Dancing with the King

I had a very nice dream just now, which is noteworthy because most of the dreams I remember are uniformly horrifying (zombies, poo, etc.). I dreamt that a bunch of people from our time went back to the fifties and threw a big party, and we rounded up jukeboxes and records and Elvis Presley for entertainment. Elvis was still unknown, so we got him to sing for us...and I got to dance with him! He was singing a mix between Blue Suede Shoes and Chuck Berry's Little Queenie. And the man could DANCE! Even while playing guitar.

It must have been because I saw bits of Speedway, starring Elvis, last night on tv. I didn't stick around to watch the whole movie because race cars are not my thing; but I guess I caught enough to be reminded of how dreamy Elvis must have been in his time.

It just goes to show how relative everything is...how in the absence of an ideal we settle for something far inferior and call that the ideal. If Elvis or Marlon Brando were still alive and young, all the Brad Pitts and Justin Timberlakes of the world would hardly have a prayer.