I had strange and highly detailed dreams last night.
Before I went to bed, I watched a movie my friend Adam had recommended, called "Pianomania." It was full of beautiful music and obsessive, brilliant musicians. I really enjoyed it. I actually started watching it on my iPad (oh, yes, we got an iPad!) on Sunday, but I finished it up last night. Adam recommended it because I was thinking about piano hammers and wrote about that the other day on Facebook, and the movie shows the insides of pianos quite a bit. The master piano tuner dude in the film was kind of a superhero for pianists, wasn't he? It was a good movie.
I don't know what the movie had to do with my dreams, if anything.
It started out with me accompanying my old friend Missy to an awards ceremony. It was like the Oscars for dental hygienists. She's a dental hygienist, obviously. She was getting an award and so was getting all dressed up and her hair and makeup done. I met her there - I looked like my normal self (a little messy, a little wrinkled) but she looked like Demi Moore. Except Demi usually wears dark colors, and the last few times I've seen Missy, she's been wearing bright pink, so in my dream, she was wearing a bright pink gown with a black ribbon design all over it. I think I saw a dress like that on Tom and Lorenzo the other day but I can't find it now. She looked beautiful.
We went into the auditorium, which, now that I think about it, looked like the concert hall in Vienna where a lot of the film I watched took place, and it was packed with, I guess, lots and lots of dental hygienists. Then that was the end of that part of my dream.
Later I was riding my bike north on the bike path in the La Ballona creek, near the Culver City Library, but the water was so high that it was up to my thighs. I kept on pedaling, though. There were dudes sitting on the edge of the water, flying model airplanes.
Later still, I was leaving my mom's house in Culver City and went out to find my car, and it had been stolen.
Then I woke up late, and JP was still sleeping with Patrick, who took a shower (but I did not, and so I feel like crap), and I changed Jules' diaper and clothes (which he hated) and nursed him (which cheered him up) and got dressed and a little cleaned up (but I still like like hell) and made my coffee and left for work 40 minutes late.
And then I heard Rufus Wainwright's cover of Leonard Cohen's song "Chelsea Hotel" on my iPod (I actually was listening to it a little last night on the way home; it continued from where it left off, near the beginning): nobody should listen to Leonard Cohen first thing in the morning; even if it's Rufus' beautiful voice, the story still made me cry for some reason. I think it's the line, "and I never heard you say I need you, I don't need you." Man, Rufus made me feel that line. Thanks, dude. Anyway, I tried to alleviate that with some Concert for George, forgetting that "My Sweet Lord" has the same effect on me (but I guess it's a happier song), so I started my work day in a total weird place, mentally.
Now I am going through old files at work, seeing what I can shred to make some room for new stuff. My filing is piling up. Later I'm leaving early, because we are going to the Melvins tonight at Hollywood Forever with some friends. I need a better mood, right away. I'll go work on that.
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