing to the ground. From there I looked up to find that they were not finished just because I was down. The ground merely formed the firm foundation for the beating that followed. The pushing turned to smashing. The shoving turned to squashing. The grabbing turned to stomping. I remember a quick thought of not understanding. Of wondering why my team had turned on me. I was trying to help them accomplish their goal ... win the game. I guess my goal was not their goal.

That's about it. I woke up. I was not panicking. No jerking awake and screaming. No punching and clawing at the air. But I was soaked in sweat. No, I did not find any mysterious grass stains on my t-shirt as I changed. No cleat scars on my arms. Just slightly trembling hands and a deep and profound wondering.

I believe that my spiritual enemy hates me. Every now and then he gets a really good shot in. My best guess is that he did that a few minutes ago. Still, I am not sure. I am not making any claims. I had a tame meal this past evening and even went to church for bible study. Then I came home and listened to worship music on my ipod with my wife as we went to sleep. Maybe the bully snuck in and beat me up. Maybe he was trying to get me to reminisce about battles gone by. Maybe he was trying to get me to draw conclusions.

Or maybe it was just a dream.

Monday, February 05, 2007

I hate football

I hate football. I'm going bowling.