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Dreamscape: Real Dreams Really Make a Difference
Dreamscape: Real Dreams Really Make a Difference
Dreamscape: Real Dreams Really Make a Difference
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Dreamscape: Real Dreams Really Make a Difference

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A collection of biographical stories and poems about fascinating people in history whose real dreams made a real difference. Developed in performance, these stories bring old tales to life for contemporary readers in a way that is both entertaining and informative. Did You Know? • Einstein was a high school dropout. • Josephine Baker was a secret agent for the French Resistance during World War Two. • Sacajawea was the only woman who traveled with Lewis and Clark's expedition, and carried her baby the whole way. • The Supreme Court decided in 1962 that Nicola Tesla was the real inventor of the radio. • Philipp Reis invented the first telephone. • The medical symbol of the python dates back to the brave ancient African Queen Mella. These fascinating facts and more are contained in Dreamscape: Real Dreams Really Make a Difference. A collection of biographical stories and poems about fascinating people in history whose real dreams made a real difference, it was developed in performance by the author, who captured audiences at clubs like the Nuyorican Poetry Cafe in New York City, and at her series "Listen & Be Heard." The stories about people who followed their dreams and changed the world, bring old tales to life for contemporary readers in a way that is both entertaining and informative. Martha Cinader is a storyteller who draws on the hip semantic style of Lord Buckley with an added feminine twist.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherBookBaby
Release dateMar 1, 2015
ISBN9781631926389
Dreamscape: Real Dreams Really Make a Difference

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    Book preview

    Dreamscape - Martha Cinader

    Buckley.

    Dreamscape

    I am floating down the aisle,

    of the temple of the Holy Spirit of the Universe.

    I am surrounded,

    by the light of the knowledge of my ancestors.

    Pillars of books, all the books, in all the languages, reach for

    the arch of the sky.

    Images wrought more fine than reality turn mystic keys to

    the doors in my eyes.

    Everyone I know is here.

    Everyone who ever

    held me in a trance

    made me want to dance

    fed my starving soul

    turned a black hole

    into a dream.

    Everyone is listening.

    There’s Duke and Monk and Bud, rapturous.

    Sassy Sarah is talking to Chopin,

    Johanne is slapping Art Tatum on the back.

    There’s Charles Dickens stroking his beard and

    Virginia Woolf writing in her notebook.

    Langston Hughes is tying his shoes.

    Louis Latimer

    is floating on a pillow with Einstein.

    Malcolm and Gandhi and Leonardo

    are lapsing philosophically

    by the riverbank.

    Van Gogh is painting Coltrane’s portrait.

    Everyone is listening.

    Listening to sweet music,

    happy pure born from the earth

    and the wind and the water

    living in the air we breathe

    kind of music.

    I climb a marble stairway

    to a balcony

    crowded humming and joyous.

    Thin trails of smoke rise

    from the rafters.

    I look to see.

    My peers are smoking

    a peace pipe

    and I join the sacred ceremony.

    I walk through a crowd

    of beautiful men

    and brave women

    to the very edge of a balcony

    and look down.

    I look so far down into emptiness

    tipping dangerously over the edge

    almost losing my balance

    in contemplation of the whole big scary cares nothing about

    little old me goes on beyond the possibility of my

    imagination to conceive it entirely time gobbling monster

    that grants this little ego in a bag of skin and bones only

    the tiniest moment that can’t even be seen on the scale of all

    time to figure out what I am here to do and do it,

    which reminds me I have to go.

    I turn around and see

    Everyone is looking at me.

    I realize that I am not alone.

    The Earth is my home after all.

    A single note rises sweetly

    above the symphony

    and informs my soul

    of joy

    bitterness

    hope

    purity

    sorrow

    visions

    and dreams.

    I leap into the air

    and float slowly to the ground

    like a leaf.

    I look around.

    Where is everyone?

    What was that sound?

    Lord Buckley

    Every passing moment was a cause for celebration in the life of Lord Buckley. He swung every minute of every day of his life. He found thrills and vicarious thrills and if he couldn’t find them he created them. But the biggest thrill of all, for Lord Buckley, was to tell you a story you thought you knew until you heard him tell it.

    His early experiences in show business, as an MC for dance marathons, gave him the ability to riff continuously, while everyone in earshot became his most willing followers, the most immaculately hip aristocrats of the twentieth century. No subject was beyond his non-stop humor.

    Jesus became the Nazz, Abe Lincoln became Lanky Link and according to Lord Buckley Willy the Shake wrote a speech in Anthony and Cleopatra that begins with Hipsters, Flipsters and Fingerpoppin’ Daddies knock me your lobes...

    All kinds of people dug Lord Buckley and still do today if they can get their hands on his recordings. My good friend and member of the inner court, Oliver Trager, is writing a book about him with quotes from all kinds of famous and infamous people who knew the man and hung on every last word that rolled off his tongue. Oliver told me this story about Lord Buckley.

    "The notorious Chicago gangster Al Capone thought that the funniest man he ever met ought to have his own nightclub to perform in every night. So Al Capone opened a club called Chez Buckley. So along comes Big Al on opening night. He’s got a beautiful woman hanging off of each arm, dripping in jewels and fur, and all his buddy cats fall in behind him, and each of them has their own beautiful trophies hanging on their arms. They all know they’re going to have a good time, and hoping they’re not going to die laughing, because big Al has already warned them that Lord Buckley is the funniest guy in the world.

    "Lord Buckley steps out on the stage and says his little thank yous and gets them all warmed up with a few giggles and smiles from the beautiful ladies, which makes their men proud, knowing that these ladies are with the hippest, slickest cats around.

    "So then Lord Buckley asks each of these sweet flowers for their fur coat, and each of them hands their fur coat over, knowing that Lord Buckley is the funniest guy in the world and he’s going to do something really hip now that’s going to make them all feel even jollier than they’re already feeling.

    "Lord Buckley gets the very last one from a big, buxom, blonde with cherry lips, and she gets up and gives him a little kiss while she hands him her mink, cuz she just couldn’t help herself. He was that kind of guy. Then he gets up on the stage, puts all the

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