I woke up this morning from a fevered dream to find self perpendicular to bed. In my dream, I'd been hanging out with friends at a tikibar, where I'd just been served a drink called the Sake Ono (don't ask me why I remember the name), and it was a HUGE mofo of a mushroom-shaped compote bowl that the waiter nestled between my knees (because if it was put on the table, I wouldn't be able to reach it--it was that tall). And then he brought out the appetizer platter I'd ordered and it was gigantic and overflowing as well. Sadly, I wanted none of it because it was all too much.

The last thing I remember thinking was, "Fuck, I'm sick." (Tummy probs, bland diet.)

honestly, it was a dream about having dreams.

i watched GRAND CANYON last night, which I love and haven't watched in a while, and it was at the part where Kevin Kline and his wife, Mary McDonnell, both have their own dreams which gives a window into what's going on in their lives.

and then, while i sort of forget the content of my dream, i very vividly remember that it was about dreams, and about waking up in a cold sweat from dreams, etc.

i think this was because that after watching that sequence, I kept thinking about how i don't dream nearly as much as i used to. which is kind of unfortunate, as i've always been fascinated by them.

@Garak: I hear ya! The reason why I even posted this post is because I don't often have dreams I can remember anymore. I sleep very solidly when I sleep nowadays. I think you win for the most meta dream already.

I already wrote about mine. But I was probably checking go, team just before bed...

Last night I had a dream that I was hanging out with some couple that were swingers and I was trying to get out of there so they'd stop touching me, but I didn't know the train system and ended up lost in Bentonville, Arkansas.

I was in the apartment of this guy I used to know. Not his real apartment, but a very old lovely place with peeling paint and that whole shabby sort of stateliness. I've actually been working on a story set in such an apartment...
Anyway.
The man fed me brussels sprouts, but kept calling them artichoke hearts. He'd left the gas on in the kitchen and seemed very unconcerned about it. When I went in there to remedy the matter, I immediately passed out on the floor, and that is when I woke up.

And right before bed I was watching the princess bride and feeling hungry.

last night i had an odd dream. in fact it continues a theme of dreams i have had lately that star 80s rock stars. yeah, i so do not get it either (unless it has to do with a sort of reaganomics of my mind, but i would rather not think too much on that).

but yeah, it took place in a sort of college town coffee shop/fantastic child's fort play area. in it bruce springsteen and cyndi lauper (looking like their ever so dapper 80s selves) were playing table top football. the kind where one folds up a piece of paper into a triangle and you take turns trying to flick it through each others finger tip goal posts.

i know there was a bit more to it, but i was all mouth agape in wonderment upon waking that i fear the rest of it is now left to the ether of my mind.

as for what i was thinking as i drifted off to sleep. well i am not sure, but i know i was a bit worried, well not really, i guess apprehensive about a doctors visit today and i also wondered what kids of treats awaited me at the farmers market this am.