|
My Profile
Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
|
9:50 a.m. - 2008-08-21
Last night's dream was stolen from yesterday's movie. It was quite a relief to know where the dream's plot came from otherwise I'd really have to wonder what my sub-conscious was trying to tell me. There were men, many men and I had to be there for each of them. Most of the action took place in a dark semi-subterranean Bavarian beer pub in a tiny touristy craft village in New England somewhere. This bucolic village with its white church and red clapboard houses snuggled into a leafy valley was somehow also cheek and jowl with a honky-tonk beach town and a rather unsavory mixed-use neighborhood in Bayonne, NJ. Hey, it was a dream anything is possible. The men: The guy who was supposed to be Mick was played by Rudy Vallee who, between impressive scowls at me for ministering to my needy man-harem, was crooning Life Is a Bowl of Cherries through his megaphone. There was a brooding Latino guy named Rico. Rico didn't want to know from pilsner, he kept shaking a bottle of Mescal at me and insisting I eat the worm for him because that's what a good woman does. Tad the crazy lawyer was crying because his blueprints kept rolling back up and if I'd married him like he'd begged me to the blueprints would stay flat. (For the record, in real life Tad dumped me and then came sloping back months later acting like he'd been gone for 2 days and we'd take right back up again. Btw, marriage had never been on the table.) A nice looking but dweeby sort had parked his bicycle in the seedy Bayonne neighborhood and was begging me to walk with him to get it, he was too scared to go there on his own. And it was my fault he'd left his bike there in the first place because I wouldn't teach him to drive a stick shift car. Cole Hauser (the actor) showed up wearing big chunky blingy diamond hoop earrings and a priest's collar with surfer shorts. Cole was very happy to see me. Apparently we'd had a thing back in college, but now he was a surfing priest who only wanted my advice about which beer he should order. The Bavarian beer pub just had too many varieties and I was an expert in beer. Those are the ones I remember most clearly, there were others though. All of them looking to me to mom them, save them, make them feel better about themselves and their life choices, and blaming me for their problems. They whined and shouted that they deserved my total attention, my money, my muscles, my expertise in beer and blueprints and Mescal worms. I had let them down, you see. I'd left them to figure out stuff on their own. And of course they'd made a mess of things. So I owed them. They insisted I owed them big time. Sheesh, ~LA
|
