Good Lord. I admit to being an information junkie, to trolling the internet for the latest info on my latest obsession when I have the time, which usually I don't. But our access to information is sometimes way too much.
I just hit a link on my home page that took me to an MSN music site where I could "listen to the Donda West 911 call." So, if I wanted to, I could sit here in my home office and listen to two friends of Kanye West's mom panicking over the fact she's "cold and clammy."
Holy shit. That's horrific, even to me. That's just too intrusive to believe.
And I just woke up from a heart-pounding parade nightmare -- the old one about all the stuff I hadn't done in advance, but even worse. No banners, no car signs, and suddenly it's the night before. And my first thought was just to run away. I was getting ready to call Jess on my cell phone when the furnace came on (for real) and woke me up.After everything I went through last year, everything I accomplished, everything I kept under control (especially myself), it's unthinkable to be having a version of the old nightmare!
And now it was more detailed with more stuff going on all around, like many former court members who needed special attention.
And what about the Backstreet Boys dream I had right before that one? I was with somebody, not sure who, and we ran into AJ on this curvy mountain road. He had his sportscar hanging waaay over this ravine, because he was trying to reach something he'd dropped. And I hopped on his car and was trying to help, when the thing started to tip. And I'm screaming at him to stand at the back of the car and balance it. Then he's telling me that Brian lives just up the road, and he advised AJ how to do this. And I'm struck that AJ is smoking and has supposedly given it up.
Like anyone in their right mind would take advice from Brian! The next thing I knew I was in downtown Portland talking to Brian, giving him this heartfelt talk 'from his fans' and inviting him to ride in the parade (again, because supposedly in this dream they had done it before), and he clearly doesn't want anything to do with that, and I don't really want him to. I'm just being polite. I'm avoiding looking into his earnest eyes and noticing that he has a cigarette he's about to light! I'm stunned.
Then Charlie and I get together and agree that no wonder Kevin bailed on the group if everybody else was smoking (I guess we assumed if Brian would, they all would). We knew Kevin couldn't possibly tolerate that for more than ten or twelve years!
This is what happens when I sleep during the day. Vivid and crazy dreams.
So, the whole parade thing is obviously about the fact that even if I don't know it, I feel somewhat undersupported at the moment. I know it's stupid, because we're about to hire a fantastic events assistant after six amazing interviews last week. But at the end of the dream I was about to call Jess. And there was no assistant in sight, only Charlie. I didn't have one dream like this last year, because obviously I felt a lot more in control of things.
But the amazing detail of this dream! We were at some huge convention center launching things, including our nighttime parade, which I was totally dissing as "the most disorganized parade I'd ever seen." And of course that's just not true, but that has to come from the fact that I'm not in control of it.
I fully admit to being a control freak (which is one of the things that made me capable of directing our big celebration last year).
These former court ladies were fascinating. One was beautiful but had a brain injury where she couldn't remember how old she was or when she was on the court. So she kept asking me. And I was being very gracious, looking her in the eyes and telling her how lovely she was. And then another one wanted to sell her book. I had at least two people pestering me to sell books at the festival. (And of course we just participated in a book fair a couple weeks ago with our cookbook . . .) Speaking of selling, I needed to call the ornament lady to ask her about selling at the Chicago Sales Fair (whatever that is), and this was top of mind, even though evidently the parade was looming.
And what was that former director doing with the horsedrawn wagon that was supposed to pull past court members? I haven't even thought of him for a long time! Where the hell did he come from? I have no interpretation for this, except that the panic in the dream was a throw-back . . . and a dozen years ago this same guy was on the personnel committee and was part of the reason I didn't get my promotion that year.
Wow. My head's in a weird place.
The Backstreet thing? I can't figure that one out. Oddly enough, the only boy I didn't even think of in the dream (because I remember being sure that Nick was a chain smoker when we were doing our judgmental thing) was my old favorite, Howie. And Howie got married last week to his old girlfriend (longtime beard) Leigh. And of course I feel both happy and sorry for this fact, because I'm glad he's finally giving Leigh some security, but I just can't help believing he's in denial of what will make him happy in the long run.
But maybe I've been deluded all these year. Maybe Howie really *IS* straight, not just so conditioned in his religion and culture that he can't accept being gay. Life isn't fanfic, after all.
End of psychological ruminations.
Now back to our regular programming . . .