I'm About to Die and "The Build Team" Enters My Mind...Really?

What up my people? It's good to know that I'm only talking to COOL Webby Filesites today, as all of you I'm sure have begun applying my rules to being cool from the last entry. I'll accept all forms of payment for your gratitude, but I prefer crisp (non-consecutive) bills and/or nude photos (preferably female, but that's negotiable) sent to the email address on this blog. Thanks again...I'm glad to help.

Let's see here...there are many orders of business to discuss with you on this Monday morning.

First of all, Daylight Savings Time = stupid.

How difficult would it be to just set the clocks a half an hour in the middle and then keep the same time all year 'round? That way the "Daylight Traditionalists" get their extra sunlight that they can't live with out, and the "Getting Up An Hour Earlier When You Already Have to Get Up At 3 F***in' Thirty-ists" (me) don't have to make the unnecessary adjustment every spring. Works for me...how about you? Good? Good. Now that that's settled, what else?

I attended my Great Grandmother's birthday party yesterday at a nursing home in Galesburg, IL. Now, I know what you're thinking...who cares, boring, I'm hungry, etc. (well, maybe I don't know what you're thinking), either way. This wasn't just any birthday, this was an extra special day because my Great Grandmother turned 100 years old! That's pretty incredible in my world, and almost impossible to even fathom. Think about it. She was born in 1910. She's witnessed a ridiculous amount of our nation's history. World War I, the Women's Right to Vote, Babe Ruth, the Great Depression, the Nazi Regime, World War II, Pearl Harbor, Korea, the Civil Rights movement, J.F.K., Vietnam, a Man on the Moon, Nixon, the Miracle on Ice, the Gulf War, 9/11, Barack Obama, etc., etc. She's seen it all man! Everything! Well, everything except for a Cubs' World Series. A tip of the cap to you Grandma Lundeen.

I had a dream last night and I wanted to share it with you guys. I'll preface this by saying that I haven't vividly remembered a dream of mine in probably five years. For whatever reason, I can never recall my dreams, but last night I had a dream that is so indented into my brain that it is going to be hard for me to ever forget it. It's not that the dream is very elaborate or unique in any way, because it's not. It's simple, and I'm sure that most of you have had dreams that are very similar. I guess it's just the fact that I completely accepted my death last night and I want to share with you how I reacted in my time of self realization.

The three people that I was with in this particular dream have never entered my stream of unconsciousness in my entire life (they rarely even enter my conscious mind). One of them I speak to about three times a week. The other two I have only spoken to about ten times in my life, and never in a personal setting. It's pretty weird that they would be the ones to share in my first "remembered" dream in five years, but hey, who can explain these things anyway?

Here goes...

I was entering the lobby of the Hancock Building in downtown Chicago. It was understood in my mind that this was my place of employment (even though I've never worked in that building in my life). I was with Brendan McCaffrey (a friend of mine that I play basketball with and hang out with a couple of times per week...also, a former co-worker) and Boers and Bernstein (a popular Chicago sports radio duo who's show airs on the station that I used to work for. I've only actually produced their show once. It was about two years ago. I also don't listen to them very often anymore, so I'm clueless on why they were in there...). Weird, huh? Anyway, the four of us entered the Hancock Building together and were joking around about something. It turned out that Brendan and I were going to be producing their show that day, so we all walked together through the crowded lobby and headed toward the studio. The four of us entered the elevator along with about five other people. The doors closed, and we started our journey up to the 25th floor. When we got to about the 23rd floor, the elevator shook for a second, made a strange popping noise as if disconnecting from the cable, and then began to fall...plummeting toward the ground like a controlled roller coaster. We were done for. The second that we started to fall, everyone looked at me with a silent terror on their faces. Without hesitation (and without an ounce of fear in my voice) I said, "We're dead." (It seemed to be in the same tone of voice as Hawk Harrelson of the White Sox saying "He gone!"). At once, I closed my eyes and listened to the falling elevator hum it's way down the shaft, to our demise. As all of this was going down, two things entered my mind. The first thought was an episode of Mythbusters in which they demonstrated that if you're trapped in a falling elevator, even if you were to jump in the air right before it hit the ground, the momentum would still kill you. The other thing was whether or not I was going to pray before my certain death. I thought about it for just a moment, and then whispered to myself:

"God, please forgive me for not believing in you."

Then I woke up.

Everyone that knows me (and all of you that have ever read this blog) know that I'm not a religious man. In fact, I believe that religion causes far more bad/dangerous things in this world than provides good for people. Having said that, I've never claimed to be an Atheist either. I guess that I just hate labels. The fact of the matter is that NO ONE is 100% certain about any of it. Not the Pope, not your Rabbi, not your mom, not your grandma, not that freaky religious guy on the corner, not you...NO ONE. We're all clueless and we all just kind of run around living our minuscule little lives until we eventually shrivel up and die. As sad as that may sound to you, that's the way it is...but I did learn something about myself last night. As strong as my opinions are on most/all things on this here planet of ours, it's obvious that I don't completely disregard the existence of a higher power. As scary and illogical as that is to me, the proof is in the pudding. When the chips were down on the table and I was convinced that my life was completely over last night, I said a prayer for the first time since I was 14. I'm not sure what any of this all means, but I AM willing to swallow my pride and share my hypocrisies with all of you out here in the blogosphere...

AND I'm as open as a Wal-Mart to your insight...

Hit me up on facebook or in the comments section of this blog. Right now I'm listening to "Away from the Numbers" by The Jam. A "poor man's" Clash in my opinion. Drink of Choice: Monday Joe.

Later,
Webby