lastnite: a dream journal

Catching up on the celeb dreams

I'm debating a redesign of my site, but I know for sure that I will soon have a handy-dandy Celebrity Index. Let's face it, there are probably about two people that read this (if that many) that actually know anyone I mention. I'm too lazy and it's just too invasive to make a list of all those "common people" like myself. But if I, someone you in all likelihood have never even met, announce loudly at a fancy soiree, "I had the most horrifying dream about Lawrence Welk," then you probably can at least be amused at my esoteric reference if nothing else.

So, this task involved going back through past entries--over 270 of them. I've done that, but in the course of doing so, I've noticed that I failed to put very crucial celebrity dreams in here.

How could I have forgotten to tell you about the one where my neighbor and I were double-dating Darryl Hall and John Oates (I with Oates, the dark-haired one; she with Hall). Of course, all I can remember is being not pleased with the whole situation (I didn't want to date either of them) and I distracted myself from Oates' amorous overtures by digging in the glove compartment. This dream would have taken place in spring 1996 or so, I'm guessing.

And how could I possibly have neglected to write about the marriage of Judith Light (Angela from Who's the Boss) and Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails? That was a particularly disturbing dream.

By going back through the entries, including the ones from the 1990s, I had people I haven't seen in years on my mind last night, I suppose. I dreamt that I started my new job. There was a large welcoming banquet (not all for me, mind you, as a whole lot of other people were starting work that day too). I found Chris J and Michael W, and I ran to Chris and tugged on his cream-colored cable-knit sweater (it was cotton, not wool, that cheap-ass bastard). "I thought about you all the way through Legally Blonde," I lied, "and about how you never thought I'd ever amount to anything." Michael, at this point, was quite scared and did not exactly want to be around the full display of the love-hate relationship we had. Chris, having shunned becoming a lawyer like his father, now carted around acetyline tanks. "Oh, how nice for you. I thought about dropping out of school to become a trucker, but I didn't." I put on my best better-than-thou routine, as usual, since Chris actually believes such nonsense. We then were to climb up a series of stairs: they stretched across an entire twelve-foot or larger expanse. They had slender rails, and it looked straight out of some Cocteau or film noir movie . . . perhaps The Third Man. At this point the dream turned into black and white. I can't remember anything else, but it was damp, dark, and musty.