What was I doing? Paperwork. I was running around the barracks chasing after everyone’s DD1172s, SGLV Form 8286s, DD2648s, etc., etc. Lovely. Spectacularly scintillating, no? Also too, camo is not a good color on me.
Two nights ago, I dreamed that I was interviewing Liam Neeson and Jack Kerouac. After the chit chat, Willem DeKooning joined us and we went off to a party happening on a tug in New York harbor. We lacked invites so had to sneak on board and climb up a ventilation shaft to join the fun on the main deck. My perpetually simmering claustrophobia was screaming.
Last night I was a secret agent at a big outdoor summer fest. Newport maybe? Seems likely as we were all in appropriately floaty, long, floral print dresses. I had to surreptitiously return to the local spy base in order to give my report but before I could get away, a new “friend” insisted I share a drink with her. We were in an old, sorta beat up white Victorian kitchen. She poured me a tumbler (!!!) of Jamo. It gleamed in the sun streaming through the window. My last thought before waking was “oh my, very tempting but perhaps it's laced with truth serum or knock out drugs.” Cue the ominous foreshadow music da-da-DUN.
Who was I spying on? What was my report about? Got me hangin’.
These are just the latest entries in my Odd Dreams Catalogue.
|Over the Town—Marc Chagall|
|The Opening of the 5th Seal—El Greco|
I’ve had other painterly dreams. In my 20s, all dream people looked like they’d been sketched by El Greco.
I used to have a lot of train dreams and NOT the train-entering-the tunnel variety. No, no, these were all Ya can’t get they-ahh from hee-yahh phantasms. I was eternally lost or in the wrong place and perennially running late.
I could discern the meaning of those. It seemed pretty clear. These new ones though? Paper pusher in an ancient Greek by way of Mars war? Interviewer of hipster artists? Hippy spy?
What do any of these dreams mean/represent? Damned if I know. They’re odd, odd, odd but entertaining. I’m fine with that.