The Rig Bee

by good2begone


My involuntary occurrences in the mind are usually forgotten within moments after awakening.

Dreamssuccessions of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that occur involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep.

Occasionally, they stick around in quick flashes to remind me they occurred.

Like a fly that can’t be swatted but won’t be ignored.

The following are the snippets from a dream I had this past week….Complete with the lyrics to the song that accompanied the images and sensations.

Where it came from….I don’t know.
What it means….I don’t know.
Maybe, writing it down might shed some light on the ideas from the dark.

I am exiting a building. As I walk the shadowed street, figures pass from a distance with their jackets pulled tight over their torsos, as if it were cold.

“Ah look at all the lonely people
Ah look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice
In the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face
That she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for”

The rain begins to fall all around me. Yet I stay dry. The jacketed people disappear. I glance at a window and notice a party with a magician. The crowd cheers as he raises a bunny from his top hat. He waves his wand, the bunny turns to mist. The mist begins to choke the crowd. I watch as they claw over each other and at the window trying to escape, as the magician has the appearance that he is conducting an orchestra.

“All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

I am distracted as a chubby child scurries past me wearing a mariachi band uniform, complete with sombrero. I yell to him,

“You better slow down or you are going to trip!”

He turns and growls at me, revealing fangs and long claws.

He then jumps on all fours into a puddle and begins lapping water.

He looks at me, growls again, then jumps up and runs toward the window where the people are stuck in the mist.

He spits mud on the window, then sits and watches the commotion on the other side of the glass.

He turns toward me and smiles.

Father McKenzie, writing the words
Of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working, darning his socks
In the night when there’s nobody there
What does he care
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?”

I walk on, dry as a bone in the sheets of rain. I watch lightning strike a tree, only it doesn’t return to the sky. It remains like a lighted staircase to the sky.

“Ah look at all the lonely people
Ah look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby, died in the church
And was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt
From his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved”

As the rain begins to let up, the pathway I walk leads to the hallway of my bedroom. I push the door open and see myself sleeping, next to my wife as I was before I went to sleep.

I am smiling, similarly to the smile from the mariachi boy.

At my feet, is a bunny with a wand, held up between its paws.

“All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?”

I then awaken.

Confused.

Bemused.

And quite frankly a bit befuddled at the events that have transpired in my mind.

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Lyrics from “Eleanor Rigby” written by Paul McCartney and John Lennon

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