tea berry-blue

This is a dream I had two nights ago!

( mouse people and lizard people )

So, I had this dream last night.

It was about a 30-ish film actor who had sort of JUST entered the ranks of household name movie star.

He had a little problem.

Every time he wrapped a film where he played the lead, he somehow spawned a doppelgänger. Each doppelgänger acted like the character he’d played in the film. So, one of the doppelgängers was a washed up pro ball player, one of them was a pirate, one of them was this shy housepainter, etc etc. He had like six or seven of them. But, you know, he’s a successful movie star making millions per picture, so he just kind of pays to support them, and they all live in his house with him.

This makes his life kind of complicated. He doesn’t want anyone to find out about the doppelgängers, so they just kind of hang out in his huge house in California, watching movies and playing video games and swimming in his pool and stuff. Not all of them get along.

This also has kind of put a damper on his ability to date, like, ever.

Then he’s shooting a movie in this old farmhouse, and the niece of the woman who owns it is staying there. He’s kind of entirely smitten with her, but doesn’t make a great impression.

He has to leave to go film in Singapore, but he really likes this girl. So, what does he do? HE LEAVES THE DOPPELGÄNGERS BEHIND AS THEY OFFER TO COURT HER FOR HIM.

You can totally see how this works out.

WHOOPS.

( MORE: You know how sometimes over the course of a day, bits of dreams come back to you? )

I'm bad at listening to music.

( Music in my head )

Man, so I keep completely failing at posting lately. I feel bad about it, too, because I started Nommable! and then I've been kind of flaking on posting there. Which is bad, I know. I keep taking pictures and stuff with the full intention and desire to post them, but then I get kind of...lazy. Or not so much lazy, but busy. And I just don't want to post stuff when I do have free time.

I had a dream last night that was very detailed and vivid and real but also about me and about real life and that was a bit weird. I dreamed that I was coming home from Whiskey Monday, which is what I had been doing, and I know that in the dream, I was carrying the same purse and had the same wallet I carry in real life, although the scene took place in the 23rd Street subway station, as opposed to the City Hall subway station where I would have been getting on the train. And yes, I recognized the subway station and it was pretty accurate for a dream.

Anyway, I was in the station but hadn't quite gone through the turnstile yet. I had my wallet out, and was getting out my Metrocard. I had about 50 dollars in my wallet: one twenty, two tens, one five, and a bunch of singles.

Another man came down into the station, and he was very poorly dressed and dirty. He did have a coat and a hat. Anyway, he started ranting crazily about Occupy Wall Street and how he is one of the 99%. He announced that he was homeless and then he pulled a gun and pointed it at me. He said something about how wouldn't I like to donate to a good cause instead of putting my money in a bank that was trying to break the backs of ordinary Americans. Then he starts moving the gun between me and the guy who is down there, who was a middle-aged man in a very expensive-looking houndstooth suit with a nice coat and leather gloves.

I had my wallet out already, and I did what I had always been taught to do (not that I have ever been hugged at gunpoint in real life), and I pulled out most-- but not all-- of the money in the wallet. I left the $20 in while I gave him everything else. I remember thinking to myself that it was too bad I paid for my food at Whiskey Monday on my credit card, and then remembering with some relief that I had paid with cash. (In real life, in the real world, I had paid for my beers last night with cash).

But at this point, the train pulls up, and a few (not a lot, but four or five) people get off the train, and come through the turnstile, as people do, and now dude is holding everyone hostage and demanding that they empty their wallets.

Meanwhile, I try to take the $20 out of my wallet without him seeing, because he's looking at some of the other people there, but instead, I drop it on the floor, and he turns and points the gun back at me again, pointing it at me while he demands that I hand over the $20, which I do. Then he snatches me and takes me hostage, pointing the gun at me while he collects the money from the other people.

But then he gets to this young, skinny hipster-looking guy, and the hipster guy reaches into his mail bag and instead of pulling out money, he pulls out this incredibly beautiful, period-looking gun with a mother of pearl handle, and points it at the mugger's head, telling him to let me go.

The mugger let me go, and when he did, I, perhaps without the best judgment in mind, knock the gun out of his hand. It goes off, hitting the ceiling, and sends crumbly plaster raining down, while I run for the stairs.

But while everyone is distracted by the gunshot, and the gun skitters to the floor, the mugger pulls out a HUGE FUCKING KNIFE. Like, more the kind of knife you expect to see used in ancient sacrificial rituals than on a mugger in New York City, and he goes at the hipster dude with the knife, which is when it becomes obvious that the hipster guy's gun is either not loaded or just a prop.

But by this time, there's pretty much a group of people, who, though unarmed, well outnumber the mugger, so between the six or seven people there, we overwhelm him, and then we have to go to the police station to fill out police reports.

At the police station, I end up sitting next to hipster dude, who, it turns out, is a photojournalist and takes photos for The Daily News. So we chat a bit about journalism while we're sitting waiting for police officers to take our statements and he talks something about the business side of things and an investment structure that he thinks will be helpful for the declining newspaper industry, which I didn't quite follow, and then I woke up.

Weird, huh?

Man, so I keep completely failing at posting lately. I feel bad about it, too, because I started Nommable! and then I've been kind of flaking on posting there. Which is bad, I know. I keep taking pictures and stuff with the full intention and desire to post them, but then I get kind of...lazy. Or not so much lazy, but busy. And I just don't want to post stuff when I do have free time.

I had a dream last night that was very detailed and vivid and real but also about me and about real life and that was a bit weird. I dreamed that I was coming home from Whiskey Monday, which is what I had been doing, and I know that in the dream, I was carrying the same purse and had the same wallet I carry in real life, although the scene took place in the 23rd Street subway station, as opposed to the City Hall subway station where I would have been getting on the train. And yes, I recognized the subway station and it was pretty accurate for a dream.

Anyway, I was in the station but hadn't quite gone through the turnstile yet. I had my wallet out, and was getting out my Metrocard. I had about 50 dollars in my wallet: one twenty, two tens, one five, and a bunch of singles.

Another man came down into the station, and he was very poorly dressed and dirty. He did have a coat and a hat. Anyway, he started ranting crazily about Occupy Wall Street and how he is one of the 99%. He announced that he was homeless and then he pulled a gun and pointed it at me. He said something about how wouldn't I like to donate to a good cause instead of putting my money in a bank that was trying to break the backs of ordinary Americans. Then he starts moving the gun between me and the guy who is down there, who was a middle-aged man in a very expensive-looking houndstooth suit with a nice coat and leather gloves.

I had my wallet out already, and I did what I had always been taught to do (not that I have ever been hugged at gunpoint in real life), and I pulled out most-- but not all-- of the money in the wallet. I left the $20 in while I gave him everything else. I remember thinking to myself that it was too bad I paid for my food at Whiskey Monday on my credit card, and then remembering with some relief that I had paid with cash. (In real life, in the real world, I had paid for my beers last night with cash).

But at this point, the train pulls up, and a few (not a lot, but four or five) people get off the train, and come through the turnstile, as people do, and now dude is holding everyone hostage and demanding that they empty their wallets.

Meanwhile, I try to take the $20 out of my wallet without him seeing, because he's looking at some of the other people there, but instead, I drop it on the floor, and he turns and points the gun back at me again, pointing it at me while he demands that I hand over the $20, which I do. Then he snatches me and takes me hostage, pointing the gun at me while he collects the money from the other people.

But then he gets to this young, skinny hipster-looking guy, and the hipster guy reaches into his mail bag and instead of pulling out money, he pulls out this incredibly beautiful, period-looking gun with a mother of pearl handle, and points it at the mugger's head, telling him to let me go.

The mugger let me go, and when he did, I, perhaps without the best judgment in mind, knock the gun out of his hand. It goes off, hitting the ceiling, and sends crumbly plaster raining down, while I run for the stairs.

But while everyone is distracted by the gunshot, and the gun skitters to the floor, the mugger pulls out a HUGE FUCKING KNIFE. Like, more the kind of knife you expect to see used in ancient sacrificial rituals than on a mugger in New York City, and he goes at the hipster dude with the knife, which is when it becomes obvious that the hipster guy's gun is either not loaded or just a prop.

But by this time, there's pretty much a group of people, who, though unarmed, well outnumber the mugger, so between the six or seven people there, we overwhelm him, and then we have to go to the police station to fill out police reports.

At the police station, I end up sitting next to hipster dude, who, it turns out, is a photojournalist and takes photos for The Daily News. So we chat a bit about journalism while we're sitting waiting for police officers to take our statements and he talks something about the business side of things and an investment structure that he thinks will be helpful for the declining newspaper industry, which I didn't quite follow, and then I woke up.

Weird, huh?

I woke up very suddenly in the middle of the night, startled awake by a smell that was caustic but unidentifiable.

I lay in bed, sniffing...the smell had dissipated as I had reached consciousness. I went out into the hall, smelled the hall...I thought, maybe, I could smell a tiny bit of the scent that had been so strong and noxious when I slept, but it didn't seem nearly as bad. I went into the kitchen, to check the gas, and I smelled nothing.

Certain that the smell was no longer there, if it had ever been, I went back to bed and went to sleep.

I was in the midst of a dream, and I'm not sure what kind of dream, when I started to smell the warm and delicious scent of vanilla and pipe tobacco, burning and delightful. For some reason, this scent caused me to wrest myself from sleep as urgently as the caustic and chemical scent I had smelled before did.

I woke. There was no smell. Not even a whiff-- how could there be? Again, I got up, looked around my apartment. No smell. Not the tobacco, not the poisonous scent of before.

I looked at the clock: it was 7:02. My alarm is supposed to go off at 7 on the button. I frowned-- the alarm is set, isn't it? And then checked. I had set the alarm, but I had set the second alarm, the one I use for when I have to wake up at a different time, say, on the weekends if I have a morning engagement, or if I take a nap.

The tobacco scent had woken me up at just the time my alarm normally would. I have this vision in my head now of a pipe-smoking fellow not unlike the sandman, who does the opposite job: instead of wafting into our rooms to put us to sleep, he hurries in on his way to work to make sure we aren't late, trailing the scent of his morning smoke behind him.

So, I wanted to write down some stuff about the dream I had the night before last.

( I have long and involved dreams )

In waking news, yesterday was AWESOME. I went over to Rina's house to color a cartoon for her, and she paid me in dinner. So usually when I go over, I pack up my knapsack with liquor and other delectable things (like sometimes sorbets or whatnot) and bring them over and mix drinks. But I didn't because we were going to dinner and figured Rina would want to get the coloring done and just get out the door, and then I got there, and Rina asks if I want a drink. My only regret is that I didn't bring over some of the pickled cherries and my bottle of Root. But Brendan has these bottles of Royal Rose syrups, which are phenom, and some wormwood bitters I hadn't tried, so I played around with those, and then went up and did some coloring, and then we walked a few blocks to this new restaurant in our neighborhood called SALT & FAT. Yes, that is the name.

This place was seriously the best meal I have had in my neighborhood. The only problem is they don't have a bar, although they have a great spot for one should they wish to remedy this (they should). First off, they give you pork fat cooked popcorn as soon as you walk in, and, um. Unlimited little bags of hot pork fat popcorn. Rina and I shared a bunch of small plates; we had scallops and meatballs and little porkbelly BLT Beijing kao ya style buns, and omg oxtail. Seriously good oxtail with seriously good roasted mushrooms. And a couple of beers, and we chatted a while about writing and stuff and oh my god that oxtail. So we are definitely going to be going back there. If they had a bar, I don't know if the rest of you would hear from me ever again. I need to go back with my camera and do a proper review.

Oh, also: I wrote this excellent post about ice cream and dinosaurs night before last but a couple people said it didn't show up on their flist. So I'm posting a link: ice cream and dinosaurs. It also has my friend Steve's excellent old timey folksy band playing Folsom Prison Blues.

So, I wanted to write down some stuff about the dream I had the night before last.

( I have long and involved dreams )

In waking news, yesterday was AWESOME. I went over to Rina's house to color a cartoon for her, and she paid me in dinner. So usually when I go over, I pack up my knapsack with liquor and other delectable things (like sometimes sorbets or whatnot) and bring them over and mix drinks. But I didn't because we were going to dinner and figured Rina would want to get the coloring done and just get out the door, and then I got there, and Rina asks if I want a drink. My only regret is that I didn't bring over some of the pickled cherries and my bottle of Root. But Brendan has these bottles of Royal Rose syrups, which are phenom, and some wormwood bitters I hadn't tried, so I played around with those, and then went up and did some coloring, and then we walked a few blocks to this new restaurant in our neighborhood called SALT & FAT. Yes, that is the name.

This place was seriously the best meal I have had in my neighborhood. The only problem is they don't have a bar, although they have a great spot for one should they wish to remedy this (they should). First off, they give you pork fat cooked popcorn as soon as you walk in, and, um. Unlimited little bags of hot pork fat popcorn. Rina and I shared a bunch of small plates; we had scallops and meatballs and little porkbelly BLT Beijing kao ya style buns, and omg oxtail. Seriously good oxtail with seriously good roasted mushrooms. And a couple of beers, and we chatted a while about writing and stuff and oh my god that oxtail. So we are definitely going to be going back there. If they had a bar, I don't know if the rest of you would hear from me ever again. I need to go back with my camera and do a proper review.

Oh, also: I wrote this excellent post about ice cream and dinosaurs night before last but a couple people said it didn't show up on their flist. So I'm posting a link: ice cream and dinosaurs. It also has my friend Steve's excellent old timey folksy band playing Folsom Prison Blues.

So, thalialunacy did a little survey over in her journal, and one thing she did was ask us to tell her a joke.

I wrote out the joke that has had the most lasting effect on my life. As you will see, it is extremely profound. The punchline to this joke is my father's favorite catchphrase which he repeats to me whenever I am making merciless fun of him.

( The greatest joke ever )

Also, I had this dream last night. I vaguely remember it being much more detailed at the time, but most of it faded.

What I do remember is that it was in a late Medieval setting, and there was a very young Pope. He had been selected by some cardinals who were in the pockets of the Holy Roman Emperor, and they were trying to use him to do something, although I don't remember what it was. They thought that him being young and inexperienced would mean he'd basically be a puppet Pope. But then he got anointed and found out what was going on in terms of whatever sneaky back-room dealings were happening, and he staged a rebellion against the Holy Roman Empire. There was this part in the dream where he appeared to give a mass out in a piazza for a festival and someone threw a grenade at him. He caught it, held it up, and counted, out loud, to fourteen, with the grenade still in his hand. And then he used his papal scepter as a sling and threw the grenade up over the city wall, and looked out into the crowd, and was like, "And how are YOU doing, Imperatore?" That's most of what I remember! Plus, there were the medieval equivalent of Papal papparazzi because he was like a rock star.

Okay, doctor appointment! More later!

I've been having more and more vivid dreams the past few days, and all ones that are at least in concept fairly realistic, no weird fantasist moments, and all about me and real people I know. Which is a little weird for me. But I'm rolling with it.

I had two dreams in a row about the same person, one where I was on an airplane and realized I hadn't said goodbye to them. This is one of those cases of "not a close enough friend for me to post about them in my LJ without asking permission" things, especially in the semi-creepy context of "hey, I dreamed about you!" I have a lot of anxiety dreams about airplanes, especially when I'm about to travel. There's lots of crazy, lurid 9/11 shit in them usually-- I didn't have an LJ during 9/11, but I think some of the later dreams were recorded. Anyway! That was the first one. Sunday night? Then Monday night, I had a dream that I met up with the same person at a cafe...to apologize to them for not seeing them the last time I was in town. It was a cafe with those sort of old-fashioned ice cream parlor-looking chairs and a black and white tile floor. I remember them having really good salads. It was pretty mundane stuff.

Then, last night, I had this dream: It started at work. I was upset about something and in a meeting with a lot of people who don't actually work here, and I said a lot of stupid things because I was upset and sort of made an idiot of myself. And then one of my friends from high school showed up in the foyer of our floor, and I let him in and started chatting with him. And while we were chatting, the person this post was about showed up. Now, since it's not something I've mentioned really, I've completely stopped talking to him because our interactions in person just got to a point where I decided I had to get out because they were too emotionally taxing for me. I think the last time I saw him was two Christmases ago, and I didn't even hear from him again for over a year after that. So it's not like it's been particularly hard to avoid communication. I saw him through the glass that separates the workspace of our office from the foyer, and it was one of those, oh, shit, I know I'm going to have to talk to you eventually moments, but my high school friend dragged me away.

Now, there's this thing I have to say about this particular friend. We were really only friends peripherally: he was one of my close friends' other best friends, and so we ended up participating in activities together; I somehow ended up at the breakfast table the morning after he met the girl who would be his girlfriend for the next three years, we hung out a couple times when our mutual friend bowed out of something. But I didn't ever really know him well. But he shows up in my dreams now and then and it's always in this weird capacity that I would almost liken to a spirit guide. Like, once I had a dream that I died and went to Hell, and it was very Inferno-esque, with the whole tour of hell and stuff, and he was my Virgil.

It's odd because it's a very unlikely role for him to play in terms of my personal opinions of him. I mean, of course I liked and respected him, but I didn't idolize him or look up to him really. He was very physically attracted (my mother always said he was the best-looking boy in my school by a long shot) but I wasn't personally very attracted to him. So I don't know why my brain likes to cast him this way.

The office I work in has a circular construction around the elevator bank/foyer, and this friend took me on a walk around the full circumference of my floor. I don't remember what we talked about, but I do remember the last thing he said. "It's good to see you," he said. "And I'm happy to see you so happily in love. Who is it with?"

My answer was "Actually, it's two people."

And to leave you, and me on a cliffhanger, that's all on the dream front. I am feeling a little better today although I am much snottier than I was the past two days. I hope that is just everything draining out. I find myself counting the hours impatiently till I can take another puff of my inhaler (I have about fifteen minutes right now) because it's the only way I feel completely human. I feel like I'm getting snot all over everything.

I'm going out with gildedage later; I think we are going to see the Thor movie! Which is not as exciting as my dreams but is directed by Kenneth Branagh!