6 posts tagged “dreams”
*Other than the one that was painfully dashed when i woke up this morning and read the news from Maine.
So I'm in some type of hotel banquet hall and there's a dessert buffet and I'm piling my plates with Brownies when an instrumental version of "They Way We Where" starts playing. I start to hum along to it and the woman next to me does too. I turn. It's Meagan Mullally from Will and Grace.
We give each other a knowing nod and then start in on a full-out duet. The crowd is eating up and loving us (and I'm neglecting my brownies)! A spotlight shines on entryway of the banquet hall and guess who makes an entrance. No, not Babs but Bernadette Peters!
Normally, I'd be happy to see her. However that's not the case when she starts to steal me and Megan's shine. She totally takes over our song. I leave out in a huff-- with my plate of brownies. Then I hear a hubbub inside. Someone says, "Streisand is here! And Eminem?!"
So I get over my ego and rush inside to see the two. It turns out they're only impersonators. So Meagan, me and Bernadette make nice and finish out the song together while the Babs and Eminem impersonators goof off in the background.
Last night, I dreamed I pulled a well-oiled, terrifically toned and scantily clad (jock strap-- and knit cap?!?) black dude from beneath my couch cushion. And that was that. Nothing illicit popped off because I was a awaken by M leaving the bedroom. Was he leaving in umbrage? I don't know. Hope not. He goes into work earlier than me. Heaven forbid, I compelled him to get up a little earlier by talking in my sleep.
Anyway enough about him. I think the dream was my mind's way telling me to enjoy the little piece of Spring Break (Woo!) I get. I have tomorrow off and the weekend. So depending on what the cardiologist says about my heart tomorrow and how much stimulation it can take, I think I'm venturing down to Navy Yard to check out the resurrected Ziegfields/Secrets, a drag/go-go bar. Of course, if M's leave taking this morning was a result of me talking in my sleep (or any other manner of evil) I might want to keep my ass at home and put out that fire.
My dream last night kind of reminded me of this one.
- I was back home in Carolina and about the best I could do in regards to employment was a job at a toy store. Not even a fun giant one with the indoor rides and semi-creepy anamotronic cartoon characters always smiling and always happy, but cramp Kay-Bee Toys in the bowels of the mall. All messy. Always poorly lit.
- My transportation situation ain't so hot either. I drive into work on a minibike.
- Show up for my first day of work and stumble onto blackmail material. Of course this doesn't dawn on me until now. However, when I show up two of my co-workers, a male and a female, are coming out of the stock room and acting kind of shifty. I don't pay it any kind of attention because an stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh has caught my attention and I want it. My male co-worker offers it to me for half-off plus my employee discount. My female co-worker insist that he let me have for fifteen cents and then tells me my mother called.
- I try to call my Mom, but no answer. So I ride my minibike out to Tobaccoville to see her, but she not home. I go to my Aunt's house up the road but my brother is living there now. He tells me that my parents are loosing there house-- and my Dad filed for divorce. Two big bombs in a row and my first question to him is "Where's Mom going to live?" He smiles ,as I slowly come to the realization that I'm her only option, and says "That was the plan all along."
- We try to walking back to our house and have trouble making it down because we insist on cutting through the racist neighbors yard which is blocked off with cacti. I manage to make my way through with nary a prick and head to my parents house. Shortly after I arrive, The Chinese pull up. A woman tells that the house has been condemned and work crew commences to sawing out the downstairs window. Apparently just walking through the door wasn't an option.
- My dad shows up for dismantling. I want to lay into him, but remember I need to get back to work. Getting assurance that family pictures and my mother's wardrobe are safe (Can't two clotheshorses in need of clothes when one is only working-- at a toy store). I was too distraught to ride my minibike back to work. So my brother drives me back.
- Heading sixty-seven, I notice an old motor-cross field with a couple of drag queens and club-goers standing out there. As my brother speeds up a hill, there's this giant holographic sign on the horizon, featuring a few of the queens I saw and advertising for a drag show. I'm kind of spooked as my comes closer to crashing through the sign. But as we ride through, it just disappears.
- I don't make it back to work. Instead, I end up at BOTOX clinic. They've developed a method to gauge when you've had enough that involves the curling of a receipt. [I think that my minds way of trying to tell pry my hand from my forehead. Did I listening? No. I woke up with a numb forehead.]
- Ended up in the theater district of the imaginary city in my head. Probably looking for another job, since showing back up to the gig at the toy store was out the question after being absent most of my first day.
- Got side tracked on the job search by some weird sex stuff you don't need and don't want to hear about, except for the part where it was all brought to halt by Captain Jack Sparrow knocking at this window.
Of course, sitting here entranced by the above picture, I woke far too soon and the weird sex stuff you don't need and don't want to hear about should have started when Cap'n Jack came a knocking.. Maybe something like this Ahoy there, Jack. Is that Will with you? No! Thought he looked a little too blonde and those ears of his were a little too pointy. Oh! His cousin. The elf. Yeah, you can come on in too! I got an arrow for that quivers of yours . . .
I had a dream last night, which I'm pretty sure was Heroes inspired. I got a visit from Felipe de futuro. Not Phil del Futuro, mind you. I'm not having an R. Kelly moment. So there' s no need sicking Oprah on me. She's already got her hands full with 9,000 penises. This was me from the future with an oh so important message, "Save the Cheerleader and/or piece paper Sulu told you not to mess with, save the world. "You need to get your brakes checked."
And that was that. No Powerball numbers. No November election results. No nothing! Friggin' ethical S.O.B. To hell with the butterfly effect and the fear of throwing the world into chaos with one teeny change. What's the worst that can happen? A cataclysmic event? Yeah, but if I'm that man who managed to win MegaMillions and Powerball in the same week, I guess I can do my little part to help. The Red Cross just better make sure they have a highly encrypted paypal account and courier that's prepared to sacrifice his life for the rebellion. Because I'm not stepping a foot outside of my underground bunker, You know, unless John Connor (Bale incarnation preferably, but I can work with Stahl) wants to thank me personally or the other J.C. (again Bale preferably, but Jesus Chenowith* is cool too) is knocking to give me the all clear.
Speaking of miracle makers! On the plus side, he we, me Felipe del Futuro did look a lot little thinner and still healthy. Which means that if I don't have those brakes checked, I'm probably walking. Way to go Felipe del Futuro. You develops scruples but can't shake the laziness.
*Sad news, kids. Gyllenhaal Salad, my imaginary punk/funk band, is going on an indefinite hiatus. An spritual awakening has just pushed me in different direction. Be on the lookout my new imaginary Trip-Hop/Gopsel trio, Jesus Chenowith. Think Massive Attack meets Shirley Caesar.
I had a dream last night. I can't say it was News Years Eve, but we were counting to some big event that occurred at the stroke of midnight-- and one of the guest asked me, "So, are you ready for the end of the world?" And I just dismissed it with some pretentious speech-- doing relatively well to hide my angst in regards to a shared feeling of doom-- about Americans being so self-involved that they think that "if the universe decides to collapse in on us, it's going to happen at midnight, Eastern Standard time." And tonight, as I'm struggling to stay awake until midnight, I realize why I had that dream. Online tickets sales begin at the stroke of midnight and I got to stay up to make sure all of my prices are right. I'm pretty certain they are, but I just gotta to make sure I'm right.
Of course, that doesn't explain the second part of the dream. After all of this self-involved talk in my dream, I discover that I'm reality show contestant and I've been summoned to the basement by Tyra Banks. I make my way downstairs, afraid that I'm about to be dressed down ("Be quiet! Felipe, be quiet! I was rooting for you Felipe! We were all rooting for you!") But no, I'm not in for a tongue lashing. It's just a challenge. The girls and I rolled in these wraps from the neck down and completely bound. We have to help one another with make up for our next photo shoot, using only our mouths. What the hell, right? I just know I better not see that on ANTM Cycle 9, unless Ty-Ty shoots me a check in the mail. The only thing I can tie it to in reality is the fact that I pulled some Angus beef bits out of the freezer and intended on making fajitas today. So maybe I was just anxious about making the most prettiest fajitas that I possibly could. Who the hell knows? Ten minutes and counting . . .
Update: All the big shows were okay. I only problem with two of the academic shows. The prices weren't showing up for one of the shows. And the other show was coming up as FREE!!!! I contemplated rushing to the office at twelve in the morning to change it, but went to sleep, praying that I some fan of amateur musical theater wasn't also an opportunist. Lucky me, no tickets were purchased before I had the chance to change it this morning.
I had an unsettling dream last night-- well, more like early this morning. I went out gallivanting in DC last night. Well, I spent the better part of the night looking for a parking space. Then there was the gallivanting. Anyhow I got home and went right to bed and had a dream about shoes, sex and Alec Baldwin. I'll spare you any details about the second part there.
In my dream, M and I were going over to his cousin's house. Rather than riding with him, I decided I'd walk to get a work out and enjoy my new MP3 player, but I can't find one of my shoes. I look out the window and it's out in the parking lot. So I go to get it and run into a new neighbor with her kids. She has her hands full with groceries and I offer to help carry them up. We go up to her apartment and I find myself lusting after her convection oven and marble counter tops. Somehow this lust carries over to her and you know-- I'm going into uncharted territory. Ever since I fell for Kenneth in the first grade and ended up devastated when he moved away Florida, I knew I was sweet on boys and never explored other options. After we do what do, I start to leave and my neighbor has turned into Alec Baldwin. He tells me, "I think we just made a huge mistake." Then I start bawling. And that's that.
So I had to consult Dream Mood's dream dictionary this morning on line to try and put the pieces together:
Shoes
To
dream that you are not wearing any shoes, signifies that you have a lack
of confidence in yourself and low self-assurance. You may be dealing with
issues concerning your self-identity. Thus if you dream that you lose your
shoes, then it suggests that you may be searching for your identity and
finding/exploring who you are. I can see that.
Sex
To dream about sex, refers to the psychological completion and the integration of contrasting aspects of the Self. You need to be more receptive and incorporate aspects of your dream sex partner into your own character. Alternatively and a more direct interpretation of the dream, may be your libido's way of telling you that it's been too long since you have had sex. It may indicate repressed sexual desires and your needs for physical and emotional love. I'm not going without. Even if I was, macho pride wouldn't allow me to admit. So I'll go with the bit about integration and say I definitely need to incorporate top of line appliances and marble counter tops into my life.
To
dream about sex with someone other than your spouse or significant other,
suggests dissatisfaction with the physical side of your relationship. On
the other hand, it may be harmless fantasy. In such situations, you may
find that you are less inhibited sexually and you can even bring that
sense of adventure to your existing relationship. Hmm? Is it time to break out the cuffs, ball gags and gimp to live out that Pulp Fiction fantasy?
To see a celebrity in your dream, represents your beliefs and understanding about him or her. (Alec and I? We're right here. Eye to eye.) Something in you waking life has triggered these similar beliefs and feelings. It is not uncommon that your obsession with a certain celebrity may carry over onto your dream world (Watched "This Film Has Not Been Rated" yesterday, there was a clip from "The Cooler" and I was a bit taken by how handsome he looked. And he is my favorite actor on 30 Rock. They're a lot of close seconds though, like Tracy Morgan and Jack McBrayer.) Celebrities are often seen as heroes and all that is mighty. Also consider any puns within the name (I like Ballin? Nah. Bald Win? Yay! The follicles and definitely recessing on the old dome. Damned genetics.)
OVEN
To
see a red hot oven in your dream, symbolizes you will be loved by friends
and family for your devotion and unselfish nature. Alternatively, it
symbolizes the womb. You may be in anticipation or fear of having
children. Consider the phrase " a bun in the oven". I'm quite sure the boiling stomach this morning wasn't a touch of morning sickness, but the unfortunate side effects of mixing two Jack and Cokes with cheap pizza.
