Recent Posts
April 18th, 2011 in Uncategorized by gaily
No, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. (We tell people it means ballpoint cat, and they sometimes believe it). It’s the first two letters of each of our names. Gail Bixler and Tom Rodgers, acoustic duo. It’s a dream I’ve had for a long time…just two people, playing guitars, singing at local pubs, corporate events, wine bars, and having fun.
We’ve uploaded some videos on youtube if you care to watch. We are of the eclectic genre, if we have to be in a genre at all. Currently writing original music, but love the obscure covers. Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Grateful Dead, John Prine. That sort of thing. Come listen to us on youtube and subscribe! We upload new videos every few days. It’s a dream come true. Just look up Gato Biro on youtube! (or gatobiro.com) Thanks, everyone! (and now that I’ve remembered my password, I’ll get around to logging more dreams) 
Gato Biro-Harvest Moon (Neil Young cover)
January 25th, 2010 in Uncategorized by gaily
Dream Jan. 19:
My lips are pressed into his neck. He tastes like salt. Our warm fingers interlaced. I pull him closer…and he asks me to dance.
dance, Tom
January 25th, 2010 in Uncategorized by gaily
Dream January 18, 2010
The car in front of me runs over a kitten. It is still alive, but dragging his back feet. A hole is in his side. I look around as I make a right turn after the car that hit him. Slowly. I proceed through the light, and notice there are dead cats all along the gutters of the road.
I have two choices. One is to pick up his dragging half-body, and try to revive him. The other, well…I am trying to do the brave thing. I know he’s not going to make it, so my only decision is to put him out of his misery. I am crying. I wake up before I have to do anything drastic.
January 15th, 2010 in Uncategorized by gaily
dream at 3:01 AM, 1/15/10 (I seem to have my share of car wreck dreams, but then, I’ve had my share of car wrecks during my life, one quite serious)
The Wreck:
Three of us are in a building off of NASA Road 1 in Seabrook. It’s me, my SO (but have no idea who), and my daughter, Kate. She asks to take my car to go down NASA 1 towards Kemah. She just got her drivers license, so I am reluctant, but give her the keys anyway since I know I have to let go. She leaves the building and we hear sirens very shortly after she turns left onto the busy road. I run up to the second floor (with my significant other) and look out the window onto NASA 1.
To the left, a car has crashed into a concrete wall and there’s nothing left of it. I panic, and look for evidence that it isn’t my daughter. I hold my stomach and double over when I see a fragment of red metal. Her car (my car) is red (only in this dream). I begin sobbing, unable to stand up. He (my significant other) hugs me from behind and tells me that it’s okay…to look at the color again. At his suggestion, I force myself to stand up and look. The color of the car is tan. I wake up.
*Couldn’t go back to sleep until 3:35. I finally get back to sleep and have this dream:
The Quay
A voice says out loud to me, “he left something for you by the quay…and then he spells it out loud to me-”q-u-a-y”. I don’t have a clue as to what he’s talking about, so I wake up once again (it’s now 5:01 am) and google it.
Regardless of it’s purpose, it’s a perfect distraction from the unsettling dream before. I experience this quite a bit…a healing or positive dream, after a tragic nightmare. Nightmares don’t bother me for too long. I can usually see the deeper meaning and (usually) don’t take them so hard.
This dream seems so much like a dream series I had when I was in my 20’s. They are documented dreams with my original art or doodles, in which a man narrated pieces of sepia-colored stories. He spelled words out to me at times. He even spelled his own name, Ebi Greene. Initially upon waking, I spelled the name without the “e” on the end. At some time during the night I woke up again to add the “e”, in red.
December 16th, 2009 in Uncategorized by gaily
Dream 12/12/09
I’m watching a group of teens killing mice with snow shovels. They are crying as they hit them with the shovels and bury them in the backyard. They have to hit them several times before they die. I’m heartbroken as I watch them suffer. I ask why they are killing mice. They tell me that someone has told them to. I track down the responsible person and tell him that the kids are being traumatized by this. He tells me that the mice need to be killed because they are eating his roses and that it’s good for the teens to realize that killing them is a necessary thing. I tell him the mice were here before he started planting and to lay off. He gets angry with me and lets me know that my opinion doesn’t matter. He doesn’t seem to care about the teens’ emotions.
I go back to the kids and tell them they can stop now, but they keep on as they were told, and inform me they can’t stop. I approach the man a second time. I shift my psychology and tell him that the mice feel pain and are suffering, hoping that maybe he has a heart. He asks me if I am sure about this and I say yes. He moves toward the teens and tells them that they can stop now. I’m relieved, but upset that he cares more about the mice than he does the kids.
October 6th, 2009 in Uncategorized by gaily
Dream last night:
I am with Marie (a musician friend of mine) and someone else that I don’t know. We are watching a sepia-tented street parade from a distance. A colored merry-go-round sitting on sepia tented grass, brightly decorated floats filled with people who look like they are in old photos. Little slices of color every once in a while come into view, but mostly sepia. A man from the distance is walking towards us. As he gets closer, I notice he wears bits of color. A gold and silver crown with royal jewels, a deep red robe the color of wine. He stands in front of me now, and points his finger directly at me, then motions for me to come to where he is. Marie is excited and tells me to go, that he is some one.
I’m shaking my head no. I ask her who he is and she looks at me like I’m insane. She loudly whispers, The Emperor!
I follow him into the crowd, grabbing her (reluctant) hand and dragging her along. I have no idea where we are going, but the atmosphere is becoming more colorful, the energy is electric.
I wake up.
September 9th, 2009 in Uncategorized by gaily
July 6th, 2009 in Uncategorized by gaily
Dream on Wed, Nov. 23, 2005
I am on a rooftop of red dirt & stone. There are many townspeople there also, looking up at the rooftops. Across, more people are on their own roofs, looking through binoculars down at people covering the hilly grounds. They are everywhere, for as far as I can see. I am looking at someone who resemles Mozart and is just about as mischievous, but I seem to love him anyway. I am puzzled as to who Machiavelli is, but keep hearing his name. I am dressed in layered long golden clothing. He is layered in red velvet cloth. I begin walking from the left of the rooftop, to the right corner.
A man approaches me to tell me something, in Italian, so I cannot understand all of it, just certain words. He’s just an ordinary man, and I almost dismiss him. I keep walking forward to the corner of the roof. I take a pipe, and breath into it, then out, deeply. It is some sort of air that is supposed to help with the ones who can’t breath well-or maybe some sort of legal drug.
A few people watch as I look down. On the ground are thousands of golden, sparkling relics. People have come from everywhere to throw the jewels and relics into the sky, offerings to God. I have thrown my treasures into the sky as well. This man, Machiavelli, has done the same. I see one on the ground and pick it up. It is a small ring with a heart in the middle. I want it so badly, but am unsure of the karma it would bring if I take it.
I stare at it in the palm of my hand while some man tells me, in Italian, that I am not supposed to take it because it was an offering. I dig for all of the euros and coins I have in my dress pocket. I look at the money and toss it onto the ground in the apex of the roof, into the dirt-filled corner where I found the ring. The money sparkles like the rest of the relics and other coins. I am feeling concerned that the ring might be worth far more than the euros I offered in it’s place.
I am thinking that it isn’t the value of the ring I care about, so that makes it easier to justify taking it. As I study the ring closely, and look into the center of the heart, I realize it is ancient. It looks as if a bird has pecked out the heart with his beak. But, I am sure I need it. A voice (Machiavelli’s I believe) is telling me that it is okay to take it-good to take it even. It is a gift especially for me. I really want to keep it.
Upon further inspection, it turns out the ring is made of wood and the heart is missing, but my own heart is telling me that it is worth more than a ring of gold.
June 14th, 2009 in Uncategorized by gaily
Last night’s dream:
I’m walking up and down curved sidewalks, in a town I don’t know. I see a lady through a dirty window of an empty apartment. She’s cleaning. Old violin and guitar cases are on the covered porch, looking dusty and hot. I start to pick up a violin case, just to see if the weight is heavy enough for it to be occupied by a violin. I open it.
The violin is curvy, like the sidewalks I am walking. It smells like Spruce and dirt, a heavy scent that almost makes me sneeze. For a split second, I think of taking it due to it’s obvious abuse. It’s wasting on a sidewalk porch, and I’ll give it a better home, I’m thinking. I look around at the other cases, wondering what they hold. I think better of taking it, and put it down.
The lady inside cleaning walks out to the covered porch. She’s a happy woman, with a grin like she knows me. I ask her about the instruments. She speaks to me as if I’m an old friend, telling me to take some of them. All of the sudden I feel like I shouldn’t. Oh no, I say, please let me pay you for them. No, take some of them, she says. I notice she doesn’t tell me to take all of them, and begin to wonder what she’s going to do with them. I ask. She tells me that the owner is someone else, but she’s sure she doesn’t mind, as she is on her way to take them to a shop. I ask which one, and she points to a few, one of which was the one I first chose. I’m happy. I pick it up to leave, and she points to another part of the porch. It’s a jewelry table, she says. Take it!
I wake up.
Oh wow. A happy dream.
June 4th, 2009 in Uncategorized by gaily
