My Dream Life is FAR More Interesting Than Reality!
Let me start by reminding new readers that vivid dreaming is part and parcel of the Parkinson’s experience. Every now and then, I have a dream that is sufficiently weird to where I like to share it with my readers.

OK, so I find myself in a hotel in midtown Manhattan. I have an appointment in the morning at Sirius Satellite Radio where a pal of mine from my XM days is supposed to meet me and get me in for an interview for a program director’s job.
I get there early and since I no longer have an XM ID badge, have to be buzzed in. They tell me to wait in this side room with a bunch of empty tables and chairs, so I do.
A few minutes later, a lady walks in and tells me that she told someone else HE had the first interview. Only, she was interviewing people to make waffles in the cafeteria, not for a program director position. So, I had to leave the room.
I went back out to the lobby and checked my cell phone for messages from my friend to see why he was late. Not a word.
So, I left and went back to work at a radio station in West Bend, Wisconsin where I worked part-time in the early 90s. I had the overnight shift, and they had done some sort of restructuring to the studio. The microphone, tape players, turntables and all that were gone. There was easy-listening music playing, and there was a list of the songs being played taped to the front of a machine. But there was no way for a live announcer to interact with the music. All I could do was sit there.
Then, in the early morning, staff started to arrive. I tried telling the General Manager that there would soon be dead air because the last few songs on the list were playing and I had no idea where to find another tape — or whatever it was — that was playing. He ignored me.
The station engineer showed up, only he was another friend of mine from my XM days. I told him the same thing, and he went into his desk drawer and pulled out a bunch of charts and schematics so he could figure out what to do.
The last song finished, followed by dead air. “There’s your dead air,” I announced to no one in particular. I went outside to my car to drive home.
That’s when a border collie nudged my bed and started whining because it was nearly 6 am and she hadn’t been in the yard since 1.
Once again, reality intrudes.
Now, TAKE THE POLL!

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