Entries Tagged 'Dream Life' ↓

Hey, I wanna conference call with Gloria Steinem while sitting in a Taco Bell.

I had a dream last night that a cat took a giant crap in my mouth.

Freuds? Any ideas?

So, I had lunch with Sam Donaldson yesterday. I sat right beside him in a booth at The Palm. He ordered tomato juice and a tomato and feta (I think) salad. He wanted lemonade, but they didn’t have it.

Why, you might ask, did I eat lunch with Sam Donaldson? It is a more than valid question, but the answer is that I don’t really know. I came to work yesterday, just like most every day, and a few minutes after the morning editorial meeting I see Sam Donaldson walk into the newsroom. He shook hands with a few of my co-workers, his voice booming and strangely soothing. He took the office of the managing editor briefly to do a telephone interview. He spoke very loudly and clearly, rarely stopping. The managing editor’s office was open and just ten feet from my desk. When he hung up from his phone interview he looked at me and said, "Don’t look at me like that. It’s a living."

Later the general manager introduced me to him before he went before the cameras to tape a new show he is doing. We spoke briefly about blogging and Dan Rather and all that, and I felt pretty lucky to have met him.

Ten minutes later I’m back at my desk when the phone rings. The GM asked if I wanted to go along with one of the assignment editors to lunch with Mr. Donaldson. I thought of my bean soup and cornbread in the stinky break room fridge and immediately said yes.

Lunch was totally surreal. We all just peppered him with questions about history and politics and media, when we got a chance to, that is. Sam Donaldson has the astounding ability to talk at great length on a wealth of subjects. This may lead you to believe he was boring or self-indulgent or annoying, but he was fascinating. Oh, the stories he told. The man confessed that he had a big mouth, and so those stories are not stories I can publish here. But it is safe to say the topics spanned from Hillary in ‘08 to the Civil War. Only occasionally would there be a lull in the conversation, but every time there was I expected him to say, "Diane…"

Before we left, after two hours of conversation, he shook my hand and said I was his "favorite blog queen." If that is not a pull quote, then I don’t know what is.

I desperately need to get out of my head and out of the insular world of weblogs. I need to hold the hand of someone who is lonely, help ease the pain of someone suffering. I need to see the raw flesh and scars of burn victims. I need to witness the mourning of someone who has lost someone they thought they couldn’t live without.

I need more than anything to teach someone to read. Or build a useful tool with my bare hands for someone without any. I need to sit for long spells and not think and not consume. I want to make someone laugh, someone who was hellbent on not cracking a smile. I want to make a little girl feel fantastically confident about something not involving how she looks.

I need to hear the cries of the hungry. I need to feed. I want to affect change.

But I’m afraid I’ll fuck it up.

For the first time in my life I had a tooth break. It is a front one on the bottom. It felt rigid and wrong in my mouth so I began to investigate with my fingers when a piece of my tooth, in the back, crumbled into my mouth.

It felt like I was on Deja Vu: The Ride. All those dozens of dreams I’ve had about my teeth crumbling out of my head and the powerless feeling that accompanied them came surging back. It was an odd place to be, living in reality the dreams you’ve long ago buried.

Luckily, the breakage is minor and not visible to anyone, evenme really. This one of those times when it would be nice to have a flip-top head. Anyway, I’m totally flossing now night and day, everyday. I like my teeth. They chew my food and hold my lips up.

I think I am going to start talking out loud to myself like people in soap operas do. In line at the post office I will say, “I hope I have not made a mistake putting all this tape on the box. I think I will have a salad for lunch. I wonder if Crescent will find out about me sleeping with Thorn on Christal’s couch where she murdered Fragile.”

I was awakened at 7 this morning by a flash of lightning so bright I thought someone was taking a picture using a flash. I went right back to sleep though and had one of the scariest dreams I’ve ever had.

I keep having these nightmares. I keep having the same fucking nightmare over and over again. It isn’t every night. At least, I don’t remember it every night. But once every couple of weeks I have a nightmare that my boyfriend is leaving. Or cheating. Or ending up in the bed with his ex-girlfriend.

[ASIDE TO THE CLASS: I’m a little bit crazy.]

Last night’s dream was one of the worst. Boyfriend and I lived in this big house and for some reason it was filled with people. It was filled up with people from our past. An older neighbor I once had was there, and my childhood preacher and most of our exes. Which was the source of my anxiety in this dream. I went into this jealous psycho rage the likes of which haven’t been seen since the boiling of the bunny. I wanted one of his ex-girlfriends out of the house immediately but I couldn’t find Boyfriend to tell him. Every time I would find him he would disappear before I could tell him I was LOSING MY FUCKING MIND, then I would look for him again, half the time being told he was with her, the other half the time finding him WITH HER.

Then they’d be gone.

When I was finally able to keep him in front of me for more than a few seconds he wouldn’t let me speak. He told me he could no longer live this way. With my insanity. He’d run into my first boyfriend I’d ever had, and he told Boyfriend how I scared him away 12 years ago with that same crazy jealousy. Boyfriend now saw that he had to break-up with me. For my own good.

And then he was gone.

Have you ever screamed in a dream? You know the kind where it happens in your head, but not in real life, so it sort of gets stuck halfway in between? Well, that is what happened. Except lots and lots of screaming.

I searched the house for him everywhere. For hours. For hours I ran through the house looking for him, to tell him that I loved him one last time, but he was nowhere. But still I searched.

Night fell. I couldn’t find him because he was sleeping. I looked in the bedrooms one by one when I saw the familiar slump of his sleeping shoulders beneath layers of quilts. And then she stepped out of the far side of the bed to use the restroom. She never looked at me. And he never woke up.

Then I did.

I woke up suddenly, breathing shallowly and quickly wondering WHAT THE FUCK just happened. I got up to pee. As I sat there the pressure of all those unscreamed screams weighed on my throat and I lost it. I cried and cried and screamed and cried. Boyfriend had left for work long ago–he wasn’t there to assure me it was okay. I’ve rarely felt as alone as I did this morning.

So I called him. And screamed and cried some more. He assured me that he would never leave just because I am a little bit crazy. And that truth be told, I’m probably a lot crazy. But that no amount of crazy would scare him away.

I feel cracked out now. You know how after a long night of Class A partying it feels like your brain turned into applesauce in the morning? That is how I feel right now.

Man. I’ve got to find a way to quit with these nightmares.

If I had all the money in the world instead of just enough, I would buy everything–EVERYTHING–at the Red Dress Shoppe.

For the bottom-heavy, like myself, a-line skirts and dresses are hard to find. Cutey, retro a-line skirts and dresses are even harder to find. Totally affordable cutey, retro a-line skirts and dresses are a gem worth sharing. Or keeping secret.

Dammit.

I’ve written Red Dress Shoppe on an envelope. One day I will start putting money in there.

Red Dress Shoppe Wishlist*
Red Flats with Keyhole and Bow - $59
Sage Floral Box Pleat Dress - $69
Pink Halter Swing w/ Black Cherries - $59
Shop Girl Dress - $85
1950’s Reproduction Polka Dot Sundress - $48
Black Cotton Eyelet Halter Swing Dress - $39
Pink w/Black Dots and Flowers Skirt - $39

*More for myself than anyone else. Although if you are feeling the urge, please feel free.

I drove to the airport yesterday afternoon even though I wasn’t going anywhere or picking anyone up. I just needed a little inspiration.

I enjoyed a $9 diet Coke and soggy turkey on rye from “The Landing,” the only eatery-type place with tables before you have to show them IDs and tickets and take off your shoes and shit. This area is as far as non-flyers can go, and I have a spectacular view of the pool of people waiting and the river of people arriving.

To me, there are few places better than an airport. I love them for the obvious reasons.

The people on their tippy-toes, peering over scores of bobbing heads, straining to see the face only they recognize. I love the man that was beside me at another table lecturing his wife on American history. He said, “George Washington was totally untrustworthy and had no respect for anybody.” I watched the pilots, heads down, bored with it all. I love being there for the girl with the amazing ass who full-body hugged her boyfriend by wrapping herself around his leg and torso and shoulder. She’d been anxiously bouncing as she waited for him to appear from the mass of people. They kissed for a long time in front of one of their mothers, then he wore her down the escalator like a pair of overalls.

A lady in a purple sweatsuit waved her bejeweled and red-painted hands in the air for almost a minute before the person she was meeting disappeared into a bathroom, never having seen her. She shouted a loud “motherfucker!” right in front of a squawking toddler who was being denied a piece of chocolate cookie time and time again.

A middle-aged couple strolled toward the baggage claim with arms interlocked, both of them wearing leis. They were loaded down with the shopping bags they’d carried on. A tanned, beefy young man in a too-tight t-shirt and do-rag nearly tripped the lady in the lei due to his frantic pacing. He’d been furiously dialing out on his cell phone, to no avail, and furrowing his brow a lot.

Minutes passed, and a bespeckled teenaged redhead greets her girlfriend with a loud smack on the ass. They hugged and chattered loudly about how they were going to get SO FUCKED UP tonight. A squat woman wearing a zebra-print scrunchie informed her husband she hasn’t been able to talk to their son yet that day, and she wasn’t sure which flight he was on. Once again, she clicked disapprovingly, he’d made another assumption.

He smiled at her tenderly, said he was sorry and that he would try to call their son in a few more minutes. Then he kissed her on her forehead, and led her somewhere else.