All names, times and sketchy details are well, sketchy. This is a morphine-drip induced technicolor hallucination, after all.
The scene opens with me standing in a decrepit street around sundown, looking at the front of a dive bar/club that I have apparently just bought. The street looks almost post apocalyptic; grimy, trash strewn, broken street lamps, etc. This is a tough neighborhood and the club fits right in.
I go inside and see Dan Ackroyd, in full Blues Brother regalia sitting at a small dimly lit table. I go over to see if it’s really him and see that his companion is sitting with his jacket over his head. I peel back the jacket just enough to recognize John Belushi, who grabs the coat back and re-covers himself snarling “Leave me alone!”
There is a fracas behind me and I turn to the door to see some dude, dressed like an extra in The Warriors movie ( or the “Beat It” video) yell “The Comstock is mine! and swing a pool cue at me. I grab a cue off the crummy rack and chase him outside where he and about five similarly dressed ruffians engage me in a stylized pool cue fight, like a ritual dance and I win.
I’m now inside and Former Owner (FO) guy and his friends are now MY friends, evidently, and they take their places at the dimly lit tables among the featureless dark blobs of customers. John Candy walks by without a word and sits down.
This has to be Chicago.
My niece Julie arrives while FO is showing me the hidden door to an immaculate studio where they make MTV videos (I’m old). Julie hands me her wedding dress in one of those dry cleaner storage boxes and asks me to keep it safe. I agree and place it on a shelf somehow. She smiles and leaves.
There’s a crowd of new ruffians out side chanting “Comstock! Comstock!” and waving pool cues. FO, his boys and I all grab cues and rush outside for another ritual fight-dance. We all return as friends and I begin to look around at the club. Parts of the ceiling/roof are missing, but not in a chi-chi Beer Garden sort of way. More like urban rubble. It looks like the Boston Coconut Grove would have after a quick sweep and return to business as usual.
I turn around and there’s a boy about twelve year old in a body stocking wearing Julie’s dress, holding it up with both hands. He says that if I give him the dress to wear, he’ll make sure no one breaks into the club. Naturally, I agree and he happily skips out the door holding up the gown.
As I watch him go, a stout man dressed like Nathan Lane’s character in “The Birdcage” but without the wig walks swiftly by. I’m told that he is (some name) and works in the nearby convenience store.
The dream ends with me and all my new friends waving pool cues and walking up the middle of the street together. Another, similar crowd appears over the crest of the hill and we all begin chanting “Comstock! Comstock!” and embrace each other as some indecipherable credits roll up the screen over us. Comstock, I guess, is finally in safe hands.
The End.
Let the psychoanalyzing begin.
Oh yeah. I don’t have cancer anymore. That part is real life.
Now, I'm Just Amused. 
Woo-Hoo, these blogs get better n’ better…..Welcome back Jeffman,and wonderful news your “c” is gone!!!.. Best, G.
Sent from my iPad
>
Congratulations on your recovery. But – one question – did you not have cancer to begin with or did they get it all?
Yeah, I’m told I did. The biopsy on the bile tube blockage said it was small and well contained. Then it was originally “go home and think about it for two weeks and we’ll take it out after Thanksgiving weekend”. But my BWH Dr. Clancy (Who will never pay for drink in my presence) jumped a few hoops and had me on the table a week early. The final pathology report said that it was all gone. I cried like a baby.
Am so glad to hear this! (I am sure almost as glad as you are!) Are they going to make you go through the chemo or radiation still?
Hurray for Dr. Clancy!!!!
My best to Betty for taking such wonderful care of you! She is the best!
No chemo, no ray guns, Jeff dodged a bullet.
Hope to see you sometime soon.
Best, Jeff
awesome story, BTW. Always enjoy your ramblings!
So I don’t get it. Was this whole thing just a cry for attention?????
I’m going to try to round up Rich McQ and Bill Gillis for a group visit. When are you accepting house callers?
What is it now, ten, twelve years? And now you finally hear my anguished cries?
Anyway, you could drop over some time during the week. I’m sure Richie could make some neighborhood calls.
Spoke with Kenny Sinick today. He’s well. We are both glad we retired.
I can’t drive until Christmas or so, so any weekday afternoon you can be in Marshfield, home of the division 2 MIAA Super Bowl Champion Rams..
Rich, Bill G and I will be visiting you this coming Friday afternoon. It’s a long drive, so you better get “You’re Sick” on good by then. Will call when we’re 80 miles out. Will need your house address.
By the way, I’ll report our findings at the Esco Christmas party.
Sounds a bit familiar only on one point … Coming back from al red priest a car with two males in a car sarted to haress us on the way home and they followed us to the corner and we came out swinging chasing them up mt.veron st.beat them to a pulp and gave them directions home and I won’t mentioned who I hit with the chain
I remember. We were the worst gang in the world.
We drank beer with them and gave them directions home.