January 8th, 2004
|09:37 am - Dreams|
Last night I had two dreams. Rather odd.
Anyway, here's the deal:
In my first dream, I got a call from David Letterman:
DL: "Hi! This is Dave Letterman! I'm calling to tell you that you've won. . ."
Me: "Oh, Okay. Neat."
(I look at the TV, and sure enough, he's on the phone with me on his show, so it's not a joke.)
DL: "Well, I just wanted to let you know . . ."
(I kind of miss what else he's saying because I sort of phase out and miss what I've won.)
Me: "Oh. That's great. Um, thanks."
DL: "You don't sound too excited."
Me: "I don't get excited much."
DL: "In fact, I don't think you're excited enough at all. No shouting or screaming or anything! I'm not going to give this prize to someone who isn't excited about it. Good bye."
Me: "K. Later."
(Dave turns to his audience)
DL: "Can you believe that guy? Let's call some other random number in Ohio."
The most amusing thing is, that's probably exactly how I'd react to someone calling to give me millions of dollars. I hope that if that ever does happen, the people who call are more forgiving than Dream-Dave was.
My second dream was more odd:
I was driving up Cleveland Ave., and there was a cop car following me. At first he was about 3 cars behind me, but when they got too slow, the cop car would turn on its siren (not the lights) and make the car in front pull over so it could get by. This seemed rather rude to me, but I kind of ignored it until it got up right behind me.
I checked the rear view mirror, and I saw that there was a cop sitting in the drivers seat, but his hands were tied behind his back. To his right sat a punk kid with long hair. They followed me for a while, and this seemed to be a bit odd, so I pulled off on Cavalar St. to go find a police station. I met a Fireman, but he ignored me, so I kept going, intending to tell someone that a cop car appeared stolen.
But I woke up before I could.
Current Mood: bored
Current Music: "California Promises", -JB
I have learned that the sooner I start writing them down, the better I remember them.
No real trick to it, other than I start to repeat what happened mentally until I think I have it down. And then when writing it I remember more.
You want wierd? I dreamed last night that I was on an artist's retreat with Terry Jones, and we were cuddling while looking at an Impressionist-style painting and talking about medieval history. OK, so he's got a Medieval history show on the history channel, but... ewwwww The guy was doing Monty Python as an adult when I was *born*.
hm I just went back and analyzed this. I think it means my ideal male companion doesn't matter about age or looks, but must be really funny, creative, smart, like the things I do and want to share. Hmmm.
(Dramatic hand to forehead) Oh, my poor celtic soul, why did he have to be english? Oh wait, I chose the one Python that was Welsh...