There is much rolling around like ball-bearings inside my head today, so bear with me. Or, alternately, stop reading!
Lately, I have been remembering my dreams in excruciating detail. A couple of my friends have related to me experiences of similar phenomenon; waking to find that the emission was so real, they weren’t sure if it had occurred or not. I imagine these are called ‘Waking Dreams’, nestling interruptively between REM and lucidness. The thing is, my waking dreams are so godawful boring that I can only really describe them as ‘beige’. They are devoid of any passion or colour, bereft of any dripping – with – detail sensual – with – surreality landscape; so empty you can hear the call to gunfight whistle in the background and watch the dried out skeletons of creative tumbleweeds creak by. This morning, for example, I dreamt I was talking about my sister Morgan to my mom. It wasn’t an exciting conversation, just one of those chit chats about family and what they’ve been up to by the by. It concluded with my saying “I’ll ask her later”, Morgan walking in to reply “Ask me what”, at which point the dream honestly and truly ‘faded to black’ and I woke up.
Another thriller has me going to Shopper’s to buy razors. That’s the extent of it, but it was enough to keep me from buying any for another day because I thought I already had.
This morning on the streetcar, I sat behind The World’s Most Boring Couple. For the purposes of this amble, I have identified them as reasonably hand-drawn facsimiles of Jeremy Sisto as Lead Man and Isla Fisher (who, besides a role in I Heart Huckabees, is probably best known for her role as Crazy Chick in the Wedding Crashers) as Lead Woman.
Scene: Evenly spaced orange rectangles of light are hanging out against their background, a rocky tunnel wall, and are filing neatly along the streetcar’s window edges; causing this juxtaposition of boring objects to masquerade as a film strip – catching the morning’s events.
Lead Man turns to Lead Woman and says: “Do you think they count all that change?”
“That woman must have put in a lot of change just now. It sounded like a lot of dimes. Do you think he counted it?” Lead Woman eyes Lead Man a minute, dimples flaring as she chews the inside of her cheek, “I don’t know,” she concludes.
“I don’t think he did. Nobody has time to count all that change,” says Lead Man, checking his watch for emphasis.
See, if I had dreamt about this I would be more intrigued. Or at least less depressed about the contents of my mind and its apparent lack of inspiration. It also reminds me of this Calvin&Hobbes strip I read once in which our Hero dreams he goes through the motions of his morning, ending with the classic toss-out-the-door by his mother, only to discover he was dreaming all along. The cruel twist of this dream is that the environment into which he is tossed in real life is dark and covered with snow – the ultimate slap in the face; the monday to Garfield’s week.
Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for now. I saw Evil Dead: The Musical on Saturday with my favourite snarky boy and I will be writing about that later.