last night's dream 11/29/09

Last night I dreamt that I was getting ready for the presidential inauguration. I had done some great thing that got me an invitation to sit on the dais whilst the new president was sworn in. I was standing in my closet and I was in a panic because the more I looked the more apparent it became that I owned NOTHING even remotely acceptable for such an important and serious event. I kept flicking through my wardrobe thinking, "When did I buy THIS?!?!?" And I'm looking at these, well, really nice quality pasty and g-string sets, tutus in darn near all the colors of the rainbow, dominatrix outfits, including some very strange rubber and latex stuff, a clown costume, and three, count them!, three nurses uniforms from the 1940's complete with cape and cap. There was a set of scrubs with a kitten motif, a "Punk Sucks" t-shirt that I made in the 80's and was sure had disintegrated off my body back in `92, a "Kiss the Cook" apron, and a complete Samurai warrior battle armour from the late 1600's. "Hmmm..." I pondered. "Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm." I kept flicking. "Aha!" I shouted. Way at the back of the closet, I had spotted a stunning evening gown of sapphire blue and I thought, "Now, there's the ticket!" When I pulled the dress off the rack I saw that it had no back. I don't mean low...I mean like it stopped at the sides. No back. What-so-ever. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. And I thought, "Oh, come on now!" I kept turning it around thinking, I don't know, that a back was going to be there somehow. But no. No. I put the dress on. It looked absolutely smashing from the front. Absolutely. Then I spun around and...well, there you have it. Bare naked Elliott butt. "That's not going to fly..." I reflected thoughtfully. So I got all "Project Runway" and began cutting up some of the more demure latex stuff and stitching it to the dress. When I was done I had a pretty exciting haute couture-ish frock on my hands. There was even a bustle made from various tutus. I got all dolled up and heard the limo beep, beep its horn and I smiled as I took one last twirl in the mirror. All I had to do was slap on some shoes and I was ready to go...then I opened the shoe closet with a flourish, peeked inside and began to weep.

Last night's dream 11/26/09

Last night I dreamt I was walking in the woods and then suddenly it was dark. Behind me a voice said, "Here. Here's a flashlight." I took the flashlight. It was the kind you have to crank to make work. So I'm cranking away and it's producing this amazing beam of light that has colors in it and every once in a while a little lightning burst that zigzags across the beam. "This is so cool!" I exclaim as I crank. "Where did you get it?" "Sharper Image." she says. "No. That's not true..." she continues. "Best...Tar...Wa....hmmm...I MADE it for you." she finally admits. "You MADE this!?!?!" "Yes, for you." I blush. "For me..." I wallow in this. "You've stopped cranking..." she informs me. I crank again and we continue.

Last night's dream 11/24/09

Last night I dreamt I was on a quest of some kind. A black man and I had begun by walking out the door of a house. Part of the quest was that I take nothing with me. We stopped at a man's house. This man was one of those guys who had a perpetual yard sale going on in his carport. We were offered food by this man and I pulled out two butter knives and my guide and I ate some steak and then he said it was time to get rid of the knives. So I went to the yard sale man, the merchant, and I asked what I could get for the knives. He pointed to a basket filled with stuff and said, "Anything in the basket..." then he reached over and removed a golden egg shaped Christmas ornament from the basket and set it aside and then said again, "Anything in the basket..." Other men appeared around the table and they started pulling things out of the basket and commenting on these items. Several glass salt shakers came out of the basket and the men lined them up. Each was filled with salt and most were clear but there was a pale, pale pink one that was so very pale that I had to keep asking myself, "Is it clear or pink?" The merchant agreed to give me six of the salt shakers in exchange for the two butter knives. One of the knives was sterling but several of the salt shakers had sterling tops so I felt the deal was good. I took the salt shakers, wrapped them in styrafoam and then in a green felt cloth and headed over to two small cots that the guide and I were going to sleep in that night. I began to tell the guide about the salt shakers and my plan to leave them somewhere whilst we were questing and to pick them up again on the return trip. Before I could speak the guide said angrily, "What have you DONE? What have you DONE girl?!?! Now, not only do you have this book", and he held up a book and waved it around, "but now you have these things as well?!?! What are you thinking? This is not a game! We are on a quest. The only rule I had for you was to bring nothing. Nothing!" and he stormed away from me. I began to cry with shame. Eventually the guide returned and said, "Come on...we need to get hot water for the tea." We headed over to the back door of the merchant's home and knocked on an aluminum screen door. The merchant came to the door and the guide asked for hot water for tea. As he turned I blurted, "Ex..ex...excuse me, sir!" He turned and through sobs I asked if I might return the salt shakers and in return for the knives if it might be possible for him to mail the book back home for me. Both the merchant and the guide smiled and the guide embraced me and kissed my face.

Last night's dream 11/21/09

Last night I dreamt that Rosebud, Nigel, and I were on the road again. We were driving to Norway to see the Northern Lights. Rosebud was cranky in the crate, Nigel was sleeping. I was playing Brandi Carlile on the CD player and singing at the top of my voice. That's about when the cop pulled us over. I was fumbling to find the registration in a lunchbox on the front seat when the officer tap, tap, tapped on the window. I had shut off the car so I couldn't roll down the window so I held up a finger to let him know that I was going to start the car and roll down the window. Well, I had injured my pointer finger and so I used my middle finger to alert the policeman that I was going to be a minute. That gesture got me, "OUT OF THE CAR, MA'AM! RIGHT NOW! OUT!" So I opened the door and stepped out. The officer's sharp intake of breath told me that something probably wasn't quite normal. I looked down to find I had on a pair of rubber pink pasties and a little rainbow fringe g-string and a pair of KILLER, and I can't stress this enough, KILLER Louboutin pink satin heels with a gigantic bow on the back. "I..." I sputtered and handed him my license and registration and insurance card and for some reason my mortgage paperwork and Nigel and Rosebud's notebook on their complete history, my Social Security card, a library book from the back seat on whales that Nigel was reading, and a discourse on the butch/femme roles of lesbians that I had borrowed from a friend. The officer dumped everything on the ground but the license, glanced at it and said, "Elliott...Elliott, Elliott, Elliott. What would Father Flanigan say?" and I burst into tears. He comforted me and I was really at a loss because I had no idea who Father Flanigan was, I wasn't Catholic, and I wasn't really ashamed of the costume because on second look I found that I had the body of the 20 year old Elliott and well, frankly, I was rocking those pasties and g-string like you would not believe. Plus I couldn't get over the shoes. Finally I was all out of tears and I said, after sneaking a peek at his name tag, "Officer Flynn, what did I do?" He replied, "Remember back about a hundred miles you were in Pit, Nebraska?" "Wha..?" "Think! Elliott, Think! Pit! It's important!" But I couldn't remember Pit. So Flynn continued, "You were in Pit and you stopped in a thrift store and you bought a black sweater and a mug that said, "Kiss Me I'm the Pope" on the side. I said, "Officer Flynn, I'm sorry but what is it with all these Catholic references? I mean, you know by now that I'm not religious that I know very little about Catholicism and yet here I am seemingly embroiled in some Irish Catholic drama I know nothing about." And Officier Flynn patted me on the shoulder and he said, "It's not you we're after...it's HIM." and he pointed to Nigel sleeping in his crate in the back of the Prius. "WHAT!?!?" I said starting to feel around my hips looking for, obviously, the gun I usually carried there. I glanced into the car and saw it laying on the seat. It was a Nerf ball gun and of little use in this situation. Officer Flynn said, "He's the ONE. He's the next Dalai Lama and we Catholics have been ordrered to stop him. He mustn't lead the Buddhists or things on Earth will change in ways you and I can't even imagine!" I was struck dumb. Officer Flynn had his gun drawn and me in handcuffs before I was able to react. I stood numbly while he handcuffed my feet and set me down by the side of the road. I was crying like mad and offering anything I could think of to stop Flynn from taking Nigel. "My retirement fund!" I yelled, "It's dwindled over the years but it's your Flynn, ALL YOURS...you could take the wife and go to Mexico and live FOREVER!" I wasn't really sure the money would last forever but if the market continued to improve, who knew? Stocks were always a gamble anyway and if he had a good financial advisor he could make that money last! "I will give you my financial advisor too!" I screamed. Flynn had removed his officer uniform to reveal some kind of Bishop or Cardinal's attire...who knows? I'm NOT Catholic! I was flailing around all over the place as Flynn holstered his gun and began to unzip the crate Nigel was in. I could see Nigel asleep and Rosebud next to him with her headphones on, reading a Vogue magazine. Then I saw her swivel one hairy eyeball at Flynn and her tail flicked. Flynn ignored her and I felt some hope welling up. She flicked her tail again and got up and did a deceptively languid stretch. Then, just as Flynn's meaty hands were encircling Nigel, Rosebud released her fury. Ten razor sharp claws (how, I don't know, I had just trimmed them the day before) sunk into Flynn's flesh, 32 (or however many teeth cats have) dagger edged teeth sunk into his pasty arm and Flynn released Nigel and yanked back, Rosebud still attached. He danced around with Rosebud doing this quite elegant Ninja-esque attack on his entire being. She got both his arms, his fleshy neck, and his face. Once she had him on the ground in a puddle of his own blood and sweat she strolled over, removed her headset, I could still here X playing through the little buds, and uncuffed me. "Fucking organized religion..." she sighed. I said, "Hey, young lady, watch the language." but she could tell by my beaming that she had done well. She headbutted me and bit my earlobe. We got back in the car and I gunned it out of there. Nigel woke up and said, "Mom, can we go there?" I said, "Where son?" and he said, "What that man said, to the Deli with the lambs. Can I pet the lambs?" I said, "Whereever you want to go little Holiness..."

Last night's dream 11/20/09

Last night I dreamt there was a pig and a bee in a pink bed. That's all I'm saying. The rest is pretty X rated, even for farm animals.

Last night's dream 11/19/09

Last night I dreamt that an owl got into bed with me and snuggled up under the covers. It looked into my eyes with its deep brown ones and tilted its head to the side then shook it gently in a "no no" motion. Then it touched my cheek with one of its wings and placed its face against mine. I couldn't move. There was a bubble of energy surrounding us and I was transfixed by the gentle flow and ebb of our breaths. The owl moved its head back to look into my eyes again and I felt myself melting. It began to expand and when it reached five foot nine and three quarter inches it stopped. I thought, "Oh it's you!"

Last night's dream 11/17/09

Last night I dreamt some pretty steamy stuff that I really can't write about in a blog. Let's just say there was a lot of skin and rubbing and ooohing and aaaahhhing and ohmygodding going on and it was better than swimming in a tub of ice cream in an insulated suit!

Last night's dream 11/15/09

Last night I dreamt I was a judge for pies at State Fairs. I would travel from fair to fair and judge the pies. The judging was supposed to be like wine tasting. I was supposed to take a bite of pie and chew a little and then spit it into a bucket and nibble a saltine to clear my palette before tasting the next pie. I started to cheat almost immediately and swallow the bites of pies. I was a basket case. I was very afraid I would get caught and lose the job and I really needed the money. I kept telling myself, "Just spit it out. Go back to the rules." But being a Gemini there would always be an argument.
"Just spit it out. Go back to the rules."
"Screw you. This pie is GOOD!"
"You NEED this job. Spit into the bucket."
"Mmmmmm. PIE!"
"Spit. Spit. SPIT!"
"Blueberry and hmmmm what is that secret ingredient?!"
"For the LOVE OF GOD woman! Spit!"
"Is that cardamom?"
The evil Elliott was winning the war. My teeth were stained blue from the blueberry pies and I had gained 30 pounds. Finally I couldn't take it anymore I realized I was on a spiral going down, down, down. So I went to management. Management was really "Management", the guy from the show Carnivale. I said, "I have to get out of the pie judging biz. Is there anything open at the petting zoo?"
"Can you grow a beard?"
"No, I..." but I reached up and darned if I didn't feel a five o'clock shadow! "Yes, sure. I...yeah."
"Ok, ok. I'll give you a few days to grow it out and then you can take the Bearded Lady gig. It's either that or the fat lady."
"The...what?!?!...Oh my god..."
So I went home and sat around eating pies because I have no willpower. After 3 days I was walking around with an amazing ZZ-Topish beard that I stroked lovingly every few minutes. A nervous twitch of sorts.
I didn't know if it was a promotion or a demotion but now I sat on a chair and told stories about my beard to little snotty nosed kids and their bored parents.
I still argued with myself.
"You left behind PIES...PIES....for THIS?!?!?"
"I think I've lost 6 ounces..."
"Remember those coconut cream ones that I swear were a foot high?"
"Six ounces may not sound like much but I think my jeans are fitting a little looser..."
"Then there were the chocolate pies and the rhubarb ones and the mixed berry..."
"And six ounces today COULD turn into a whole pound by the end of the week."
"Remember that one in that little town in Oklahoma? What the hell was it...not sweet potato pie...not quite pumpkin...maybe a mix? I gave that gal two blue ribbons it was THAT good!"
I would usually begin to cry at that point and have to close down my tent until I could gather myself back together.
Finally Management came over and sat me down.
"Look honey, this bearded gig isn't working for you. It's either the fat lady tent or back to the pies."
"PIES!" I shouted before I could stop myself. And pies it was. That is until the bi-plane pilot joined us and I realized my true calling. Wingwalker.

Last night's dream 11/13/09

Last night I dreamt I was having a New Year's Eve party. I had invited so many people that I didn't have any bowls or platters to put the massive amounts of hors d'oeuvres in. So I went to the hardware store and purchased garbage cans and thought I was very cool and that it would be trendy and industrial and hip. But when I got home and put the guacamole in the galvanized can it looked totally stupid. So I had to shovel it back out and the gorgeous green color was starting to tinge with brown so I was hauling out the lemon juice and squirting it all over the place because I was getting very nervous because I still hadn't figured out my food dilemma and I still had to dress and then I was worried that no one would come and that led to examining my entire life and playing with the edges of low self-esteem while still shoveling guac out of the garbage can. "Get CONTROL!" I thought wildly, "Get some frickin' control here!" I opened a drawer and found to my relief some blow up bowls that I had forgotten all about. I blew up the biggest bowl, which was a lime green, and the guac fit in it just fine and I was nearly in tears with relief. Then I blew up another bowl and it was blue and I put in the seventeen bags of blue corn chips into that bowl and it looked marvelous! "I'm on a roll! A roll!" I chortled. The next bowl was a lovely yellow and cut up yellow peppers fit perfectly into that. A red bowl held what appeared to be a never ending supply of raspberries. I blew up the next bowl and it was white. I went up stairs to the bathroom because I had used the tub to whip the cream and I filled the white bowl with the whipped cream and placed that next to the berries. "It's aaaalllll starting to come together!" I thought and my heart rate was slowing and I was actually starting to act fairly normal again. I went up to get into my fetching cocktail dress for the party. When I opened the closet I found an entire colony of ferrets. "Oh. Hey. No ."I began and they responded by docking and clucking until they realized I was not there to welcome them warmly then they began to screech and bark in terror and excitement. "Dang it! Dang it now!" I was flummoxed.
I just stood there and then the hissing in annoyance started and once one of them got going there was no stopping the entire colony. So here I am standing in the doorway naked and there they are all over my clothes hissing and some even started waving their little fists at me. "Just what I need!" I thought, "A colony of ferrets! Tsk." I glanced at the clock and realized guests would be arriving shortly. I would have to deal with the ferrets later. And of course by then I was becoming really fond of them even though they were hissing and waving their little fists at me in anger. "They are SO DAMN CUTE!" I thought. "Where's my dress?" and then I saw that my special, perfect-for-the-party-I-actually-look-kinda-hot-in-this cocktail dress was laying in a heap on the floor and ferret babies were asleep in the folds. "Crap." "Oh my god they are so adorable!" "It's the perfect dress..." "Oh! One opened her eyes!" "I have to move them, gently, to any other dress in the world, but I have to move them off THE dress...I am not moving them. They are asleep! Oh! How cute are they?!?!" So I closed the door and the only clothes outside the closet were a plaid skirt that was a size too small and my old Microsoft t-shirt that was ripped and worn and was over 20 years old. I put those on and slammed my feet into a fabulous pair of Faryl Robin's that I found on my dresser. Nothing matched and I looked like hell except for from the ankles down. From the ankles down I killed! I went to run a comb through my hair but one look in the mirror told me I was bald. So I taped a pink bow to my forehead and waited for the doorbell to ring.

Last night's dream 11/11/09

Last night I dreamt that I was in math class in high school. All these young kids surround me and I think, "Wow...was I like THAT when I was in high school? Surely not. I HAD to have been more mature than these kids..." Then the teacher walks in and immediately starts writing this HUGE algebra problem on the board and all the kids kind of quiet down, except for the two really giggly girls in the back who keep texting and whispering, as the rest of the class stays focused on the board and starts scratching out the problem on their lined tablets with number two pencils. I think, "Quaint!" The teacher suddenly whirls around and throws a pencil at the two girls in the back and that pencil goes right past MY head and just about takes out an EYE! I am so...insulted! I start to loudly complain and I get out, "HE...(part of "hey you stupid bastard!") but then I look at the teacher's face and realize he is the Devil and I decide not to let it bother me. "Go to your Zen place..." I gently tell myself. The Devil turns around and continues writing out this massive problem on the board after he confirms that the two girls have settled down and are focused only on algebra...although I know that one of them continues to text under her desk while she looks up at the board all innocent and concerned. The Devil FINALLY stops writing and smacks the the chalk down HARD on his desk. Then he says, "Pop quiz. You have 10 minutes to complete this problem." Then he sits down, takes out a Reader's Digest and starts reading Humor in Uniform. I think, "Oh crap!" because I haven't even been copying the problem down because after all I was in my late forties and I was both past algebra and algebra was beyond me. So I frantically start writing the problem down and the tip of my pencil snaps off and I have to go to the front of the room really close to the Devil to sharpen it on one of those really old bolted-into-place pencil sharpeners and I think fleetingly, "These pencil sharpeners are really cool...I should get one for the house..." before I realize I really, really need to FOCUS or I'm going to get an F and who knows what the consequences are! So I kind of skip/run back to my desk and really get busy copying the problem down. The Devil stands up and starts ERASING the problem! I'm like, "What the f...." and I'm looking around at the kids but they have all copied the problem down AGES ago and half of them have finished the problem and are staring out the window or trying to look at their text messages without getting caught or making pen ink tattoos on their arms. I have about a quarter of the problem copied and then poof it's gone. Gone. I think, "Panic now?" Then I think, "No...don't panic. Pretend to be cool. I'm SO NOT cool! That's okay...you are just pretending to be cool you don't actually have to BE cool. Just don't be the opposite of cool. So what? You fail the pop quiz. You are not a heroin addict. You do not have small children in some third world country sew your garments...well, you might actually without knowing. You know I really should KNOW which brands do that shit and stop buying those brands. I wonder if there is an Internet site that has a list and what if I buy it in a thrift store? Does that count? Well, yes, it WOULD count because you are still wearing that brand and..." and then the eraser hits me in the head and the Devil repeats, "The board, Night, please proceed to the board." And I realize I have been called on to complete the problem at the board. So I stroll up and while I'm walking up I am thinking, "Do I just write a bunch of crap up there and pretend I know what I'm doing or do I just turn and tell the Devil, "Hey I got nothin' here." or do I say I have to go to the bathroom and call someone from the stall like a lifeline call or do I turn and tell the old guy that I don't even CARE about algebra and I'm in my forties and what the hell...when did I ever use algebra in my real life? I own a calculator for Pete's sake!" and while all this is going on I realize I have reached the board and I'm standing there and the room is dead silent and the Devil is so close I can feel his hairy breath on my shoulder and I "tsk" and pick up the chalk and...and then I glance to my right and there's the Virgin Mary and she's wearing a baseball uniform and she's giving me a thumbs up and saying, "You can DO it!" over and over and I think, "Crap! No I CAN'T." So I just write the number seven on the board and draw a big circle around it and slam the chalk down on the Devil's desk and walk back to my desk and sit down and cross my one leg over my knee and slouch and even pull out a toothpick from somewhere and casually place it in the corner of my mouth. I look up just in time to see the Devil turn into a pile of red dust at the front of the classroom. Then the bell rings.

Last night's dream 11/10/09

Last night I dreamt I was in the "bad" part of town. For some reason I had paid this gang $300 for a sightseeing tour of the area but they weren't sightseeing me anywhere they were doing their drug money pick up run and buying stolen goods from the trunks of cars. I was getting pretty frustrated but what could I do? They were, after all, gangstas. After we had stood around the back of a black bruised Buick for about 30 minutes I just could not take it anymore and I demanded my money back. They laughed. I told them if they didn't give me my money back I was going to follow them everywhere and talk and talk and talk and talk and then I started talking and talking and talking and they realized that I wasn't joking. One of the guys pulled back his jacket and flashed a gun but for some reason I just kept right on talking "Ohyeahmanlikeagunisgoingtostopthisstreamofconsciousnesswhynotjustgivememydamnthreehundreddollarsbackmotherf*ckerandwecangoourseparatewaysbutwithoutthatgreenI'mhangingwithmyboysFOREVERmanandImeanthatImeanthatImeanthatshowmemoregunsmanshowmeallthegunsIwillcreateasongaboutgunsandsingittoyouoverandoverandovermaybeI'llstartnowwanttohearmygunjamnowmybrothers? And so on. Finally they all do the fabulous defeated "tsk" sound and hand over my money. I walk away triumphant but I'm shaking like a leaf.

Last night's dream 11/08/09

Last night I dreamt that I finally got that pair of Loubouton's that I had been drooling over. The ones with the 4 inch heels that I convinced myself would somehow be not only easy to walk in but comfortable for two hours. "I can wear any shoe that is comfortable for two hours!" I convinced myself forcefully. But when they arrived they came in a size 9 instead of 6. I called the factory and they yelled a bunch of French at me and hung up. I then received a package in the mail. It was a foot stretcher and a manual about 3 inches thick in French. I did a bunch of "tsk" sounds and then I started typing a paragraph at a time into an automated translation website. The text was very philosophical and profound. But basically it said, "This is going to be painful but worth it. Many people will like you much better when you are in your Louboutin's than like you now. You will have a much more sparkling personality and you will delight people with your wit and charm. So get your feet into the excruciatingly painful stretchers and get to work!" So I sat on the couch with tears streaming down my cheeks as the stretchers worked their magic. It wasn't until after I had gotten up to an 8 that I realized none of my other shoes would ever fit again. Thank goodness I still hadn't bought the Prada's!

Last night's dream 11/07/09

Last night I dreamt that Rosebud, Nigel and I were going to the Gay Pride Festival. Rosebud had on a torn T-shirt that just said PRIDE on it in big black letters and a pair of really adorable black combat boots. Nigel had on pink Hello Kitty sneakers and a rainbow tutu. I had on a Xena warrior outfit for some reason. As is usual, the cats were walking upright. Rosebud had on her MP3 player and I could here Cheryl Crow blasting out of her ears. "You are going to go deaf young lady..." I started. "What?" she replied and I took the bait and said again, "You are going to..." then I saw her snickering. Nigel was humming YMCA and carrying one of his Q-Tip sticks with the fluffy ends removed.
"Why is the guy going to have a good time at the Y, Mom?" he asked.
"What honey?"
"The guy, Mom, the guy! The young man..."
"Oh, well, because he can find many ways to have a good time."
"Like what?"
"Well...honey...he can get himself clean and have a good meal..."
"Oh! I like a good meal, Mom!"
"Oh hon, I know you do..."
"What else can he do at the Y, Mommy?"
"He can make real his dreams."
"I want to make real MY dreams..."
"That's great Nigel! I wouldn't expect less from you."
"Mom, do YOU want to go to the Y and make real your dreams?"
And then I woke up. But the answers is yes. I would love to make real my dreams.

Last night's dream 11/02/09

Last night I once again dreamt I was making spaghetti. The pot was the size of a Volkswagen. It was over a big bonfire out in a parking lot. I had to climb up on a rickety old wooden ladder to get to the pot. First I filled it with water from a hose. I had to chase a couple of ducks off the water when they mistook it for a small pond. The water heated pretty quickly. I was pleasantly surprised by this and even remember thinking, "Well...that's a pleasant surprise! Must have been the salt." See I had been told by my Mom that salt will bring water to a boil more quickly than unsalted water. So I had thrown in a 5 lb. bag of salt when the pot was filling. Next I had to get the spaghetti in there. Now it was regular size so this was going to be the really hard part. How to get the spaghetti in there all at once so that it finished cooking at the same time. While the water was getting ready to boil I was frantically opening package after package of spaghetti. I asked Rosebud and Nigel to help but they just walked past me and Rosebud said, "I'm taking Nigel to the Ferris Wheel...you know we like to be up high." So I let them go realizing, "Oh, I'm cooking spaghetti for the folks at the Fair. Good enough!" Anyway, I'm opening all these packages of spaghetti and I'm putting the spaghetti on a sheet. I've got a big dumpster near me and I'm hefting the empty
packages into the dumpster and...I'm whistling. I'm whistling "In-A-Gada-da-vida", I'm doing a pretty righteous job of it, too! The sheet gets stacked higher and higher with this uncooked spaghetti and then I hear the water start to boil. I jump up on the rickety ladder and check and sure enough, these huge bubbles are coming to the surface and going "POP!". It was cool! I hurriedly climb back down the ladder and start to gather the four corners of the sheet together. I get it all together and man, that thing is packed with uncooked spaghetti! Then I climb up the ladder and heft the whole thing into the boiling pot of water. I only meant to throw in the pasta but the sheet got stuck and one thing led to another and it ended up in there too and what was I to do? So I got an oar and started stirring the spaghetti and I was able to fish out the sheet and it was all sticky with whatever it is that makes cooked pasta kind of slithery. I put the sheet off to the side and wipe my hands off on my apron and I look around but there's no clock and no timer and so I start counting thinking, "Well, that's okay, I can count for three minutes...al dente." So I'm counting away and the ducks try to come back and I have to fend them off with the oar and I lose count. Then I'm really mad. So I grab an oarful of the spaghetti and I throw it against an old barn and it sticks and I laugh and yell, "It's ready!"

Last night's dream 11/01/09

Last night I dreamt that I was in a white truck. The truck was "tricked out" so that the driver's seat was actually the passenger's seat turned sideways so that the entire truck drove down the road sideways. Needless to say this freaked out anyone else on the road. So I'm driving this truck down the road and before long many, many cop cars come along and not only siren up behind me but screech to a blasting halt in front of me blocking my path. Everyone is being very melodramatic and pulling guns...including, I realize with chagrin, me. I have what appears to be a pistol from probably a gunslinger and it is in my hands and it is pointed in the general direction of many a uniformed officer. I realize this is not my best action and think, "Why didn't I just get out my license and registration?!?!" I think, "Why don't I think before I act? What is it with this impulsive behavior? Is it really SERVING me?" and then I think, "No, it is not serving me and now I am in a pickle and the law is about to shoot many, many holes into me and all because of this dang truck." Then I sigh and I yell, "This here truck is loaded with explosives boys so I'd put those guns right the hell down if I was you!" and I think "Oh for heaven's sake! Am I NOT already in enough trouble? MUST I cause an even bigger ruckus?!?!?" The cops all look at each other waiting for someone in charge to make "the call" and tell them either to blast away at me or to "stand down". "Stand down!" some guy yells with authority and they do. Every one of those cops holsters their weapons and then they start milling around over by their cars because really, it's a small town not some cop TV show and they have never dealt with not only a truck driving sideways down the road but a loony with explosives. I think, "I don't really have explosives..." and then I glance in my rearview mirror and damn it! I do have a truck load of explosives. "Oh, for the love of....!" I think. Then I do a lot of "Tsk." noises because I can't think of anything else to do. "I had to go shoe shopping today, didn't I?" I think as if my desire for shoes was to blame for the strange truck, the cops, and the explosives. We spend about five minutes like that. Me in the cab going "Tsk. (pause) Tsk. (pause) Tsk, tsk." and the cops kind of milling around. I hear some scraps of conversation...they are mostly talking about some sports or Survivor or how uncomfortable their bulletproof vests are. "They are!" I think too and look down to find I am wearing one of the vests. I glance in the mirror again and I have on a COP baseball cap. I can't even recall the number of "Tsks" I make at this point. Then the passenger door is yanked open and Neil Diamond hops in. "Hey!" he says. "Hey, Neil." I say. "Don't get discouraged..." he says, "These things happen..." "Yeah...you're rig..." I begin and then, "No! No, Neil! They don't HAPPEN. Am I a COP? Am I not a cop?!?! Who's truck is this? Why am I driving it? Where is the shoe store anyway? I usually order online!" I look over and Neil is pointing a tazer at me. "You're a little out of control today young lady." he says and tazers the crap out of me.