Lethal Dose

I always stood by John Waters’ maxim that people saying “Guess what I dreamed last night?” was cringe-inducing. However, d.o.a.’s (dreams on antidepressants) are just beyond the beyond! So here I go. I’ll always put the latest one on top, sparing you the tedious task of reading them all again (or indicting myself when they come to take me away.)

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This is so embarrassing that I cringe to even type it, but I must get it out of my brain. I’m friends with Pam Anderson and Tommy Lee. I am at their house, which makes my friends … well, incredulous is not the word, but anyway. When they tell me they are getting remarried and start demonstrating their love for me, I burst into tears of happiness at their reunion.

I’m running thru NY’s garment district in a stretchy dress that’s far too small because the racks were so tightly packed that all I could grab was a tiny size, so I stole it and wore it with a hoodie even though it’s far too cold (and I’m far too old) to be out to be wearing such a thing. I’m on my way to play board games at friend’s house, who took pity on me and gave me a bedspread to wear. I ended up there after following the trail of a filmmaker that made a movie with Christopher Walken that even I’d never heard of, because he made “underground” films that I only know about from strange flyers pasted on telephone poles in the West Village. After awhile I end up in an industrial building on the west side in a freight elevator and I realize I shouldn’t be following this guy at all, because he probably is dangerous, so I’m going home.

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I’m resting in a Starbucks with blue velvet couches and piles of fashion magazines, after spending a long night on Tenth Avenue in some kind of time warp, going from club to club and Al Pacino is the barker for a porno theater that I have to keep passing on my way between clubs and I finally pack my stuff to leave, but it’s raining, and my car doors (which seems to be an early 70s green Ford LTD) won’t lock, and a couple tries to climb in so I have to drive away. Later, I end up in a period costume drama with Barbara Windsor and I get to wear medieval era outfits and win a prize! I’m pretty sure that Barbara (as Peggy Mitchell) and Frank Butcher were the bartenders in one of the clubs I was at earlier in the evening.

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i dreamt i was chatting with Julie London in the early 1970s. She had on heavy false eyelashes like she’d wear when she and Bobby Troup were on “TattleTales.” We discussed makeup. Then the dream shifted to a few years ago, and Julie had passed away. I told Bobby Troup that it was a good thing that the Stones recorded “Route 66″ because I’m sure he got a mint in royalties from that alone. He thanked me for being concerned and said it was nice that I was friends with Julie.

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i have a recurring dream that i’m blind. not that i’m blind all the time, but that i go blind somewhere important, like behind the wheel of a car, or walking down the red carpet (which was my dream last night.) when i got to the end of the carpet, i was in a hospital, and told them to call an eye doctor immediately. unfortunately, when he got there, all he wanted to do was have lunch w/me and the nurse and receptionist. when i told him i had gone blind while walking down the red carpet with “a contestant” he said, “wow! that’s impressive - no one knew?” i got annoyed that he didn’t care more about my condition, especially when he told me to “make an appointment.” jeesh.

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i dreamt that my father’s ex gf, candy, was sleeping on his front steps, clad in his new gf’s bathrobe. when i chided him about this, he chided me right back, saying she was “just sleeping” and “had nothing to wear.” having been exhausted by this spectacle, i went inside to sleep and put on what i thought was a clean flannel robe. sadly, it had my junkie brother’s dirty needles sticking out of it, and the dream turned into a nightmare.

you know what’s freaky about that dream? it’s all possible.

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i dreamt i was pregnant, which was a nightmare. mavis told me that i was, and we were both confused, b/c there is no way in hell i can GET pregnant. to make it worse, i somehow found out that i was pregnant by a satyr! yes, one of those little horned-devil-things. and i didn’t know how or why. or … who. when i woke up, i was in a really bad mood. i still am.

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i was walking up 8th avenue in the rain after getting out of a cab. i had driven the cab and decided to pick up a random passenger b/c me and my friend felt sorry for him, being stuck in the rain. it turned out that we worked together, and so we stopped at a deli counter to grab breakfast on the way to work. when i asked the guy behind the counter about the donuts, i told him that i wanted one but they were too fattening. he moved them away and wouldn’t let me buy one! i had to drink lemonade instead.

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I was driving a rented porsche that someone’s father had rented for me. I had to make a work related phone call and got out to use a phone booth! Even worse, I left the door open and the engine running and of course, it was stolen immediately. I was so embarrassed that I didn’t even call to report it until the next day. When I did, I got a nice lady on the phone. She told me that she would give me detailed info a minute, and to get a pencil and listen. I put the phone down and turned the volume on the TV up. Then I realized what I did. When I got back on the phone and told her, she said, “You do things like that a lot, don’t you?”

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Last night I dreamt I got on a local train instead of an express train. This train took me to “The Producers” where I was cast by Mel Brooks. Instead of Dick Shawn, L.S.D. was played by Bob Dylan! I had to sing “Love Power” with him and got a case of stage fright before I went on.

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I was let into a beautiful, greek-revival library building by two rather gay workers. Instead of books, though, the closets were filled with beautiful vintage clothes from the 1930s - all silk, ermine, and fur. However, they were crammed in so tightly I couldn’t get a single one out! All I could get my hands on was a WW2-style parachuter jumpsuit, which was stolen by tourists when I got outside.

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The Duke of Windsor wearing a Nazi uniform and opening fire on kids with a machine gun.

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Mave just blogged “Freaky Freud-y” and I had written about Merc Rx in Pisces’ tendency to cause bizarre dreams. Last night my dreams were WILD and had all of the following:

hair color
hot rollers
being upset at my hair not coming out right
pizza
two different parties
snorting a quaalude (not me!)
a drunk
a baby
larry fine
a black bra
recommending a plastic surgeon to a certain someone (while mavis laughed, because i said it exactly from female trouble: “what SHE needs is a good plastic surgeon!”)
makeup

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The Last of the Banana Pudding?

I was laying on a picnic table at night under the stars in the high desert, talking to a cleaning woman (?!) about how it was the best place in the world, and I never wanted to leave, and why did I have to? Especially when I was learning my constellations! Then I got sad, and almost cried, but went to a fried chicken place with my friend who was driving to Temecula (?) and offered me a ride. My credit card was embarrassingly declined because I forgot my PIN, and as I was trying to remember, a guy got the last of the banana pudding. Have I been possessed by Luis Bunuel, Colonel Sanders and Gene Autry? What is going on?

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