May 2nd, 2004


Mulder, Superman, and Me

Dreamed this morning that I went to a big mansion with my friends. Inside the ghosts of previous inhabitants--college kids, mostly--warned us that if we stayed there we would die too, within a week. We began trying to leave, but the ghosts had all kinds of seductive methods at hand for getting people to stay. I got out and looked back, urging my friends to leave, but Mulder and Scully had been mesmerized by the promise of a resolution to their UST. They had the big, flower-eyed Jasmine kind of happy going on. Superman had also decided to stay because he didn't have to worry any more about secret identities, but I stared deep into his eyes from across the barrier and convinced him to come back. We ran, catching up with the others who'd escaped, and jumped into a sleigh. Superman and I were canoodling while he related details of his past, like how he'd been a giant panther. Then I asked the others if they'd mind if we flew ahead of them separately. We wanted to get home to have sex.

Later I was angsting because I was getting married and had no gift for my husband to be. It was just before the ceremony and I'd forgotten to shop. My husband had bought me a $200 quilt and was going to give it to me right after we were hitched. We got married and sat down with everyone at a reception that boasted a single box of pizza for several dozen guests. I was all sulky with guilt and ran off, at which point my father-in-law, Robert De Niro, sternly but gently reminded me that I'd made the first month's mortgage payment on our new house as a gift, so I shouldn't feel so bad.

I'm going back to bed to have sex with Superman.

those were the days

I dreamed that I was watching an old episode of The Dick Van Dyke Show, one of the earlier eps when Rob and Laura lived in a chic downtown highrise apartment and not their suburban house. And it was the ep where Rob hits himself on the head and gets amnesia, reverting back to his high-school self when he was known by his nickname, Hucky. And these two strangers bring him home because he's all woozy and confused, and to help him jog his memory they all sit around and watch a movie reel of Rob's wedding--and it's such a cool episode, because one of the guys is actually a drag queen named Mona, which is way groundbreaking for TV in those days. I decided I'd wake up and write about it in my LJ, mentioning how great those earlier eps of the show were, before it went downhill.

Then I woke up and realized I'd just dreamed it all.


I can't believe I fogot to mention the sex-with-Angel dream, which occurred right before the Dick Van Dyke dream (Dick Van Dyke in this context: so Freudian). Angel was sharing a room with my brother and we had very little privacy, but I climbed into his bed in a long flannel gown and we squirmed under the covers and got it on, but kept getting interrputed by people coming into the room. One time it was this nebbishy accountant--his presence frustrated me so much that I kicked and knocked over his box of glass animal figurines, which scattered everywhere. I felt bad and apologetically helped him tidy up. He snarked about how I'd placed the animals in the box, then I got back in bed and pounced on Angel. He gave me a bear hug and I explained in graphic detail what I wanted him to do to me. We might've done it, or we might've not. I can't remember. How much does *that* suck?

I need breakfast.