Dreams from a past life…

I had a dream last night. Before someone asks, no it wasn’t about equality, justice, or peaceful coexistence, which I guess if you know me isn’t really all that surprising. What is surprising is that I remember the dream at all. I’m sure that like everyone else on the planet, I have plenty of dreams at night, but it’s extremely rare for me to remember them at all when I wake up. Occasionally I’m vaguely aware that I had a dream, but remembering anything about it almost never happens… Which I suppose makes last night’s stand out more vividly.

In the early 2000s I was introduced to the now defunct Baltimore nightlife institution, Bohager’s. The “Bohdome” was an all purpose concert venue, bar, grille, meat market, and only slightly disguised illicit drug emporium. The cavernous space offered up five bars, a DJ or live music depending on the night, an all-you-can-drink $15 or 20 cover, and a live action version of Girls Gone Wild: Spring Break Edition. The place reeked of stale smoke and spilled booze, testosterone, and cheap thrills. There was a while there in my early 20s when I wanted to move in.

Bohager’s has been a parking lot/condo development for the better part of a decade now, but I was there in Fell’s Point last night, back on my favorite perch just between the upper level bar and the railing, with the best view of the stage and the dance floor below. And I mean it was real; so real I could taste the cigarette smoke and off brand rum in my mouth when I woke up this morning. That’s why I know it must have been a dream since I haven’t had a smoke in over two years now and it’s been a hell of a lot longer than that since I drank cheap alcohol.

It’s strange the things that come to us in our dreams. I could spend hours analyzing what I think it means and why my brain took me there last night. Instead of making much of a deal out of it, I think I’ll just smile and appreciate the happy memory… and maybe raise a glass or two tonight in honor of times long past.

Saucer…

The list of things about Memphis that I’ll miss isn’t all that long, but the Flying Saucer is somewhere near the top of it. I haven’t been in as much after my perennial drinking buddies took off for greener pastures, but walking in even rarely as i do, it’s like I’ve been here every weekend. Same corner booth, same smartass servers, same schoolgirl skirts. Good stuff. It’s as close to a “third place” as I’ve found in Memphis. And to Ashley and the rest of the beer goddesses, all I can say is thanks for the good times and for keeping the suds cold. If you’re ever looking to trade barbecue for steamed crab, look me up.