Thursday, April 19, 2007
in dreams there be...
Man, oh man! I am having some wild dreams these days -- er, nights.
Last week I'm dreaming, starting a new job. I'm introduced to a young woman in the office, who could be Scarlett Johannson, and who, alas, takes an instant dislike to me. It happens. They either love me or hate me. Not many are indifferent. I've accepted that a long time ago. So I keep my distance. Odd thing though -- when you dream, desire or intent seem ancillary, even though Freud would probably say they're all about wish-fulfillment. But here I felt like an automaton and despite my best efforts, Scarlett, or whatever her name is, keeps appearing in some doorway -- always a doorway! -- in different places, scowling at me for apparent misdeeds perpetrated by me via ommission or co-.
And then one day I'm at the window in some ocean front cottage, very similar to the one I lived in for a couple of years in Maine back in the 70s, looking out at the surf. And then there's Scarlett. This time she sidles up beside me on the back of the chaise and looks out the window too. She smiles but says nothing and doesn't look at me. My utter bewilderment manifests itself with my turning and plopping down on the cushions. Immediately she does the same, but then takes the extra step of writhing her lovely bottom into me, and we spoon. Very touching. Verrrrry arousing.
They hate me. They love me. It's a very fine line.
Okay, that was Dream 1. Here's Dream 2:
I'm outside a large triple-decker colonial home, akin to a classic New England multi-unit and Terra from Gone With The Wind. Pillars out front declare its elegance and stateliness. The land is immediately buttressed with thick woods all around the small, circular, bit of land. I find myself beginning a steeple-chase: around the house, into the woods, down to a stream, around rocks, back up the hill, into the house. Crazy shit!
I'm racing my older brother. My younger brother is the judge. Again, crazy shit!
Well I'm miles ahead of older bro, or whatever the unit-of-measure is in Dreamworld. The end of the race comes when the front-runner races up the winding staircase, into the bathroom, and unscrews the lightbulb over the sink. Or so I had thought.
I hoist the bulb aloft and declare victory to nobody. I'm alone. Then I hear tromping at the bottom of the staircase. Ah, the also-ran, but dear, older brother.
No!! It's Jennifer Aniston. What the... ?
Did I mention I was dreaming?
Jennifer Aniston stops at the top of the staircase and lifts a shroud draped over the banister post; a shroud that wasn't there when I went by. She unveils a gold cup and hoists it aloft and yells "I Win!"
My reaction is alarm. And, channelling Cartman, I rage: No! No! I won! I won, goddamit!
Li'l Brother comes tromping up the steps to rule. He declares: "You did not abide by the rules. Jennifer wins!"
The frustration wakes me up. I'd since forgotten what the hell happened to Older Bro.
Oh, one more Dream. This arrived this morning:
George Bush is giving a press conference when suddenly some dark suit comes in and declares a snap election. It's done electronically and is tabulated right then and there via internet and television. Bush Loses!! He is removed from the podium. Dick Cheney is dragged past the cameras snarling. There is a mad rush among the press in the background, and then the suit steps up to declare the new president: John Kerry.
Oh hell, you rightists, it could've been anyone, but there he was, Kerry! Big Kerry grin!
Now I slip back into the ethereal darkness of dreaming, where I see nothing but still remember, and I could've come up with anything to analyze what just happened. And yet my first thought was: "Scooter Libby is sooo fucked!"
I actually believed it happened and thrilled at the prospect, for a split second anyway... just before my alarm went off.