lastnite: a dream journal

That nasty beheading incident

In my dream last night, I accidentally ended up with Abe Vigoda's dead body in my house and he had been beheaded. I didn't do it. I carried his head over to my scanner and started to scan in a side view of his head; I thought about using it at the end of a web page as a design element. Then I realized that perhaps photographs of beheaded celebrities, particularly when their remains were still within my home, would not be a good thing to post on the web. My mother came over, wearing a 1950s Donna Reed dress, and wanted to go shopping for socks. The phone rang, she answered it, and it was for her: "Who would call you? It's not as if you're on the phone all that often and I'm already here, so it couldn't be me calling." I attempted to explain that I don't particularly like talking on the phone just for kicks since I have to do it all day long. She hopped on the counter and chatted away like Elizabeth Taylor in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, not "sounding just like Natalie Wood, I swear," as she claimed on the phone. I thought about telling Mom my problem--that nasty beheading incident--but I didn't. I was wearing a green skirt and a blazer, white tights that were bunched at the knees, and uncomfortable shoes, but we had to leave that instant for some reason. So we went to lunch in the "Riverside area." I told Mom the story of when Kathleen and I spent the night there and, since both Curtis and Fillmore streets were likely to flood, we had to eat at this little cafe. All of the items on the menu were standard: hamburger, roast beef, etc.

I was spending the night in a house in Fancy Acres, as Jake would say. I was tempted to go around and take pictures of everyone as they slept.