; Dreams

Just your basic dream journal. I will attempt to record all of my dreams here, no matter how mundane or humiliating they may be.
Keep in mind, I wake up and crawl to the computer and write these before coffee, tea or anything so yeah, they're a mess. Enjoy.

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Location: Sacramento, California, United States

Sea Monkey devotee since childhood.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Three or four dreams

Watching people do tricks in an empty swimming pool on bikes. There is one person who seems to represent our crew. I realize she is an older woman and then I become very nervous about her hurting herself. Later in same dream, or same night at least...
I'm booked to MC a show. I go to do intro someone but they start without an introduction. I'm embarrassed and I yell at my friend Scott who is apparently producing the show. I am really mad. I throw my phone and break it. Scott gets someone else to emcee. I see this and I'm furious. I shove Scott on the ground and am fixin' to kick his ass. He is much smaller than me and it feels terrible to be fighting with him.

I go to hang out with Nicole as both of her parents are dead. I believe this is the occasion of her mom's death, though in real life Mom went first and other than a quick cup of coffee than an a few unreturned voicemails when Dad died I really wasn't able to be there for her. But now, in the dream we're hanging out, having a lovely chat and checking out the old house where we'd spent many hours. In the dream the house is small, the kitchen is like a motorhome kitchen and I marvel that we all once hung out in it. Her crazy aunt shows up and she is worried about me saying that we all hung out in the kitchen, as if this could be a problem for the aunt. I sense that teh aunt is not comforting for Nicole and we go sit on the curb and talk some more. Her sister is around somewhere as well. I wake up missing Nicole and feeling sad that she is dead.

My comedy tour is booked at some gig in a village, outdoors, coliseum type setting but smaller and more rustic. We don't know what to do. We do some silly village people sing along which seems appropriate and I make bad jokes, doing the Shakespearean version of "Here I sit broken hearted."


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