Despite everything that happened yesterday, I didn’t dream about Sunny, which tells me she’s in a place of peace. Meanwhile, I had one of THE weirdest dreams I’ve had in a while, & that’s saying something.
It started with me just hanging out with a friend of mine I haven’t seen in a while. We were in one of those little hole-in-the-wall restaurant/coffee shops where one wall is a chalkboard w/ that day’s menu. It was positively Beckian in proportion. Friend & I were talking casually, but it was awkward. In a good way. We didn’t need to say the things that were apparent. It was mostly BS about the issues of the day, & we were comfortable & happy. I also know I’m missing a crucial piece of dialogue. I was hoping by writing it down, it would come out. No dice.
Things then got very odd. I went back to my loft apartment, which was awesome & does not exist in real life. Instead of my actual sister, there was this tiz-wad who in the dream was my sister. My sister has not been annoying or shrill since she was 4 years old. This dream “sister” was 800 kinds of shut-the-fuck-up. And she shared the loft with me.
She was freaking out because she was inviting her new boyfriend over for the first time. I helped her tidy the place, then the guy popped by. He was amiable & affable & other words beginning with A. He looked a lot like the guy who played the robot boy in that one 80s film. So…not hot.
My fake dream sister saw that the two of us got along swimmingly & were joking immediately & got screamy jealous. She accused me, in front of him, of trying to gank her man. He took her flailing arms & calmed her. “KellieJane isn’t interested in me, sweetheart. She has someone else in love with her. Someone who loves her very much. She doesn’t need me.”
In the dream, I was single. Just like real life.
Upon that last line, there was a dissolve (yes, my dreams have camera directions & cuts) & I was backstage at what appeared to be a mash-up musical of “Sweeney Todd” & “HMS Pinafore” & “Oliver!” Yeah, I know. It was a hot mess. I was not in that production, but the friend from the first part was. It was several years later. He was grey & wearing a Victorian-era sea captain’s garb. I was inexplicably in overalls, carrying buckets of paint. He yelled to me as I went by. “Hey, kid!” (Men have always called me kid. I’ve no idea why.) I turned around. “Hey, you! Lookin’ grizzled!”
We had a conversation about the production. It was opening night, & things weren’t even done yet. We talked about how Ian McKellen was brilliant but crotchety (I hope this means he’ll still be around in 20 years!). We talked about the probability of all the sawdust being removed before opening curtain. We made fun of some divas. He was quiet & sorta sad for a minute, then said “I love ya, kid!” and I cheerfully said “I know. Break a leg.” And I turned and walked away…
…into a wipe. Pan across a giant iron gate in a dark, decaying land. There is a high, blackened stone wall & two letters were welded into the spiked gate: “SS”. I shit you not. It was *that* bad of a World War 2 sci-fi action musical. Oh yes.
In the dream I was aware I was starring in a film. I was dressed like freakin’ Sailor Moon. I did some kind of anime/Kung Fu movie flip over the wall & hid behind a pillar. There was a cast of like a thousand Nazis doing Rockette-esque kicks while singing “The Nazi party is always a party/It’s the party that never e-eh-ends!” [OMG it’s so much worse than “Springtime For Hitler”].
As the Nazis (sequined Nazis) do their number around this large reflecting pool (hello Ziegfeld!), I snuck around into a pogrom full of poor & destitute, miserable people. I start leading them out & to safety when the Nazis discover us & light the homes & shops on fire. What follows is a truly insulting action sequence where I kick all their asses John Wu style while the Chemical Brothers or The Propellerheads plays loudly on amongst a ton of foley. By film standards it was pandering & insipid. It was also kind of awesome. I got the people to safety. Another fade…
My mum, my actual sister (though she’s always 11 to me), my brother, & my fluffy liberal cat Persephone are on a plane. We are flying to Japan. We stay at a 5 star exclusive hotel on the ocean (I know, I know). I am staying by myself in the penthouse as I’m expected to do interviews there following the success of my truly awful Nazi sci-fi musical action film. My family is staying one below. As we rode up on the elevator together, my mum said “Oh lah ti dah, Miss Movie Star.” Then she was pissed off that it let me off at my floor first, even though I was the highest up. “Stupid bloody backwards country,” she snipped.
The concierge has placed Persephone on the balcony of my suite for some reason. I do a little bungee jumping off the balcony to the entertainment of delighted diners below (this would NEVER happen in real life) & I pop back in & enter the room. It is freaking amazing. There are four types of baths, & each sink & bath has fully stocked top end grooming products AND a featured bottle of booze to go with each experience. There are TWO recording booths, a Tinkerbell guitar, and total bliss…NO tellies. I’m on my cell with the friend. “Dude, you should come out. This place is freaking amazing.” He says he might if he can swing it. I call another male friend, who can’t make it but thinks it sounds rad. I call Kinsey Schofield, who says “Oh my freakin’ God. I will be there as soon as is magically possible.”
I then entered another bathroom & this was one that hadn’t been cleaned. It was clear the prior occupant had been eating Indian food in there & also had explosive diarrhea. I was about to call housekeeping when, of course, I woke up.
So. That was lovely.