Category Archives: dream

Simply Ghastly

Standard


I had a terrible nightmare last night. I dreamed I was living in a huge, blandly 70s condo complex. But wait, there’s more, because the ceilings were exposed planks and the carpets were “textured” polyester and both were a sort of shrimp pink. Just ghastly. I think I woke sobbing.

Also, last week I had a dream where I found a baby in one of those elaborate car carrier seats in front of my house on the sidewalk and that therefore I would have to raise it and be responsible for the little snot machine. Annoyingly, I would realize that I could turn it over to Child Protective Services, but then I would forget and go back to worrying about being stuck with a brat in a car seat that didn’t match my car. I kept thinking “I don’t want a kid. I don’t want to be one of Those Gays.” Again, sobbing.
I got to stop eating doughnuts before going to bed.

Dreams of a Dreamy Dream

Standard
In our “Hell in a Handbag” post below, corespondent Debs commented “medicine for bone cancer also gives one very vivid, livid dreams….” Amazing, since the one side effect of my AIDS medicine I didn’t mention is the onset of immensely amusing dreams, totally different from my previous unconscious, very realistic with internally consistent plots and effects. Plus I can direct them at will during the dream itself. If I don’t like the way things are turning out, I’m aware of it and can re-channel the action into more pleasurable directions. I’m wild for them.
Saturday night I had one where I was a house guest at Martha Stewart’s place, along with our dear, dear chum Glenn Close. Of course, since it was Martha, the house was a beautiful series of Paladian pavilions, pretentious bitch. I couldn’t really pay the proper attention to Martha or her goddam dogs since I was terribly busy as a high fashion model in the middle of a photo shoot. I had to calm the overwrought Italian photographer by telling him “Shut up, I know what I’m doing” in flawless Italian (“Stai zitto, io so quello che sto facendo,” in case you were wondering, and thank you Google’s translation thingy.) It’s possible he was so nervous because I was wearing a gold suit with a gold tie set with gemstone. And I don’t mean it was gold colored, I mean it was gold metal, but I was able to pull it off with my best vogueing. I know what I’m doing.




Real Italian models. Not mrpeenee. I know what I’m doing.

And then last night, probably overly influenced by my own blog, I dreamed I was sexing it up with the Night is Half Gone Aries guy. We were in a beautiful room paved in sea glass tiles and I was driving him wild by sucking, gently, on his horns. The ones on his head, silly. There was a little red knob on the end of each one, like a Jujube. I was so sorry to wake up.


In other mrpeenee news, Super Agent Fred and I are winging it off to Los Angeles tomorrow for a few days in order for me to escape from the kitchen renovation. I figure if I can’t have a kitchen, I might as well do so in a nice hotel. Felix in Hollywood encourages us to come out on one of his fabulous sounding tours, overriding my puking whine about the heat. I know it’s California and whinging about the heat here is nothing to endear us to readers suffering along where the temps are serious, but I’m delicate darling. Delicate.

We certainly hope this is included on dear Felix’s tour. We would hate to ask for our money back.

Dreamy Dreams

Standard
It’s 6:50 in the morning and I’m up to write about my dream I just had.
It was set in a laundromat, the shabby kind that has mismatched equipment. Some friends and I were in this town for its film festival because they wanted to get the film they had made in the festival. Slowly, I came to realize the film their kids had put together was better and was actually going to make it and theirs wasn’t and heartache lay ahead.
Also, some cute guy was there and took all his clothes off to wash them. This really happened in a New Orleans once while I was dong my laundry and the cops took him away even though he kept protesting his pants were wet. Nothing so untoward happened in my dream so I was able to chat up the cute guy. Now that I remember it he was wearing bright blue underwear.

There was tension that one of the few working dryers was going to be available before my friends’ load had finished washing. An evil gypsy-looking guy was eyeing it. I found out another dryer that was marked Out of Order really worked if you leaned against the door to keep it closed. We told the kids that was going to be thier job and they weren’t feeling it, but isn’t that why you have children?
Because I wasn’t washing clothes and had a bunch of quarters , I was very popular. Then my friends started telling me I should only give them my quarters. I started singing You Don’t Own Me and everyone in the place joined in. Except, maybe the evil gypsy guy. Definitely the cute underwear guy


I can now fit youtube videos here in mrpeenee cause Mitzi from Clutter from the Gutter told me how. Yay for Mitzi.