Posted by: normanlgreen | November 16, 2011

Dream, November 16, 2011 townshend & campgrounds

Dream, Home 6:20 am

Pete Townshend and I are traveling across the country. We end up at a campground where a family has trouble transporting all of their backpacks and other equipment to their camp site. Pete and his son go ahead with the family. The back pack that I carry, with one strap over my shoulder, is so heavy that I can only take a few steps at a time. People behind me – the camp is a commercial effort and very crowded with people and tents. The people behind me whisper sympathy, and advice, but do nothing to make it any easier. some of them pass the word that Pete is staying over — rumours of an impromptu concert.

I get discouraged with the pack that keeps slipping off my shoulder, and when I see Pete approaching me on the pathway, I lay the stuff down and let him deal with it. I walk away.

There is a central store to the campground, a two-story white stucco place built-in the twenties– starting to moss up on the low points of the outside walls. There are two staircases, front and rear. I climb the back stairs and find there is a bookstore on the top floor. I never make it into that store. I believe the sign is old and no long applies to the contents.

I exit through the front of the building and find that Pete and his son have stretched out my big old sleeping bag on the path.  Not a cocoon sack like modern design, but a wide flap of stuffing that zips along three edges — three feet across even when zipped closed.  Pete and his son are sharing it instead of having gotten their own bags from the car. They insist that as big as it is, we can share it. they use a low hedge as a prickly pillow.

A young tough comes up and makes vulgar comments. I tell him that these two are my brother and nephew. The tough walks away muttering “I should have known.” I tell him that he should have.


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