Thursday, April 08, 2004
Another Dream Another Day
I am becoming more and more nocturnal. Today I actually slept until 3:30. For some reason, I remember dreams had during the day much better than dreams had at night. This makes no sense, yet it is true. Tonight's dream... TODAY'S dream began as a distressing number of them recently have-- at the Cafe. I came in at night, either to work or just to visit, and found most of the lights turned off, the place plunged into darkness. So I ran around trying to get some lights on, only to discover that most of the lights had been moved, replaced or broken. I can easily trace this back to the fact that the overhead lights there have mysteriously stopped working. Of course, no futile dream labor can be pursued uninterrupted, and so I had to stop every now and again to help make drinks. And notice that David Cross was sitting in one of the booths. Or, as I called him, "DAVID FUCKING CROSS!"
So on top of everything else I wanted to prostrate myself before this man of great comic genius without looking like too much an ass, but instead ended up trying to pretend not to notice him. This is how I generally behave when one of the absurd number of pretty girls comes into the Cafe... maybe I have a homosexual crush on David Cross. Maybe I think of beautiful women as celebrities-- they'd probably really prefer it if I didn't fawn over them, or indeed even make myself a presence.
So I eventually headed home, which for some reason was around several corners through a neighborhood where people sat on their front porches improvising slam poetry. It seemed very familiar, most of the people I remembered from previous trips down those blocks. When I reached home there was a huge crowd of people, all there helping D. move. And I realized it was the last of the month. I hadn't started packing or rented the van or gotten people to come help or anything!
So I ran upstairs, grabbed a collapsed box, and tried to tape its bottom so I could pile books into it. The rest of the dream was taken up by this inevitably futile quest.
Are everybody's dreams so relentlessly Sysiphean as mine?
And yes I'm moving. Have I mentioned that here yet? All the people stalking me through precisely this one source now get to learn that I'm picking up from the NW neighborhood where I've been for the last three years and moving to NE. My commute to work will be twice as long, so my butt -- after half a year of bike commuting already nicer than I had ever believed possible -- should be shortly pushing into Greek God territory.
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