Sunday, September 18, 2011

dear john

John stormed into the seventies a killer bee and a samurai.  We never knew what to expect from this guy.  He was a funny man who had a hard time remembering his lines.  No one ever noticed because he carried himself with so much confidence and spunk.  We all loved him.  Belushi was an original.

I still miss John.  I really admired his talent.
I felt he robbed us with his death, with a mixture of heroine and cocaine.

Shortly after his death, I had a dream about meeting him on the hill in my backyard.  He had just finished digging a deep hole.  He left the shovel lay behind him.  I went outside and climbed up the hill to see who he was and what he was up to.  It was John Belushi, but he wasn't like the John Belushi I had seen on both little and big screen.

I asked him if in fact he was John Belushi.  He blew smoke from his last cigarette he was smoking.  He didn't say anything, but did look up to acknowledge my presence and answered with a nod.  I sat down next to him, but didn't feel he wanted a conversation.  He didn't seem to mind me keeping him quiet company.  I realized in my dream that he had died, I just didn't know why he was sitting on the hill in my backyard.  As I sat down, he paid me no mind, just looking straight forward, taking in that smoke.

It was a very somber-melancholy dream. This Belushi I encountered was in a very sad and hopeless place. I had a thousand questions and thoughts, but the only words that I could find was, "I'm sorry".   He looked over at me.  We briefly made eye contact. His eyes and set expression told me exactly what he was thinking.  "I blew it".

He was smoking his last, and after it, he stood up, looked around for a moment, and then climbed down into the hole that he had dug.  I stood there and watched helplessly over his slow steady descent - until he disappeared from my sight.

I know it was just a dream, but it was very real one to me.  I can't think of him without remembering that dream.
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