|Not a white Christmas, certainly...
||[Dec. 8th, 2010|02:42 pm]
Dreaming of a...Sharpie. Yes, that's right, last night's (or early morning's) dream...no, nightmare, I guess. Or dream. What do YOU call a Mobius strip of mundaneity? |
Because I woke myself up finally, because something, some trigger, some tripwire, some tiny sane part of my brain, said "Holy Haddock on a Half-Track, enough of the bleeding Sharpie!"
Because, in my dream, I had been searching for a fine point sharpie for what seemed like HOURS. I kept finding the big fat ones. The really, ball-point like fine ones. The retractable kind. Which I can't handle, since when I extrude the ink dispenser, it is inevitably touching something, and if I'm lucky, it's just the palm of my hand. Apparently I HAD TO HAVE the regular kind. I have no idea why.
And NOT searching in fun, interesting or bizarre places. Oh, no. Like all over my house. Or places like my house. The same level of squalor and disorganization. The only odd thing was that at one point Steven Tyler was involved in helping me search. Which I'm sure was tied into the Kennedy Center Honors and me saying yesterday "well, now, there's a face that if it hadn't become a rock and roll star, never would've gotten laid." Which is mean. And untrue. But still. Not a pretty man. Why the hell he was helping look for a Sharpie, I don't know. But now I actually feel kinder toward him, which surely will make him sleep easier. Yaa, right.
The really sad thing is that a couple of nights ago, the dream was about scrambling to get the trash and recycling out on time. And it seemed to go on, again, for HOURS. I don’t even remember the obstacles, but really, it was just this relentless grabbing, and hauling and having to put it down again for some reason, and the cans getting stuck on tree branches, or tipping over, or...and no one special was helping me. Although I was hollering at a lot of people. And seriously, how this differs from every day of my life, what inner meaning other than “you really need to offload a lot of the stuff in your house” I can’t parse.
Of course, at least a couple of times a month, my “dream” consists of me thinking that I’m awake and drowsing in bed and then eventually getting up and heading into the bathroom...and then the alarm goes off and I realize that I have been dreaming about waking up. Which sucks. Because there’s nothing more disheartening than having the first two minutes of your day resemble a Bill Murray movie. I already struggle to convince myself that I’m not in a rut, my dear self-consciousness, please don’t make it WORSE.
So, you’re thinking, really? Do you ever dream of anything that isn’t utterly banal?
Why yes. Sometimes my dreams do wander into the bizarre. Some nights, it’s evading zombies. Other nights, it’s less evident what’s going on...the night I dreamed that for some reason I was on a school campus. Penn State, although it resembled Penn State not one whit, other than a preponderance of blue and white, especially in the gift shop. I was trying to get some musicians to where they needed to be. Okay, that makes sense – I was involved in special events stuff and often shepherded guest speakers/performers from one place to another. Why Luther Vandross? I have NO idea. But, like Steven Tyler, he was also nice. But who’s going to speak ill of the dead? Oh, right, me. Anyway, I got them headed in the right direction, but I need to do...something...before I could head over and get the concert set up. Naturally, there was a horse loose on campus. And he got into the gift shop. And I was the only person who could get the horse out. Naturally. And the whole time I’m trying to get the horse out of the gift shop, I’m panicking because I am going to be soooo late for the concert and....it was finally when I was trying to get the horse turned around on the spiral staircase that was for some reason was in the middle of the gift shop sales floor...that I woke myself up, because I guess even my subconscious was realizing that this was just going to be ONE DAMN THING AFTER ANOTHER until I woke up. Even the zombie scenario was like that – me ushering people from one place to another, trying to make order out of chaos, chill out the panic, solve the...I think at some point my brain says “Look, my whole bloody DAY is like this, do I have to go through it at night, TOO?”
Seriously. If any of you would like to send me some peaceful, serene dreams – dreams that involve graceful floating, or even just napping on a hammock somewhere until the cabana boy wakes me up to hand me my margarita, that would be awesome.