that are ramping up the dreams.

I heard the ice creamman down the street, though I didn’t recognize the tune. I walked out to the mailbox with a fiver in my hand to get a tasty treat as the music stopped and began to recycle.

it was “Crazy train” being played on bells. Some of them were tiny like Jingle bells and others as big as a basketball. I could see that inside the van was a mechanism like a player piano playing the music. It was this arrangement, which I love.

The driver came into the back- it was a UPS van modified for the purpose, and you could still see the brown through some of the peeling paint. He asked me what I liked and I told him “Blueberries and cream”. He handed me a bar that was awesome; Later, as I woke I could still taste it on my tongue. I commented on the unusual music and his smile disapeared. ‘it’s the only roll I have. I’m trying to find someone who will make me something different” Apparently nearly a year of listening to the carillion version of Crazy Train had had it’s deleterious effects, and his wife was making him sleep in the shed with the tractor, as he was prone to waking up screaming the song at all hours.

I bid him adieu, and finished my ice cream. And then one of my co-workers stopped in front of the house. That’s it, I thought, I am NOT dreaming about work, no fucking way.