Also, I am posting a lot lately. I should fix that. =P
Maybe the impending Friday is why I've been having dreams again lately. I mean, I've always had bizarre ones, but this . . . .
Okay, so Monday morning my mother woke me up at 6:30 to make sure I got breakfast, since she forgot to send me money to get food and didn't know I'd got myself a quick patch-cereal deal. So I tell her very politely that it's 6:30 and the cafeteria doesn't open for another hour, and that I have food, and she says "Oh." So I went back to sleep.
Then I had my first ever commercial dream.
Right, so I see this couple walking down the sidewalk in a city, talking about their new car and how much better it was than their old one. One of them mentions the seats, and the other says "No, no they're really not [better]." And the first one (the guy) slumped a little and said "Yeah, I know.... I really miss the old seats."
And then there were two front car seats in the park across the street. And the couple rushed through traffic and fawned over them like a couple of lost dogs.
. . .
THEN THIS MORNING
First dream was a crack baby. Something about a Gone With The Wind or Wuthering Heights real life something with Tom Cruise, morphing quickly into a family reunion with Tom Cruise, becoming a very long road trip . . . behind Tom Cruise.
GET OUT OF MY HEAD, TOM CRUISE
. . .
AND THEN
I dreamed that tubists were plotting to destroy the Earth.
I kid you not.
It was a kind of Groundhog Day temporal affair, because I kept restarting the whole chain of events with more information so I could (I guess) stop them from extinguishing all life. Most of it was very convoluted, but I do remember that the Grand Scheme had something to do with taking every silver (Pure Silver, mind) tuba and sousaphone ever made and fusing them into one gargantuan, obscene Tuba, a single note from which could literally split the world in half.
I also remember being very excited at one point because I'd slipped in an old brass baritone to the mix, and that was somehow supposed to throw off the allow or something. And then I was "captured"—one of the most genial, passive captures I've ever gone through in dream-land—and told it didn't matter because they had enough already, and they'd just thrown it out. I was in the process of grilling one of them—who was surprisingly obliging—while being taken to some airport or other, when I woke up.
. . .
The scary part is, I'm not on drugs.
