I woke up, hit the snooze alarm, and flipped over, thinking, "I know how I'll pin the murder on her now."
I was in a large auditorium: basically I was in the Center's theatre, but the aisles were a little wider. (All of this action takes place in Rows N and O). There were a lot of old high school people there watching some film. All I remember about the film is that Tom Jones sang the opening theme, "War (What is It Good For?)" I spotted Zach and knew I wanted to sit as near to him as possible. There wasn't anywhere free, so I continued down the row. I found Wyant and plopped down next to him. "Is this seat taken?" I asked. "Well . . ." he stammered, knowing that he wanted me to sit there, but that he also had someone else who planned to sit there. So I just got up. He was somewhat perplexed. This time I walked behind Zach instead of the row directly in front of him. I thought about going into the projection booth, but there were a bunch of people standing around. I had to duck quickly to avoid getting in the way of the projected image, and I'm not sure that I was entirely successful. Zach now had a fancy-schmancy telephoto lens that he was playing with instead of watching the movie. I found an empty seat about ten seats away and spent the whole time trying to make eye contact. He never truly noticed me, but I did notice how much he reminded me (favorably) of someone else.
Last night's dream was too influenced by Jean Cocteau (simply because I watched the whole Orphic trilogy last night, although I did fall asleep for a few minutes during Blood of a Poet and Testament of Orpheus).
I was in my old room (upstairs in the childhood home) visiting a famous, aged director. He had posted stills from 1950s sci-fi movies to the window. I sat down on the bed and launched into a whole speech about my childhood in the room--how I watched the tennis courts, how I read by the moonlight, how I pretended that the house with red curtains was the home of a murderer. We then settled in a couch and starting watching a Truffaut (really, it was Cocteau, but that didn't click) film. The only images I remember ran backwards. I saw a ball bounce up a spiral slide. People sometimes walked backwards. I pointed out one part as familiar to me. "This is where I fell asleep last time," I said, "and I think I only did so because it became too frustrating." The subtitles no longer matched the actual dialogue. While I don't know any French, I could tell that the protagonist had said something completely different than the "Hello, I'm Gomez" that appeared in the subtitles.
The number of films I've seen with violence and infidelity has finally gotten to my dreams. I was watching some typical movie with the husband chasing after the maid. However, the movie had run into problems during production and it ended suddenly with the following text on the screen:
In thirty minutes, he was kissing the maid.
In two hours, he was hiding her body.
I also dreamt that a family dropped by the preschool. Carol was there for some reason, and she led the conversation. She was talking with the mother about the child's natural gifts, but stressing that she saw potential most of all. She then looked at Olga, held her finger under her chin, and started crying, "I saw potential and we must develop that." She then completely lost it and sat next to the mom on the bench. I couldn't tell what was wrong, but I thought she might be having problems accepting her retirement and I was worried how this would affect her successor.
I dreamt about the most amazing furniture last night. This furniture was made out of dichromic material (it's two colors at the same time and sort of shimmers) that was grey and red with black stitching over it. The furniture set (a bargain at $138 for everything) included four barstools, a bed, and two benches (backless, with tall arms). I liked it, but it was a little too "Parisian bordello" for me to actually own. They had parts of a set in a light green that was definitely intriguing. I also dreamt about a sleigh bed. The curved headboard that signifies a sleigh board actually bordered on all sides: a person would have to go through the open slats (since it was somewhat mission-style) to get into the bed. The whole thing seemed a little too clammish for me. There was a duvet cover (for $100) that was seafoam green and quite attractive, but it was beaded and seemed too impractical.
I helped some girl named Holland find her artwork from summer camp. Woohoo! Chalk up another exciting dream!
I went to a restaurant with someone and then ditched her when she got up to talk to N*Sync. (She deserved it.) I was in New York with Kathleen and some other people. We were in a parking lot and Kathleen was a few aisles over from me. It was night, but I still screamed out "COLE! We must go visit Cole!" We then went up to our hotel room and got temporarily distracted by the unusual floor plan. (The main door opened directly onto the bathroom, which then led to the seating area and bedroom.)
Yesterday's movie list included One, Two, Three, Stranger Than Paradise, and Charade. Only two of them had murders. Still, I dreamt that I had to shoot this girl's parents in the stomach.
I don't know if they were Erika or Olivia's younger sisters, these girls lived in a very lovely house. Like Dexter, they had secret rooms. The youngest, who was quite ill, had a castle-like banquet room complete with medieval-themed decorations and over thirty feasting knights. The entrance to this was behind her bedside table. I was living in a basement and could hear a cat rubbing against my window, wanting out of the rain, but it was a cat that could somehow kill me if it got inside.
There was some other incredibly complicated dream that I can't remember. At least watching Charade added some plot to my dreams; last night's was a hell of a lot better than moving A-V equipment with Marlon Brando.
Considering last night's three movies: RoGoPaG, The Night of the Hunter, and Last Tango in Paris, I had very plain dreams.
Luckily, the only side effect of the mostly unpleasant Marlon Brando movie was a nice, calm, boring dream: I had to help him and some other guy move stereo equipment. They were moving into apartments near a lot of high school people.
Last night I continued the obsessive movie watching that has thrilled me so these past weeks. Yesterday's movies were the last half-hour of Buñuel's Diary of a Chambermaid (that I had fallen asleep to the night before), Brief Encounter, Les Diaboliques (a French film that I stayed awake through), and most of Pierrot le fou. I finished Pierrot le fou this morning while remembering my dreams.
All three variations were based on Brief Encounter at least in theme. Variation one involved Matt calling me from Japan and asking me to move with him to Okinawa. Variation two was a close friend moving away. I told this friend, "I can't believe you're leaving me." I knew that leaving wasn't the right word, so I hesistated, then added, "Well, not leaving me, but at the very least abandoning me." Variation three was the most interesting one. Our preschool program director, though married with children, fell in love with a roller-skating teenager and the two of them were going to run off together. He was in the oil business, and they were headed to the Persian Gulf, I think. It might have been Okinawa or Iwo Jima, but that doesn't make as much sense. Rebecca and her lover would simply roller-skate around the city park, hand in hand, while I had to look after three very sunburnt preschoolers. Stephanie came up behind me and asked where I find a new director. I said I didn't know, that I was having problems grasping it all, and that it was so unlike her. Then I got that filmic narration voice in my head and starting making grand statements about love and romance. "Oh, if she follows her heart, all the rest will fall into place." The roller-skater reminded me of an old friend, so I was nostalgic already, and watching Rebecca roller-skate continuously in circles was both uplifting and heartwrenching. Tres melodramatique.
I also dreamt that I was an invalid. I had a terrible sinus condition (I even woke up in the middle of this dream and did notice my stuffy nose, although it was much more exaggerated in the dream) and was unable to do much of anything.
Personally, I'm just a little disturbed that it took me this long to have interesting dreams again, especially considering the amount of cinema that I've taken in recently.
Mari and I were on a road trip. She wanted to go to a lake. We ate lunch in a small town at a diner we had patronized previously. We had tried to go to the lake before too, but we didn't get past the diner. On the second visit, we at and the manager came out and chatted. We were only ones there. "I wish you had been here last night. I could have used you." He had gamblers in that had spent $30 on craps, but he wanted Mari to play Lady Luck and "make everyone real comfortable." We got back in the car and passed a big lobster sign. Then we were swimming in the lake -- it could have been Lake 'Tween, another nearby lake -- and we talked about how Karrie had a cousin named Patrick "Patty" Hearst who was a race car driver.
Zach, Jon, and I were in bumper cars. I was in the orange Robert E. Lee from The Dukes of Hazzard. Zach and Jon were in some Star Wars things. Zach told me, "You know, you can join the Force if you want." I was tempted, but I kind of had settled into the Robert E. Lee. Ah yes, the decision between The Dukes of Hazzard and Star Wars: isn't that difficult decision?
I was with a girl (Mari? Erika?) who really wanted to go to a Sisqo concert. We saw Katie Eroh there and that was quite amusing.
Zach and I ate dinner and gabbed about the usual.
I dreamt about a boy named Alex who could will himself aflame, basically Firestarter. He didn't start fires at whatever he looked at; he would sprout fire on his back where angel wings would have attached. He might have had wings. I can't remember.
There was a television show about skywriting that I wanted to make a habit of watching, but it was never on at the same time so I couldn't plan a schedule around it. I wasn't interested enough to think about taping it however.
I was investigating a murder at Anthony's house (was Anthony the murderer? I know not.) which happened to be five stories, but four complete floors were "the basement." I found a blood-stained rag near the stairs between the fourth and final floors: perhaps Kafka had been coughing there recently. Who knows?
Tonight's dreams should be even more interesting. I'm in a movie phase, and I've watched Shock Corridor and Don't Torture a Ducking tonight. I'll either finish up strong by falling asleep during the Norwegian Insomnia (which I'm tempted to watch and fall asleep during for obvious reasons), Brother from Another Planet, or Cocteau's Beauty and the Beast. In other sleeping news, I stayed awake through another French movie, making a grand total of about four French films that I have never even gotten drowsy through: Cleo from 5 to 7, Jules and Jim, L'age d' or, and, after a few tries, The 400 Blows. I'm not counting the Dadaist shorts of Bunuel, Dali, and company: that hardly seems like an accomplishment. I'm not counting Microcosmos either since there's no dialogue. I fell asleep at least three times through Last Year at Marienbad: it's a gorgeous film, but so droll otherwise.
I got a bill for $788.54 from some bogus accounting firm, claiming they had to charge an "Apartment Refrigeration Tax." I couldn't decide whether to call the State Attorney or the media first.
I dreamt about going to many open houses and hating every single one of their decors.
I went to a job interview and I ended up with the interviewer's job because I was better than she was at it. (This is obviously as a result from my interview at Haldane where I was reading the interviewer's script upside-down before he could ask the questions).
My stomach's all icky and I haven't been sleeping well. No big surprise. I haven't had any really remarkable dreams, but here's a few I remember from the past two weeks.
***
I dreamt I opened my insurance statement and was responsible for $2,495.84 worth of charges. Of course, I was quite panicked. Then I read the top of the statement and it was for Sara Hollander. (I have never met a Sara Hollander, but she's obviously quite sick, so be a bit kind to her.)
***
Jake was laying down somewhere, possibly in a wooded area on some mattress thingy. I kissed him on the cheek and he said, "You know I'm gay." I told him that of course I knew, but this was going to break Stephanie's heart.