(I've met the guy--Brian Allen--in the maroon and blue racing silks)

I had a dream last night--well, had a lot of dreams, really. Never eat pizza before bedtime, ey? Oh yeah, dreamed I was working at the harness race track, shoveling manure--while all my "friends"--dream friends, not real one's, no clue who these people in my dream actually were), anyway, I'm shoveling manure--in a harness race stable--while my dream "friends" are coming in with their horses--and all of them are bragging, because they'd just one big ribbons and championships at some hunter-jumper horse show--oh, I was happy for them, and they were all nice to me, but--what the heck were hunter-jumpers doing in a harness racing barn?

Oh, I don't mind the demotion to manure mover--best job I ever had was as a stablehand--manure, who cares? Very low pay, no benefits, no hospitalization, and sometimes considerable pain? So what? I loved it, anyway. I got to be outside all day, all on my own (mostly), with horses (and a cat and two dogs), and fresh air and no time clocks/cards, loads of excercise (lost 50 pounds in 6 months just lifting and working) And, except for the times when I fell in the manure spreader, got knocked out cold getting hit in the head by a weaver (a horse that swings its head back and forth out of boredom), run over by a horse, bitten in the arse by a Shetland pony, nipped in the arm daily by a thick-headed quarter horse, nearly had my face frostbitten, and had to lay on my back in a foot of snow, using my shoulder to lift a 300 pound sliding barn door back on its track--otherwise, it was fantastic--adored my job, most days. So, I suppose it was a good dream, if a bit odd.

I had another dream, that we kids on the street I grew up on were playing by the Delaware and Hudson tracks, down the hill, when a big train came by--it leaped the tracks and chased us! Under the highway overpass and straight into the village park's baseball diamond! Then, abruptly, we were all playing softball together, nice sunny summer day, and everything was fine.

We used to have little "myths" we'd make up, to scare each other. Most freight engines that went through the village, were the familiar gray/blue/yellow D & H engines--but some were black, as well--old engines, I was told, from the former New York Central line. Someone made up the "myth" or game, where, if the engine was black, you had to get your feet off of the ground, because if your feet touched the ground when a black engine was passing, it would drag you into hell. Nice, ey?

There was a similar myth, that if you walked on a fresh grave in the Catholic cemetery adjoining our street--you would go to hell when you die.

Yet another variation--we lived with the remains of a lovely old Victorian-era estate in our backyard--loads of gardens, moss-covered paths--and a somewhat high wooden footbridge. There was a myth, that if you walked over the bridge and the sun went behind a cloud--if you didn't get off the bridge right away, the bridge would collapse next time you used it.

Likewise, in the 1930's-era teahouse in the estate's Japanese garden, there was a notion that if you went in there at night, there was a ghost in the cupboards, and it would come out and eat you.

Oh yeah, who needs video games--I think we managed to have a good scare and adventure, and we didn't have to spend a dime on games or equipment, to do it.