It’s been quite a while since I had one of my classic Vegas dreams where I am old man somehow still going to the yearbook convention. I attended two in my real life while still in high school and now I have far more vivid memories of the dream versions than I do of the actual experiences.
The original Yearbook weeks were not in Vegas, but for a time, most of my serial dreams too place there, frequently in the same hotel off the strip. I find it ironic that my Vegas dreams almost never had anything to do with Last Vegas casinos or anything. They were always just in a Hotel off the strip, and I could never get anyone interested to go with me to a show or visit any part of traditional Vegas.
Usually the dream consisted of me either being proud or ashamed that I was an old man still scamming this discounted trip because it was a great experience. This year seemed like it may be my last because I’m 62 now. Somehow it seemed acceptable when I was 50. I told stories of how yearbooks were made back in my day, before co.puters and the internet. Before AI.
Then I met a 98 year old woman who had also been coming on these trips and it made me reconsider how I might be interpreted as old and creepy.
The dream transitioned to me showing a few kids how I could fly. I felt down, so I pulled out that old classic dream stunt to get my praise level back up. I was fun, not weird.
Many of my old dream hits were touched on. The all you can eat buffets were as I remember them being. Vegas is no longer as great as it is in my dream universe, which is why I dream it so often I guess. A refresher memory I enjoy among a life with less adventure.
The only negative was the game room. It always disappoints, and the pool cue selection it’s mostly short and tipless. Arcade games are not exciting to kids today so it was worse than usual.
I love my dreams. I’m always sad to wake up from one.
