A Dream I Had About Carl Reiner
With Commentary
by T. Mike
The Dream:
I’m in a car with comedian/actor/writer/director Carl Reiner. It’s a young version of him, so young he actually has hair! The car is black and of older, if indeterminate vintage, late 1950s to early 1960s. Carl is drving, I’m in the front passenger seat. He’s started the car and we’re about to pull away from the curb, when I realize my cat is sitting on the hood close to the windshield, by the passenger seat. I quickly reach out the open window to grab her. Some combination of my inadequate grabbing, and the cat struggling cause me to lose my grip and the cat starts to fall to the ground. I manage to grab her tail. Now here’s where some weird dream effects kick in, and several things happen at once. I’m horrified of course, and quickly haul in the cat by her tail to the safety of the car. But for a horrifing second, the cat is on her back on the asphalt being dragged along almost behind the car. But, of course, cat tails just aren’t that long. Nor do cats survive that. The whole time I’m doing this I’m chanting “Stop the car! Stop the car! Stopthecar! Stoptthecar!” But not only does Reiner NOT stop the car, I swear, for the instant the cat is on the ground, the damn car SPEEDS UP!
So the cat is safely in my arms where I am hugging it tight to make sure it doesn’t freak out and get away from me and in any more trouble. Eventually Reiner pulls over and I’m like “Dude, did you NOT hear me saying ‘Stop the car’!? Or did you just not pay attention? When somebody starts saying stop the car OVER AND OVER again, you STOP THE CAR!” He doesn’t even have the decency to act sheepish. And then after I say something like “Dude, you OWE me! Big time!” Reiner starts talking about how when I tell this story about him and the cat, I should start it with this time he paid for a $21.95 dinner with 22 dollars, leaving a nickel tip. So not only does he not care about almost killing my cat, he’s trying to help me punch up the story of him almost killing my cat!
I would be more outraged, but then the dream turned into something about how I had decided to feed my old car to a couple of newer cars. But the newer cars just sort of nibbled on it, and then drove off playing with a giant ball, driving into it to “kick” it, and then chasing after it. And the cars were really bad at it ’cause they were cars.
Analysis:
I think this dream is about the incompatibility of compassion and comedy. I’ve always felt that it’s comedy’s job to be nasty and vicious, but in a smart and sharp way, like a knife, and not gratiuitous and disgusting way, like a handful of poo. Well, people get hurt either way, and um… that’s a bad thing. Not as bad as deliberately speeding up the car while trying to haul in a cat by the tail, mind you.
Reiner is telling me that tragedy can be mined for comedy, that everything is grist for the mill. But for God’s sake, punch it up a little! Make it interesting! But so complete is his heartlessness, he deliberately speeds up the car either as some kind of joke on me, or in an Andy Kaufman-esque move, speeds up the car so that my story of the event I will tell later will be better. Weirdo!
But as for me, I chose the cat. I guess I haven’t got the large cohones nor the icy heart needed to rip into everything and everyone.
The thing about the cars eating each other and “kicking” the ball around, I have NO freaking idea what that means. I haven’t even seen that Cars movie yet.
Conclusions:
1. Carl Reiner was handsome before he went bald.
2. Cats are more important than jokes.
3. If someone keeps saying “stop the car,” then STOP THE DAMN CAR ALREADY!
I thank you for your time.