Once again I remember some dreams I had the other night.

The weather is getting warmer, which means the nights are getting warmer, which means it isn’t as cool in the bedroom overnight for sleeping and so I can’t find the right amount of coverings some nights, which in turn means I wake up a lot.

And that sometimes means that I remember more of my dreams.

One of them involved Bill Woodside.

I mentioned him previously in in a post that practically nobody read. I think that’s because it had a boring title: Harrisburg Bachelors. That was my working title and I never bothered to change it to something more interesting, like say, A Scurrilous Article. Anyway for one reason or another hardly anybody read that one. Which is a shame, as I thought it was a fun one.

So Bill Woodside was in my dream. I was at some sort of dinner and found myself sitting next to Bill and he looked just like he did 45 years ago when I last saw him. If he’s still alive he would probably be in his 90s, I would guess.

In my dream I was asking him questions, like what was Harrisburg like these days, and was he still in touch with Mark. Mark (I don’t recall his last name) had been his protégé back in the day. His answers in the dream, as best as I can recall them, convinced me that he was pretty well senile, even though he looked the same as he did back then.

So what does that dream mean? I really don’t think dreams mean anything other than that they are clearing houses for the crap that’s in one’s head. I had written about Bill a few weeks ago, so maybe that explains it. Or perhaps my brain was keying in on the fact that he was a Republican and it was checking in on Republicans I had known back in the day. I really would like to believe that if Bill is still around and still competent that he would be appalled by what has happened to the party that he had served.

The second dream that I can slightly recall involved sitting and watching some sort of outdoor event. I was in the front row and the next thing I knew there was a line of kids sitting down on the ground in front of me, and I felt cramped in. That’s all I recall of that dream.

The third one is just bizarre. I was performing the Forging Song from Act I of Wagner’s Siegfried, and performing it quite well, if I do say so myself.

Then something happened, I’m not sure what, but I think someone saw me and I began running, but it was like I was running and hopping around on some very stylized bleachers. I was very athletic and nimble on my feet.

And then I woke up.

Don’t ask me what that means, because I have no idea. I have never had the urge to sing Siegfried at the Metropolitan Opera.

But I do recall mentioning to Bill Woodside that Siegfried was my favorite of Wagner’s Ring operas, or music dramas, so perhaps there’s a connection there between the dreams.