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.
blurb #1 will go HERE: here we
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.
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."]
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!"]
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 ~