Shut Up, Subconscious!

Recently, in my dream life:

I was Bjork.

I was running through a rainbow-colored airport to meet Sloan, talking on my cell phone (which was actually just my hand) with my friend Samantha. Every time I realized I was on an escalator, I would get scared, and the escalator would turn vertical, so I was hanging on to the rubber handrail for dear life. I was kicking people in the head, and they were strangely nonchalant.

My mom and I were Julie and Mamie Eisenhower, but we looked like Lady Bird and Linda Bird Johnson. Imagine the confusion.

I moved to California for six weeks to punch up a movie script. This might be because Sloan and I bumped into Buscemi and his wife yesterday, and she's going to LA for six weeks to do photography for Time Out LA.

I read a magazine interview with the fake fiancée of Benicio Del Toro, who said "Both of us loved living life just looking at the ocean, and then one day we decided to meet."

Teresa was sleeping on my pillow next to my cat Flora, and both of them were sending loving, soothing, reassuring thoughts into my head. I think this is because Teresa, like Flora, is very a warm and positive presence in my life, and not because she licks her own butt and then throws up on my pillow.

I had a one inch Weimaraner dog I kept in a ziploc bag with holes in it. It was adorable but I was worried about losing it.

Bryan was a little boy playing football, and I was his English tutor. Maybe this is because I did "I'm dating a younger guy" jokes at the Lodge night before last. Hopefully it's not because I secretly want to date elementary school boys.

What?