earlyish start

I decided to get strict with myself this morning and not put off an update. It's sleeting here, and I'm feeling sad that a comment about the weather is the thing I'm talking about right out of the gate.

I guess the most interesting thing (that I'm willing to talk about at this point within the confines of this space) I've noted lately is that my dreams have been fairly crazy lately. The dream parade seems to have hit the pavement since right after I finished a chapter of my essay book about my Stanley Kubrick dream starring Nicholas Cage (which I had quite a while ago). Lest it slip through my fingers -- because dreams are wily like that -- I must note that last night my dream involved having moved back into my first NYC apartment, part of which had been turned into a men's college dorm. I was bringing my parents there, and my mom was alive, though she had a sprained ankle. She was also an Avon lady that couldn't stop trying to sell (despite her injury). Incidentally, I was a TV reality show maven along with my sister, and went to the bar a lot and fought while eating french fries and nachos. Also, my father was Craig T. Nelson, and an avid boater. In fact, he had picked me up in his boat on the Hudson to bring me home, and was wearing heavy rain gear, since a storm had arrived. This wild sea scene was of course probably sparked by the sounds of the ice storm in real life on my skylight. Oh, and he was accompanied on his journey by Sinbad and Ice Cube and their five-year old son, who randomly took his pants off when he got scared or felt socially awkward.

Even stranger, this dream began with me somehow managing to hot air balloon (with my bike, from the shores of New York City) to Morocco, where I was greeted by characters from The Office. I'm not exactly sure what that part is about, because I haven't even been watching that much television lately.