Haunted by Ol' Blue Eyes

I've been feeling pretty shitty lately, hung up on how different my life is now than what I imagined it would be. I was beginning to sink back into that depression that I suffered from last year and I found myself 'going through the motions.'

Then I had a dream. It was one of those profound dreams where you only remember small bits, but they're really important bits and the main character of the dream will kick your ass if you don't remember them. I dreamed that I was standing against a fence, staring out into the distance and feeling sorry for myself. Then I smelled cigarette smoke and I turned to find a man with a cigarette looking at me. At first I thought he wanted a piece of my pie, but then I realized that it was none other than Frank Sinatra.

This surprised me because I'm not a huge Frank Sinatra fan. I don't know any of his songs and I can't even place him in the timeline. When was he around? I don't know. We started talking and he asked me why I was so down. I don't remember telling him exactly what was bothering me, but I think he knew because ghosts know everything. He gave me a bit of advice - the kind of advice that older men who smoke give. He said "Who cares? Just do it." or "Just fuckin do it." or "Who gives a damn?" He said something like that. I don't remember exactly.

After receiving his sage advice, my friend Jack came to talk to us. He's one of the biggest Frank Sinatra fans around and I was thinking of a way to explain to him how Frank came to me. But Frank introduced himself and Jack asked him what he was going to do now. Frank said "I'm gonna go have a drink with my buddy boy here" and he shook my shoulder the way old men who smoke do. I told Frank that I couldn't drink because alcohol has a lot of complex carbohydrates and I was trying to lose my back fat and potbelly. Then Frank laughed and said "Crazy kid! I have no idea what you just said! Let's go."

I woke up feeling better than I did all week and decided to put Frank's advice to work. I didn't spend a whole lot of time picking my outfit for the day because "frankly" I didn't care. Sure my gym outfit didn't coordinate with my gloves, but who cares? Thanks, Frank!