February 3, 2000
It Doesn't Take Freud

 


 
I had a *fun* little dream the other night.

I dreamed that David and I were standing together in our kitchen, here in The Castle. We were doing something typically nerdy and domestic, although I'm not sure what, exactly. (Probably whipping up a cool, frothy Kava Kava shake in the blender, or putting another coat of wax on the Happy Panda Toaster.)  A couple of the Tots were standing here in the kitchen with us: probably the girls, since they were just here for a visit earlier in the week. It was crowded, and noisy, and the ugly pink stove was kicking off waves of heat and gas, like David after a Papa Murphy's Chicago Style Pizza ...

... but we were enjoying ourselves. We were all talking and laughing and goofing around together, like a family.

It was nice.

Suddenly I realized that we weren't in the Castle kitchen, after all: we were actually standing on a theater stage, behind a tall closed curtain. In other words, our whole apartment was one big, elaborate stage set!

From beyond the curtain I could hear the mutter and murmur of an audience.

"Hang on a second," I told David and the kids. "I've got to do something." And I poked my head through the curtains, where I saw a group of maybe 30 or 40 people, sitting in rows of metal folding chairs. They were all looking expectantly at me.

"Sorry, folks," I said to them. "It's intermission. I'll be back to tell you all about everything in a little while."

The audience burst into polite applause ... and then they all got up to leave. I closed the curtain again.

End of dream.  

  
self-important blurb #1 will go HERE: here we go again.

major case of *tot-withdrawal* going on this week. [i've got clean bath towels again ... but a big aching hole in my heart.]

you know the drill. i'll be back to normal in a day or two.

in the meantime ... don't forget to stop in the lobby and buy a t-shirt on your way out.



extra extra special *howdy* to:

my "houston fan," jennifer, who wrote me the best damn e-mail i have ever received in my entire life.

[good humble angel, sitting on my right shoulder: "don't post it. it would sound like bragging."]

[bad full-of-ourselves angel, sitting on my left shoulder: "who gives a fudk?! she calls your journal 'one of the most moving and enjoyable literary moments ever.' gloat, baby, gloat!"]



a year ago

here's where i'll ask a *relevant* question:
what did YOU dream about last night? [hi brucie]

if it was the "teeth falling out in your hand" dream ... i don't wanna hear about it.


amazingly profound thought of the day: "Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives." ~ Charles Fisher ~



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