April 30 08

Last night was more fucked than usual. It was like stringing together a week’s worth of nightmares. It’s not as clear now as it was upon waking so I’ll have to reluctantly forgo many essential details but maybe you’ll get the essence of it.

First, I don’t know if you believe in astral travel but as I fell asleep I felt this force tugging and pulling at my body and I’m still too scared to do it, I try to avoid it at all means because it is not pleasant, I encounter people, places and, things which I cannot name and explain. Generally, it is not pleasant. It’s the loss of control I do not enjoy and the fear of dying while flying.

Once my body settled, I allowed myself to drift off where I found myself visiting my ex husband and we were having a pleasant conversation when we were informed that his mother was dying of a heart attack. Much of that part of the dream was spent on the highway in the dark and looking for the damn hospital but it was actually closer than we expected.  The atmosphere had a bluish tint.   We never made it inside, rather we were transported to a fast food joint movie theater with stadium style seating if you can imagine that. Seemed like it was an Arby’s. I kept switching seats but it was always the same two seats – one right above the other.

Next installment – I heard my aesthetician’s voice in the distance so I turned a corner and there she was with a Middle Eastern friend of mine who I don’t talk to anymore because he hit on me and I didn’t reciprocate and he suggested it best we not hang out. She’s also Middle Eastern and she was getting ready to wax his brows. In the background was an open coffin with a young man who appeared to be in his forties.

He looks so young, I remarked.

He died of a heart attack, she said.

Upon further inspection I realized he looked too much like a guy I dated to not be him.

Last installment -I’m stranded at a coffee bar with a bunch of strangers and the we can’t leave because the weather is vicious – perhaps a hurricane? – and we’re all assigned cleaning duties. I keep spilling coffee on the counter and no matter how hard I try to get it right I can’t stop making a mess. I’m soaking rags and then I end up having to clean the floor. It’s like the same old shit over and over. A man through the door and recruits a small gathering to follow him to another place of shelter. I get an uneasy feeling from him. They leave and I’m standing around bored so I throw off the thick sweater I’m wearing but it is stuck over my head, it won’t quite come off, it’s frustrating and suffocating but I finally get if off to reveal a sexy and strappy cotton tee. People are fawning over my physique. I go to the bathroom to take a dump when the door bursts open and it’s the man and his following and their eyes are blazing red – they all appear to be Satanic – wind rushes into the bathroom threatening to sweep me up and away.

April 29 08

Brad Pitt and I were sitting in lawn chairs at some sort of fancy social event and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other even though we knew the press could catch us at any given time. The air sizzled with a sense of the forbidden and my hand would snake across his thigh and stroke it and vice versa, or he’d brush up against my arm while staring off in the distance. It was delicious and it was wrong considering he was still married to Angelina. But I wanted to be caught, I wanted the press to see, I wanted Angeina to know. Brad finally turned to me and cupped my face in his hands. Gazing intently into my eyes, he was about to mouth “I love you” when I heard my mother’s voice cackling in the background.

She was talking smack about my brother and me and telling the world how she raised two loser children. Angry, I ran over and began challenging everything that came out of her mouth. Everything I ever felt or thought about her came rolling out like a sudden storm burst and all hell broke loose as I flung accusations in her direction. She called me a liar so I took off again, running through the grass and I never saw Brad again.

On a sidenote, every time I dream of Brad, which is often, I wake up feeling cleansed of spirit from the purity of love I feel when I’m with him. But I also feel sad.