I dreamed I was walking up a hill in a residential neighborhood in my underwear. Somehow this didn't seem an entirely unusual thing for me to be doing, but I became increasingly concerned that I would be underdressed for my destination, so I decided to walk back to my car to get more clothes.

I had much difficulty locating my car. I'd press my key fob, hear it beeping, even see the lights flash -- and then I'd walk down the street, pressing the button, looking and listening, and seeing and hearing nothing. Eventually I located my car, which I had somehow parked *right in front of the garage door of a firehouse* -- which you can imagine is not a great place for a car to be parked, and I couldn't fathom how out of it I must have been to do that. There was a ticket for $472 stuck to the windshield, and an icepick stabbed from my throat through to my bowels when I saw it.

And THEN, somehow, I turned into a private parking garage adjacent to the firehouse when trying to move my car -- and the gate slammed shut behind me with no way for me to get back to the street. So this was a deeply unpleasant series of events and I was thinking dark things as I waited for security to descend the elevator (the garage was monitored via camera from another floor) and let me out or penalize me for trespassing or worse. But I woke up as the security guards approached.

The other night I had a dream that I was visiting a childhood friend in his apartment. (Incidentally, I noted when I awoke, the apartment in the dream was actually the home of *another* childhood friend. But the three of us did hang out there often, so I found it interesting that my subconscious brain mapped the space to this friend despite his not having lived there). He was dying -- I was initially under the impression that he'd be gone the next day -- and I was there to say my goodbyes, and I was crying and he was crying and we were telling each other we loved each other and just sadness abounded. And when I learned he actually had maybe a couple more days and was instead due to move to hospice the following morning, I pledged to visit him there and then we cried some more. I hugged him tightly -- he felt so thin and frail; I worried I might hurt him -- and then woke up just as I stepped through the door to leave. (more...)

The other night I dreamed Bacardi had gotten into my room and pooped on my floor and kind of rubbed the poop into the carpet. I didn't remember that he had passed, but I did recall that he'd gotten old and kind of not-all-there, so I didn't get mad. I just sighed, said, "It's okay, buddy," and reached to move him out of the way so I could get to cleaning up after him.

But then Bacardi jumped out of the way, darted around me and raced out of my room and down the stairs, and when I reached the foot of the stairs moments afterward I saw him running circles around the living room and dining room like he did in his prime. He responded when I called his name; he gave high fives on command; he snuggled up beside me when I lay down on the floor. When I rolled over onto my stomach and said "kisses" (incidentally not a request I made often in his lifetime, because yuck), Bacardi came around to my face and licked my nose and mouth for several moments while I rubbed his sides and back. And then I woke up smiling, and it took me a bit to remember that Bacardi is gone.

I've heard that one is supposed to avoid the touch of the dead in dreams, but fuck that. It was really nice to play with my little buddy again.

Sooo last night I had a really great version of the actor's nightmare. I was backstage in a cuddle pile that was moving in the direction of an orgy, when in the midst of a flirtatious chat with the actress nearest me it occurred to me to inquire when I was due onstage. I was under the impression that my only scene was much later in the play -- well after intermission, even -- but as I retrieved and flipped through the script it became clear to me that I appeared in far more scenes and had highlighted far more lines than I'd realized. Another actor was standing over the cuddle pile in full costume (I was not in costume; most of us in the pile were half-dressed at best) waiting for his cue; I looked up at him and asked, "When do I go on?"

He responded nervously, "You're supposed to be out there now."

For a moment I felt overtaken by a wave of anxiety -- but only for a moment. Then all of the sounds around me subsided, and I listened: the play was going on just fine without me. As I flipped through the script, I realized that I didn't know any of my lines or the blocking. I couldn't recall having attended any of the rehearsals; I didn't even know which play we were performing. I would be terrible out there and potentially mess everything up. But the show was going on without me, and the audience was laughing and applauding, and everything was fine as it was.

I turned back to the actress beside me, found her mouth with my own, and put the play out of my mind entirely.

So I took a nap and had a dream. A woman was going door-to-door in the neighborhood to urge people to vote her way on a particular ballot initiative, and she wanted to come inside to tell me more about it.

So she's inside, and we're sitting down, and she's telling me about the issue, but as her pitch gets more and more intense and she starts inching closer and closer to me it occurs to me that she's either really passionate about this issue or she's actively hitting on me. And what the heck is up with this initiative? I've never heard of it, and it's designed to protect members of the population with an above average number of limbs, and even as I listen I'm not entirely sure what that means and who that affects and seriously is this really a thing or a belated Halloween prank? (more...)