Wednesday, May 11, 2005

If you could have a major film director direct your dreams, who would you choose?

Who I'd want? Not sure. I'm pretty sure who I'd not want, though.

Last night, it seems as though Luis Buñuel was in charge of things. Though I remember a bit of humor, it's the grotesqueness of things that made the greatest impression. In my dream, I got up for work to notice that my hair was in dreds. When I tried to comb it, I found that the dreds were, in fact, large worms that were tightly tangled in with the locks. I dropped the now-filled-with-crushed-nightcrawler comb to the floor in disgust, and tried calling anyone I could for help. No one was available. Headed to work with the head full of worms and tried to go about my business. I didn't want to touch my head, as I was afraid of touching the ooze from the mangled ones. Constantly nagging, though, was the thought that they were trying to get into my head, so kept checking to make sure that they'd not gotten beyond the hairline. If anyone at work noticed my new coiffure, they didn't say anything.

Made it through the day and managed to get a hold of my friend Pablo. For dinner and a bottle of wine, he went through and clipped all the worms out. Leaving this mess on the floor, we proceeded with the evening as normal.


After this first dream ended, I found myself in a different city, visiting a friend with the intent of moving in with him. Don't know what city it was, and all I knew of the person was that he'd been in my dreams before. Details? Well, I remember the building as being one of those 1970s style brick boxes with the long narrow windows and concrete slab patios. I remember it being a cool, gray day. I remember there being curtains on the large windows in the bedroom. I remember the bed being big and fluffy, having at least a featherbed and a down quilt on it. I also remember thinking, "oh, I'm going to like this."

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