The earthquake and subsequent events of the past week had made me forget this, but on Monday night, I had a very funny dream.
In the dream, my friend Michael, with whom I have re-connected with on Facebook and used to work with at Rizzoli Santa Monica, who is a stand-up comedian and a singer (though, I have neither seen him sing nor do stand-up. I can say that in real life, his shtick was more or less amusing, and in tune [I'm pretty sure he's not going to like that "more or less" but being equivocal may be my shtick, and I think he's got that by now) - anyway, in the dream, Michael had entered a talent show and was going to sing a song. The talent show was taking place somewhere in this big auditorium I've never been in, it was large, white, square, and modern. Could've been a basketball court. Anyway, Michael's getting ready to go on stage, to sing some song with a band - I have no idea what song it was, or the size of the band, or the genre of the music. I think maybe I never hear music in my dreams. I don't recall hearing anything in my dreams. Maybe I do, and I just don't remember? Whatever, I don't remember this time either. So he's about to go on, and I decide that he can't go on just him and sing. That would be boring, and totally lame, and he, and I are neither of those things (well...).
So in the dream, I go on and do some sort of nutty interpretive dance routine behind him while he sings his song.
Keep in mind: I do not dance. Not since seventh grade PE when Ms. Tuggle made us learn the all these horrible soul-killing dance moves to, I don't know, some Chaka Khan song (wearing these horrible, red polyester shorts and tube socks and this reversible red/grey shirt... who designed PE uniforms, anyway? Satanists?), have I danced in front of people (last year's Christmas party is the one exception... and all those people were drunk, including me), yet there I was, looking pretty good (in the dream), pulling all those moves only my cats and the nosy Asian neighbors have ever seen.
There's gotta be some kind of message there but I haven't figured it out yet.
Or maybe not.
The lesson to be learned from this dream is that...I should add dancers to my act. Oh wait--you meant a lesson for you...yeah, not sure about that. But if you still have the outfit, I've got a Chaka Khan greatest hits album...
ReplyDeleteOnly if I can wear the gray sweatpants under the shorts, and the socks scrunched to the ankle, and my hightop Reeboks. Ms. Tuggle will be avenged!
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