Last night I dreamt that I was in the pokey AGAIN!!! It seems that through NO fault of my own I was involved in a sex scandal AGAIN. See, I was invited to go to this party that my friend said she thought I would find fun and funny. She was going with HER friend who had invited her with the same line and had added casually "...oh, and feel free to bring a guest." It turned out that SHE had been invited by a friend of hers with that exact same speech. So the night of the thing my friend calls and says she's sick. Not only that but that the friend that invited her--she's sick TOO. So this gal that invited the gal that invited my friend that invited me calls me and says in this deep voice edged with a tiny bit of danger "So...(long pause, more danger) YOU still wanna go?" And I'm nervous and DON'T want to go so I blurt out, "Hell YES, I still want to go!" So she picks me up in a Yugo and we head for this warehouse and I'm trying to think of sparkling conversation starters but I can't help peeking under her coat with my eyes every once in a while because I think I can see, but I'm not sure, but I think I can see something that looks like painted on vinyl. Liquid vinyl. And I'm thinking, "Is she wearing painted on LIQUID vinyl?!?! No. Could she be? OMG...OMG...I...she IS! It's got to be! I'm so not dressed right for this..." And I kinda peep down at my own outfit which is a pencil skirt and a black t-shirt and Keds. And I think despairingly, "I'm f*cking wearing KEDS?!?!?!" We finally arrive and the door person, who is wearing a leather outfit that looks a bit like those pajamas with the feet in them but is slightly more than skin tight and of paper-thin leather with little cutouts that you don't want to know where and with a mask over her face and these long Thailand dancer nail things on and I'm trying not to look at the nails or the cutouts or ANYTHING. I'm trying to act super cool and I'm losing it. And the door person murmurs, "Ooooohhhh Keds! You're going to want to head to the far, far back of the warehouse." and she laughs throatily. I have always wanted to laugh throatily but mine is more of a guttural aboriginal word kind of laugh. And now, NOW, it was more of a high pitched anxiety ridden giggle of massively embarrassing proportions. And the gal I came with, she says, "Isn't she tasty?!?!?" Meaning ME. Which I kinda liked that. I mean who doesn't like being referred to as "tasty"? But then I thought about where I was and about what that could really MEAN and I was between another giggle of hysteria and a full out scream of panic. I had to do quite a bit of self-talk. "Reeeeelaaaxxxx!" I cautioned. "Reeeellllaaaaaxxxxxxxx....it's JUST a party. It's JUST a new experience. It's not a big deal. It's a lark...It's a...." and my self-talk froze because in front of me was this drop dead gorgeous creature of, oh almost but not quite, 5' 10" and she was holding a trophy in her hand. And she wasn't wearing much but what she was wearing appeared to be silk and leather which my mind really couldn't quite ALLOW me to wrap around and then I thought, "Wrap around..." and I was lost. LOST! Lost to this world of--I didn't even know what but now I was thinking it might be a really, really good idea. REALLY GOOD. For me to find out. This gorgeous one. She hands the trophy to the door person and purrs, "Can you put this with my coat, please? I just won the contest for...oh...you know...JUST one of the contests..." she said this so casually and in my mind I'm screaming "WHAT?!?!? WHAT?!?!? What did you win FOR?!?!?" And I'm completely smitten by her face and her body and her leather and silk wispy pieces and she turns to me and smiles and I start to fall over. Luckily my Keds had traction and I kind of acted like there was a strong wind that had blown me a bit around and I straightened up and said in a cracked boy-coming-of-age voice, "I'm...uh...I'm...that is...I'M HEADING...to the uh...to the BACK of the...to the uh...(and here I look down at my feet and kind of point) heading to the KEDS portion of the warehouse." and I just reach out and take her arm and say, with just a smidgen more authority, "And...AND...and yoooouuuuu...are...uh...you...YOU (and here I try to keep from fainting and I clutch her arm a little tighter)...Youyou are coming with ME!" And to my amazement I start to stroll...yes, I'm together enough to STROLL towards the back of the warehouse and this creature, this apparition actually strolls with me and smiles at me and lets me actually TOUCH her arm. Now would have been the time to chat casually or maybe offer up some really great innuendo or even flirt openly but no. NO. NO. NO. I was pretty much back to being in a total state of P-A-N-I-C. I was sure this gal, this glorious gal was going to shirk me off her arm and laugh and say something like, "Keds! Ha!" and stroll away to the feather or leather or pleather or whips or whipped cream sections of the warehouse...but she didn't. She even kind of moved closer to me. I felt a heart attack preparing itself in my chest. I really just wanted to leave there and get this gal her coat and head to, I don't know, maybe Denny's. I wanted to find out if she liked decaf or regular coffee, I wanted to know if she preferred pancakes or waffles. I wanted to put some clothes on her so that I could take some clothes off her. I wanted to hear her snore...I wanted her to meet my Mom. I wanted to play Yahtzee with her. I wanted to... We reached the KEDS section of the warehouse. She looked down at me and smiled. I looked up at her and blushed.
"I don't know what to do now." I confessed.
"You don't?!?"
"I've never been to a Ked's party." I admitted.
She laughed..."Oh, you'll be fine."
I started, "But..."
"I'll go with you." she promised.
So I took a deep breath and was ready to part the curtains and find out what really happened in the Keds section when the doors burst open and we were raided. Someone mistakenly identified me as one of the organizers and with my management background from my old job in corporate America the police thought it made sense. So there I was. In the pokey. Smiling, smiling, smiling down at my keds.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Last night's dream 12/16/09
Last night I dreamt I was at a cat show and the "Best of Show" was a calico Cornish Rex much like Rosebud. Rosebud ran off with this cat! Then a man came over and said, "I wrote a book." The book was the story of Rosebud and her TWO CHILDREN! I was stunned. I ran after her yelling, "You have KIDS?!?!?" She and this "B of S" Rex kept dodging me, running under tables, leaping over cats in crates. The organizers came running yelling at me, "Get your cat UNDER CONTROL!" they demanded. I smirked at them, shook my head, and said, "Tsk. You expect me, a mere mortal to get Rosebud under control?" They looked at me and then looked at Rosebud who was perched on top of one of the judges heads and then back at me and said, "Tsk." and walked away. The judge (with Rosebud on his head) was stammering and just slightly shaking. "She's...uh...sinking her claws in my head...a little...she's..." and then he trailed off because he saw the look on my face because I saw the look on Rosebud's face. She was getting ready to leave the guy's head. This was not a good thing for the guy even though he might think it would be. Because. Because it meant that Rosebud would need to "sink in" quite a bit to get the correct leverage to make her big leap to her next destination. He didn't yet know what he was in for. I rushed over but the man made a fatal mistake. He said, "Get this...this...animal off my head..." and then kinda sarcastically, "...please." It was the way he said "animal". I know my child is an animal. I realize she's a cat. I'm not naive. But the way he said it. You just don't diss my kids. So my frantic rush turned into a bit of a meandering stroll where I even stopped to take a quick look at a Sphynx in a crate who winked at me knowingly. So by the time I reached the judge Rosebud was sinking down, down, down into his little scalp and projecting herself into the air like the beautiful lean mean adorable machine that she is. This should be the end of the dream with maybe a little humorous anecdote at the end but no. The organizers had us held until the police can be called in. I snuck out my cell phone and made a quick call. By the time the police arrived Jesus was pulling up, in a limo this time, and in a suit. "Attorney for Rosebud and Elliott" he said and waved a hand and everyone turned into gingerbread houses. "Jesus!" I laughed. He grabbed Rosebud and the two touched noses. He said, "How `bout we go get us some cream and chicken and liver?" Rosebud purred. We got into the limo. Liberace was driving and the steering wheel was a keyboard (appropriately). He smiled at me in the rear view and started off. "Jesus..." I began but he interrupted, "Already on it Big E." and he waved his hand and no one was a gingerbread house anymore. Rosebud crawled on top of Liberace's head and Liberace laughed and laughed. Even when the claws sunk in.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Last night's dream 12/15/09
Last night I dreamt that my girlfriend and I were listening to a Meg Christian record and singing "Ode to a Gym Teacher" at the top of our lungs. We were laughing and falling into each others arms and spilling wine on the carpet and I didn't even care. I let that wine just puddle there. We laughed so hard a little wine came out my nose and we laughed even harder at that! That led to wine enema jokes for some reason and now we were rolling around on the floor and laughing so very hard that you couldn't even hear Meg anymore. Finally the laughter subsided and we were subdued. I looked out the window and said, "Oh...look at that...you don't see that everyday do you?" And my girlfriend looked out the window too. There was a pig with a big bee on it's back going down the street. The Bee had a little delicate whip in her hand and the pig had on a tutu. Then my girlfriend said "wine enema." and the laughter erupted all over again.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Last night's dream 12/14/09
Last night I dreamt that a Japanese man wanted to have lunch with me but the food was late and then he was in a meeting and then there was a dog that I had to entertain for some reason with a little yellow ball. I kept approaching the wrong Japanese man and asking if it was time yet or telling him that I was the one who wasn't quite ready and they were very gracious and would relay my message to the right Japanese man but then at the end of the dream it turned out that ALL the Japanese men wanted to have lunch with me. And not just one time. There was a poster posted that stated that there would be a Japanese Man Lunch with Elliott Night every Wednesday. And the kicker...ONLY Japanese food was to be served and it had to be home made. I ran home and ransacked the cupboards looking for my rice cooker. I couldn't find it. But when I opened the freezer package after package of shishamo fell out. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and took a swig of sake.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Last night's dream 12/11/09
Last night I dreamt I was in Venice and was on one of the many canals. I was eating marshmellows out of a bag. Tons of pigeons were crowding around me wanting one of those tasty white treats. I kept telling them, "These babies are for me, and only me! Go on now, go with your bad selves! Back to the plaza!" And to my amazement they all flew off in a huge white cloud of wings and beady black eyes. "Hmmm!" I thought with a little toss of my head, thinking I was super cool. Then I saw him sitting in the boat with me with his arm still held in the air in a waving dismissive gesture. "Jesus..." I mumbled. "Hi!" Jesus said all chummy. I wasn't feeling very chummy towards Jesus. We had just gotten out of the pokey for, like, the fifth time since arriving in Italy. "Gosh! It sure is beautiful on this canal!" Jesus mused. I went to take a little puff of white out of the bag and to my chagrin realized that the marshmellows now rested on Jesus' lap. "Hey! Come ON now!" I gestured angrily at the bag. Jesus giggled mischievously and handed me back the bag. I grabbed it back, irritated. The bag was empty. Jesus giggled again and waved his hand and the bag was full. Of mini rice cakes. "Better for you...and for that...um...little waistline of yours. I flushed with anger, embarrassment, and shame. "Oh great! Is this your way of being loving and kind?!?!" I asked with tears gathering in my eyes and threatening to slide down my face. "Oh for cryin' out loud!" muttered Jesus. "Try to have a little sarcastic fun...try to be just the slightest bit cynical! But NNNNNOOOOOOO! Not Jesus...Jesus can't be sarcasticcynicallyclevernaughtygossipyflirtynastybitinglyfunny...he's got to be the GOOD BOY! Well I'm SICK of it!" And he, somehow he got the bag of marshmellows back, threw the bag up in the air and little white blocks of delight came down littering the canal, the boat, and us.
"Tsk."
"Come on..."
"No...you know it's true..."
"Come on now..."
"I have to be so "Up-With-People-ish" all the f-ing time! It's not FAIR!"
Here I had to really, really just breathe. Nothing else. Just take in some breaths. I think I hummed a little. Because Jesus is not "the good boy". I mean, HOLY CRAP! He's in trouble ALL the time! I am constantly having to get us out of jams! He's the flirting-est religious icon I know! He's sassy, mean-spirited, goofy, and glowy. He's the definition of sarcasm and he's the definition of grace. As I hummed some more I realized just how important he was in my life and when I thought of him being the definition of grace I got truly, really truly, this is no embellishment...I got choked up. He was my hero.
"You know your my savior...right?" I said.
He blushed! OMG! Jesus blushed at me!!!
"It's true. I don't know what I would do if we didn't know each other. There would be a really big hole in my life. You know that right?"
"Yeah..." he muttered with a little upside down smile on his face which showcased his dimples quite nicely.
"What do you want to do? Get some gelato?!?!" I asked.
"Paragliding!" He said hopefully.
"Again!?!?" I asked and his face started to fall but I was laughing and he started laughing too.
"I love you dude." Jesus said.
"I love you too." I said back.
"Tsk."
"Come on..."
"No...you know it's true..."
"Come on now..."
"I have to be so "Up-With-People-ish" all the f-ing time! It's not FAIR!"
Here I had to really, really just breathe. Nothing else. Just take in some breaths. I think I hummed a little. Because Jesus is not "the good boy". I mean, HOLY CRAP! He's in trouble ALL the time! I am constantly having to get us out of jams! He's the flirting-est religious icon I know! He's sassy, mean-spirited, goofy, and glowy. He's the definition of sarcasm and he's the definition of grace. As I hummed some more I realized just how important he was in my life and when I thought of him being the definition of grace I got truly, really truly, this is no embellishment...I got choked up. He was my hero.
"You know your my savior...right?" I said.
He blushed! OMG! Jesus blushed at me!!!
"It's true. I don't know what I would do if we didn't know each other. There would be a really big hole in my life. You know that right?"
"Yeah..." he muttered with a little upside down smile on his face which showcased his dimples quite nicely.
"What do you want to do? Get some gelato?!?!" I asked.
"Paragliding!" He said hopefully.
"Again!?!?" I asked and his face started to fall but I was laughing and he started laughing too.
"I love you dude." Jesus said.
"I love you too." I said back.
Monday, December 7, 2009
an or Last night's dream 12/07/09
Last night I dreamt that Jesus and I were at happy hour and he had knocked back a few and he was talking about his dad...again.
"Everyone thinks Dad is a planner! Dad's not a planner...no. He's a spur of the moment guy! Really, you think he sat down and diagrammed out some of this shit?"
I tried to change the subject..."Isn't our waiter a cutie?" I tried.
"Like platypuses, Hitler, colic for babies, whipped cream in a can, osteoporosis, ostriches, shooting stars, the mojito..." and here he holds up his mojito. "All FLUKES!"
"Well..." I begin.
"And FLUKES too! Flukes are flukes...He would finish dinner, turn to Mom and say, 'Goin' to the basement for awhile.' and off he'd trot and sit there in a broken down barco-lounger...oh, it was so cool, it was red leather and that thing ROCKED. I could sell that on Ebay for, like, I bet maybe a thousand bucks!"
"Well..." I get out.
"So he'd sit in this barco-lounger and he's mutter to himself for awhile and pop a Pepsi or a Pabst. Pretty soon he'd be up and rummaging around in these tubs he kept down there and the next thing you know he'd come up and drop something like a platypus or a toucan on to the dining room table and make all of us kids comment on it. Mom would literally run out of the house and be watering the garden (of Eden) or something by the time he reached the top of the stairs. We kids didn't mind, she had to put up with him all the years before we were all born so..."
"Well..." I attempted.
"So this toucan or maybe a macaw or a miniature pony or a goatee would be sitting there and we'd have to give it stars. Five stars was super good and one star was like a 'try-again-dad' thing. No one ever gave Dad one star!" and Jesus burst into giggles.
"Well..."
"Yeah, there WAS one time that Neil, my brother Neil, gave Dad one star and (eruption of giggles) oh crap man! Dad turned Neil into a miniature putt putt golf course for three days! See! No planning! He just pulled stuff like that out of his ass! (another giggle eruption)"
"Well..."
Silence.
"Oh! Well..."
"Yeah, my old man! I couldn't be prouder! Don't get me wrong! The imagination on that guy! It's AMAZING!!! I mean he is ALWAYS thinking! And 99% of the time he's spot on! Brilliant! But I really live for that other 1%, know what I mean? I live for those times when Dad goes a little tilt-a-whirl on shit! (more giggling)"
"Well..."
"And the coolest thing about Dad? He's all forgiving. Yeah, he might turn you into a golf course or something when he's ticked off but then he comes around and forgives everyone for any stupid shit they do. That's the real beauty of Dad. Hey, let's get another mojito, `k?"
"Everyone thinks Dad is a planner! Dad's not a planner...no. He's a spur of the moment guy! Really, you think he sat down and diagrammed out some of this shit?"
I tried to change the subject..."Isn't our waiter a cutie?" I tried.
"Like platypuses, Hitler, colic for babies, whipped cream in a can, osteoporosis, ostriches, shooting stars, the mojito..." and here he holds up his mojito. "All FLUKES!"
"Well..." I begin.
"And FLUKES too! Flukes are flukes...He would finish dinner, turn to Mom and say, 'Goin' to the basement for awhile.' and off he'd trot and sit there in a broken down barco-lounger...oh, it was so cool, it was red leather and that thing ROCKED. I could sell that on Ebay for, like, I bet maybe a thousand bucks!"
"Well..." I get out.
"So he'd sit in this barco-lounger and he's mutter to himself for awhile and pop a Pepsi or a Pabst. Pretty soon he'd be up and rummaging around in these tubs he kept down there and the next thing you know he'd come up and drop something like a platypus or a toucan on to the dining room table and make all of us kids comment on it. Mom would literally run out of the house and be watering the garden (of Eden) or something by the time he reached the top of the stairs. We kids didn't mind, she had to put up with him all the years before we were all born so..."
"Well..." I attempted.
"So this toucan or maybe a macaw or a miniature pony or a goatee would be sitting there and we'd have to give it stars. Five stars was super good and one star was like a 'try-again-dad' thing. No one ever gave Dad one star!" and Jesus burst into giggles.
"Well..."
"Yeah, there WAS one time that Neil, my brother Neil, gave Dad one star and (eruption of giggles) oh crap man! Dad turned Neil into a miniature putt putt golf course for three days! See! No planning! He just pulled stuff like that out of his ass! (another giggle eruption)"
"Well..."
Silence.
"Oh! Well..."
"Yeah, my old man! I couldn't be prouder! Don't get me wrong! The imagination on that guy! It's AMAZING!!! I mean he is ALWAYS thinking! And 99% of the time he's spot on! Brilliant! But I really live for that other 1%, know what I mean? I live for those times when Dad goes a little tilt-a-whirl on shit! (more giggling)"
"Well..."
"And the coolest thing about Dad? He's all forgiving. Yeah, he might turn you into a golf course or something when he's ticked off but then he comes around and forgives everyone for any stupid shit they do. That's the real beauty of Dad. Hey, let's get another mojito, `k?"
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Last night's dream 12/05/09
Last night I dreamt I was in a Mexican bar in Mexico. It was a rough bar. It was not a good situation. I was very nervous. I sat off in the corner mostly staring down at the floor or at my festive alcoholic beverage. I didn't realize it until something was said but I was doing that annoying habit that I have...I was twiddling my thumbs.
"Thumb twiddler, uh?" Shouted out a guy who had a scar running across his face.
"You come in HERE and twiddle?!?!" Yelled a really big hairy guy with no shirt.
"I..." I choked out.
"What you BORED, Thumb twiddler? Is that it? We BORE you?" Demanded a guy with one eye.
"I..." Hoarsely.
"Come on Thumb Twit! Let us in on your little secret! Why you so BORED here, uh? WHY you come in HERE and twiddle like that, uh? And it better be GOOD!" said a really enormous guy with a mustache and tattoos...who turned out to be the barmaid.
"No..." I struggled to raise my voice above a whisper. "No...not bored...shy...uncomfortable...nervous...not...bored, no...I'm...not me...lovely...bar...really...great...decor...good....stuff...festive drinks...lovely..." I spewed out between the thunder of my heartbeats.
They all glared at me menacingly.
Then Barbara Streisand bursts through the door in her Yentl attire and a birthday cake in her hands. The cake is shaped like a turduken. Everyone gathers around and a rousting round or three of happy birthday ensues.
I'm forgotten in my corner. Twiddling my thumbs in earnest.
"Thumb twiddler, uh?" Shouted out a guy who had a scar running across his face.
"You come in HERE and twiddle?!?!" Yelled a really big hairy guy with no shirt.
"I..." I choked out.
"What you BORED, Thumb twiddler? Is that it? We BORE you?" Demanded a guy with one eye.
"I..." Hoarsely.
"Come on Thumb Twit! Let us in on your little secret! Why you so BORED here, uh? WHY you come in HERE and twiddle like that, uh? And it better be GOOD!" said a really enormous guy with a mustache and tattoos...who turned out to be the barmaid.
"No..." I struggled to raise my voice above a whisper. "No...not bored...shy...uncomfortable...nervous...not...bored, no...I'm...not me...lovely...bar...really...great...decor...good....stuff...festive drinks...lovely..." I spewed out between the thunder of my heartbeats.
They all glared at me menacingly.
Then Barbara Streisand bursts through the door in her Yentl attire and a birthday cake in her hands. The cake is shaped like a turduken. Everyone gathers around and a rousting round or three of happy birthday ensues.
I'm forgotten in my corner. Twiddling my thumbs in earnest.
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