i dreamt some friends and i took a guided tour of a "stately home". towards the end of the tour i realized with panic and some confusion that i had left my coat somewhere. the confusion stemmed from the fact that i didn't recall taking my coat off at any point during the tour-- it was as if i was wearing it one second, and the next it was gone. i told the tour guide that i needed to backtrack and look for my coat. she said she was sorry, but the house was supposedly haunted and the ghosts wouldn't like it very much if i went poking around on my own. "fuck the ghosts! it's like a $200 coat," i replied. after some persuasion she allowed me to go off looking for it. she sent along these two dippy high school girls from the tour to help me, and a golf cart to navigate the house. i told my friends i'd catch up with them shortly, and we set off.

we went from room to room, searching through old closets, cupboards, under beds. all the while i couldn't get over the weirdness of my coat just disappearing off my back. i began to suspect foul play and supernatural forces at work. meanwhile the girls kept turning up goulish things, like momento mori, books about executions, archaic medical instruments. with each discovery they got more creeped out and scared. i tried explaining that there was nothing to be worried about; that it was just an old house and the Victorians were just really fucked-up people. but they started to cry and said the ghosts were coming to get us. i was losing patience.

one of the house staff came to tell me that there was someone here to see me. i followed them into a room where my ex-boyfriend was waiting. "what the fuck is your punk-ass doing here?" i exclaimed. "i was just wondering how you were, so i just dropped by," he said, adding that he'd done "a lot of soul-searching" and he was sorry we had such a horrible violent relationship, and he was sorry he tried to strangle me, and he wanted to be friends. i wasn't interested. finally he convinced me to just sit down next to him for a minute. "let's just talk; i want us to be cool," he said. i figured whatever. i saw no harm in just talking.

so i poured my heart out to him. "i lost my fucking coat, and i can't find my way around this goddamn house, and these two girls, they squeal like babies at their own fucking shadow, and i'm like this close to losing it." we sit in front of a roaring fireplace, he listens sympathetically for a while, but we get into a nasty swearing argument anyway, rehashing our whole doomed relationship. eventually i persuade him to calm down; i tell him i really don't need this right now, i'm so over it anyway-- and my coat is still missing. we call a truce. i ask him if he will leave me alone from this point forward, and stay out of my life forever, and he agrees. then i show him the door.

"well, rot in hell," he says amicably as he shakes my hand at the door. "fuck off and die!" i call cheerfully, smiling. "psycho cunt!" he waves goodbye as he turns away and i slam the door.

(end of transmission)

BF and i decided to embark on a worldwide backpacking adventure. we bummed around Europe for a bit before someone suggested we try India. "oh, i've never been to India, and Alanis Morissette says it's great," i replied. so we went. when we got there India was deserted. not a soul around. we couldn't find our lodgings so we ended up at a college dorm. we couldn't find the light switches. in the morning we discovered that everyone was at this competition which was sort of like a live version of Am I Hot or Not. i figured there was nothing else to do but join in and enter. i found a sink and mirror in which to do my hair and makeup but unfortunately it was right across the hall from these two snotty Indian girls' dorm room and they looked at me and talked in their language, but i knew they were saying, "look at that chick, she thinks she's so hot or something." i went "pfft!" at them and they slammed their door.

at the competition i had to wait until my name was called and then stand up on stage so the judges could look at me. they were the judges from American Idol. they made me twirl around a few times and then Simon said, "i don't know; the unibrow is just not doing it for me." dammit i thought. i should have shaved it before i left the house. but then the other guy-- what's his name-- Randy? said i had a nice body. so because he and Paula liked me i was entered for the second round. i stepped off stage and went to wait with a crowd of other people. i sat down next to this kid who was depressed because the judges dissed him because he was fat and gay. i hugged him and told him not to sweat it. finally i got tired of waiting and said, "i'm bored. this is lame. i'm ditching it." we both got up and left.

BF was waiting outside. "did you win anything?" "they didn't like my unibrow," i explained. the three of us started to walk back to the dorm. "i'm hungry, let's go to Scotland," i suggested. BF, Gay Fat Kid and i all agreed this was an excellent idea. "i think you would dig Scotland," i told Gay Fat Kid. "i'm going to get a steak pie." "i don't think we'll get to Scotland in time for dinner, so we might as well eat here," BF said.

i got all pissed, crossing my arms and walking with my head down. fuck you, Alanis Morissette, i thought. "what's wrong?" asked Gay Fat Kid. "um, it's just that i keep thinking i could be in Scotland right now, you know, where there's shit going on," i replied. "right on, man," said Gay Fat Kid and high-fived me.

(end of transmission)

» » »1 april 2003 6:38pm« « «

last night i dreamt that BF became angry with me, anally raped me and then left me for good. when i saw him later i told him that at the end of the dream, i was just wandering down the side of the road because i just didn't know where to go or what to do next, and this guy that i sort of know pulled up on a motorcycle and asked if i wanted a ride, and even though i don't ride motorcycles because they are death traps i thought "fuck it" and climbed on behind him, speeding away down a dark and ominous highway without looking back.

"oh," he replied. "i dreamt we went to Disneyland."

» » »8 march 2003 10:18am« « «
dream journal 7 march

i dreamt that a Hunter S. Thompson impersonator broke into my home. he frightened my cat, which pissed me off. i chased him into the bedroom, yelling at him, where i opened a window and demanded he go out through it. he kept stalling me and insisting i read some of his manuscripts. he said he was a far better journalist. he had notebooks full of his attempts to copy Hunter S. Thompson's signature.

he wouldn't get off my bed. "you're not Hunter. S. Thompson, you'll never be Hunter S. Thompson, you're not fit to kiss the man's ass!" i shouted. secretly, i began to find him quite attractive and wanted to fuck him, so i kept berating him, trying to heighten the sexual tension. "you suck; you're a hack; you're pathetic; you're a loser." it didn't work, and he finally left quietly, visibly dejected.

» » »28 october 2002 7:28am« « «
dream journal 28 october

i dreamt i was being chased by Al Sharpton. not sure what he was after. i think he wanted to convert me to Baptism or something. i ran into the basement of a church to hide. there i discovered a secret society of people who had also been chased by Al Sharpton at one time or another. frightened, i was prepared to kill him, but they convinced me that violence was not the answer, and that i simply had the power within me to tell him to fuck off to his face.

» » »27 october 2002 5:12pm« « «
dream journal 26 october-- no glove no love

i dreamt that i entered a contest to win a set of Jason Schwartzman's mother's dinnerware. shortly, i was notified that i had won the contest, and not only that, but Jason Schwartzman would be delivering the dishes to me personally. they gave me an address where he would be meeting me. it turned out to be a huge farmhouse in upstate New York. the door was wide open so i let myself in. i was wearing a long denim skirt with a slit front and high leather boots. (pay attention; this figures in later.)

i quickly realized that no one was around. everything had been painted white. there was a big staircase to my right and a filing cabinet. i started up the stairs but then noticed a stack of small china plates on top of the filing cabinet. assuming they were my plates i took them. i also saw a little ornate jar behind them that i thought was nice, so i took that too.

as i started down the porch steps i saw that Mr. Schwartzman had just pulled up. he was driving a black Honda Civic with the sunroof down. "i got the plates, so i'll be leaving, thank you," i said. "those aren't the plates," he replied. "i've got them here." he pointed to the backseat of the Civic.

the next thing i know, we are making out on the front seat of the Civic, door open, our legs spilling out of the side. i straddle him as we kiss passionately and he reaches into the slit of my skirt and touches me. "oh my god, you're so hot," he moans. "thanks," i say-- not sure if he means i'm sexually attractive in general, or just hot, temperature-wise, to the touch. i lick around his lips and chin. i have a deep urge to bite him. i wonder if i should ask first, or just go ahead and do it and see if he digs it. i feel his fingers fumbling with my panties and trying to get inside me. "just so you're completely aware, i don't do this without a condom," i say. he sits up and replies that he doesn't think he has one. "what a shame," i reply. he asks if we can meet later and this time he'll bring a condom. "no, i'm not a fucking booty call," i reply.

(end of transmission)

all apologies to Jason Schwartzman.

» » »3 september 2002 3:31pm« « «

i did have some crazy dreams lately, but i didn't have time to write them down like i usually do. the only one that i remember vividly started out in my apartment, and the fire department banged on my door and told us to get out immediately, the other side of the building had caught fire. so i was rushing around stuffing plastic grocery bags with things to save-- only i was trying to save the stupidest shit, like Hard Candy makeup and paperback novels. then finally the firemen burst in again and physically dragged me out of the building-- but not before i handed them a few plastic bags full of stuff to carry.

me and the rest of my neighbors are milling around in front of the building, and i'm poring over the stuff i managed to save and wondering if i got everything, and one of them picks a fight with me. over what, i can't recall clearly now. right before we come to blows the firemen come out and tell us it's ok, the fire is gone and we can return to our apartments now. and it seems that in this particular dream i was still working for Tower Records, because just then one of my old workmates drives up and says, "aren't you coming into work today? you're way late" and i reply, "dude-- my house was on fire."

» » »26 march 2002 12:39pm« « «
dream journal 26 march-- the london dream

(last night's latest episode-- in which my sister ends up stealing a bicycle)

i dreamed that my sister and i went to London together-- highly unlikely in real life, since we find it nearly impossible to share the same room for very long, much less a 747 for eight hours. when we arrived i realized that i had forgotten to bring a little "London A-Z" map that i had meant to give her, so i suggested we find a bookstore or tourist info shop first off and pick one up. she said no, she didn't think she'd be needing it.

"ok," i said, "what do you want to do?" did she want to go and look at the shops? no. should we find a record shop? an art gallery? a library? a museum? a restaurant? was she hungry? no, not interested. did she want to see Trafalgar Square? Buckingham Palace? do the big tourist thing? no, she didn't.

finally i said, "do you want to do anything of any cultural significance, this being your first trip to a foreign city and all?" no, she replied. she only wanted to go and meet her friend for a few hours, do some coke, and afterwards she would be quite happy to go home. typical of my sister. therefore, her first priority was to find a phone.

"fine," i said, rolling my eyes. "where are you supposed to meet this friend?" she said she was supposed to meet him someplace called Fish Street, EC-something. i replied, "well, i hate to burst your bubble or anything, but i seem to recall that's awfully close to St. Paul's Cathedral, so you might actually see something after all-- if only from a distance."

at this point, i just wanted to ditch her. but i knew she'd get lost and maybe worse, so i decided to at least accompany her to the the spot where she was supposed to meet this friend. "c'mon, lets take the Tube." no no no, she insisted on taking a car. that's it, i said, i'm taking the Tube. you stay here and keep your eyes peeled for any sympathetic motorists.

as i walked toward the Tube station i looked back and saw my sister fiddling with the lock on a bicycle chained to the fence. a few seconds later, she hopped on the bike and pedaled away in the opposite direction.

(end of transmission)

» » »13 march 2002 2:36pm« « «
dream journal 12 march-- the teeth dream

(my latest REM adventure, as loosely transcribed from my dream notebook entry from this morning:)

...i find myself lying on my back, legs spread while this gorgeous chick is eating me out. it feels good, but it's obvious that she's way more into it than i am at the moment-- so i look around, and realize that we must be in some sort of stark hotel room, with a single dim lamp next to the bed, lots of beige and yellow tones. the room itself seems to be round, no corners. the bed is made and we are lying on top of a thin bedspread. i'm not entirely sure who this chick is. i seem to recall she might be a friend of my cousin.

i look down at her and see that she's naked, but i have my shirt on. i stare at the curve of her back and i have a nice view of her ass, and i start to get really turned on. i lay back and go with it. suddenly i have this weird feeling in my mouth. i poke my finger at my lower bicuspids(?) on the right side, and feel that one is *very* loose. i grasp it with my thumb and index finger and just pluck it out. the tooth is all black on one side and the roots are black, as if it just rotted out of my head. wtf, i think; i brush my teeth twice a day. does flossing really make *that* big of a difference? i poke again and another tooth comes out. i wonder if this can be easily fixed. i'll probably need a dental bridge now, i think to myself. i start to get up, go to the bathroom to look in the mirror, when i glance at the digital clock by the bed-- i'm going to be late for work!

i say to the chick, "baby, i'm really digging this... but i have to go." i throw on my jeans and head for the door. i stop in the bathroom to look at my teeth. i open my mouth and see that i have rows of tiny sharp teeth coming in behind my permanent ones, like a shark's teeth. oh, it'll be alright then, i think-- doesn't look that bad.

i stumble outside to the sidewalk below, and start running as fast as i can towards work-- and see my boss walking straight toward me! i blurt out, "i know i'm late, but i'm on my way, i'm really sorry--" but she just laughs at me and says, "you're not late, today is Sunday!"

(end of transmission)

» » »26 january 2002 8:39am« « «

i dreamed i got a call at work, and was told my stepmother had died. she was at home and a ceiling fan had fallen on her head, knocked her out, and she had bled to death on the spot.

the funny thing is, in retrospect this dream is making me laugh. but at the time it was an ultra-sad, ultra-scary dream. i had to fly down and take care of her house and organize the funeral and deal with crazy relatives and it was just a depressing mess.

» » »24 january 2002 10:41am« « «

i dreamed that my friend asked me to be her bridesmaid, and for some reason-- perhaps i was feeling particularly masochistic-- i accepted. then she went out and purchased all of the bridesmaids' dresses, and they were these cool little black sequined numbers-- and i thought, right on, maybe this won't be so bad. but then the wedding took place, and everyone was wearing black, and the flowers were all black, and it was more like a funeral than anything else. no one was smiling; there seemed to be all these angry vibes penetrating everything, and it was so depressing. and when the ceremony was over and the bride and groom passed us on their way down the aisle, i just burst into tears and began to sob into my black orchid-bouquet. then all these people were coming up to me and trying to comfort me and putting their arms around me and saying things like, "oh, i know, it's just beautiful, isn't it? do you always cry at weddings?" and i couldn't seem to stop sobbing long enough to tell them that i wasn't crying because it was beautiful, i was crying because the whole thing was just so horrible.

the rest of the dream was really boring; i think i left the reception and went for a bagel or something, and spent another two hours getting involved in other inane situations-- as dreams sometimes go.

» » »19 July 2001 5:34pm« « «

last night I had a dream that I flew to London, arriving with nowhere near enough clothes (in fact, it was subsequently discovered my one carry-on bag contained one pair of socks, a black cardigan, two or three notebooks, loads of fashion magazines, and a few changes of underwear) and absolutely no idea how long I would be staying, to the great distress of the UK Customs officers.

actually, that sounds pretty typical of most of my international travel experiences.