Skip to main content

Dream On

This is the way my mind works – repetition, repetition, repetition – this is how I remember things. Movies, television, happy things, yucky things; nothing useful. I will watch movies in my head over and over again, on a continuous loop; usually three or four or even five at a time. Movies that are in no way related to each other, scenes interspersed, answering one another; over and over and over again. It’s not done on purpose. It’s only vaguely irritating.

For every exchange I have with another person, every exchange I overhear, every thought I have, a movie or t.v. quote will instantly pop into my head as a response
to whatever is being said. I know I can’t possibly be the only person whose mind works this way, but I’ve yet to meet anyone who can relate and I feel so very alone in the world because of it. Or…I would, if there had never been a television series based upon this type of thought process. This is the fun part. This is a very exciting time for me, because I just gave myself the opportunity to re-visit a much beloved and obscure series.

In 1990, an adult comedy-drama, created by David Crane and Marta Kauffman, premiered on HBO. If I am not mistaken it was HBO’s first long-running series; possibly, the first cable series of its kind. The show was called “Dream On” and it starred the delectable Brian Benben (Brian Benben, still married to the devastatingly beautiful Madeleine Stowe) as a book editor named “Martin Tupper”. Martin was always getting laid. That’s not important, it’s just something I appreciated. He was a classic Baby Boomer and very much a product of his generation; raised on television and, possibly, SPAM. Martin could not get through a conversation, or even process a single thought, without having a random scene from a t.v. show or movie invade his head at exactly the right moment. I mean, they were random, but entirely appropriate; always entirely appropriate. 

I loved this show! Because I could relate to it. I was relating to what, now? A bumbling divorced man in his forties, who is a sad role model for his teenage son, and who can’t hold onto a meaningful romantic relationship to save his life.

Wow. That was an oddly-shaped revelation and a half. Maybe I do need a psychiatrist.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Time Piece

I was given my first watch when I was 5 or 6 years old.  The face featured a little girl with blond braids (Swiss Miss-like).  The band was a kind of sea foam green shiny plastic; the kind of plastic that begs to be gnawed on, which I did.  I loved having the watch because it made me feel grown up.  I hated the watch itself because it was babyish.  (I remember my brother, Andrew, trying to sell me on how cool and classy it was, once when I was lamenting over it.  I wasn't impressed with his argument.)  I'm not sure when it disappeared, or to where it disappeared, but I was missing it by the time I was ready to start college.  I had only applied to one school. Bradford College was located in Haverhill, Ma, about 90 minutes north of Boston. A small liberal arts college, Bradford was founded in 1803 and closed its doors in 1998, the year I would have graduated, had I not made some poor choices. Haverhill wasn't exactly a happeni...

Menopause, Mammograms and Biopsies

Let’s just take a step back for a moment or two and consider the pause of the menses persuasion. Let’s, at least, consider my own experience in the past year (or two, or three, or however long it’s been going on for). I got my first period in October or November of 1988, when I was 12 years old. I was pissed. All I could see were decades ahead of pain, discomfort, stickiness, messiness, inconvenience etc. I couldn’t wait for menopause. End this misery! Are we up to speed? Great. Now, let’s jump ahead 29 or 30 years and backtrack a couple more, to when the real fun started.  (Warning: Some people might consider the details that I am about to put forth, to be “TMI.” Those people would be wrong. I am offering the exact amount of “I” required. Swallow it.) It was late September or early October of 2015 when my lady parts began to feel a bit wonky. (Just jump right in, the water’s fine.) Now, I’ve had my share of yeast infections over the years. What woman hasn’t? (If you just ra...