This morning I woke up dreaming that I had written a story about a lounge singer/local celebrity in her mid-fifties. The story focused on her intense grief over a long ago divorce and her inability to make a Christmas album in July. In my dream, I felt it was a really good story, the kind of thing I don't normally write, something that has nothing to do with my life. I cannot sing, cannot entertain unless you count the one dance routine I did for a dementia clinic audience which was a mercifully distracted crew wearing paper crowns from Burger King (times were hard and props had to be obtained for free) to witness my Zelda Fitzgerald moment and despite my penchant for saying, One more time for the cheap seats, I'm not a dramatic person.
But in my dream, I felt what she felt, the acute grief, the exhaustion of performing all the time, the sadness of someone who did not feel as if the show could go on. Once a friend of mine told me, I'm sick of washing my hair. So I stopped. I felt that this was an unfortunate turn of events given the oil slick her head become in a mere week and told her that she or I could pay someone to wash it for her for the time being until she felt better. But it just goes on and on. And someone has to touch you when you have your head under all that water. She shuddered. I hadn't lived long enough to understand the burden of perpetual care, how bored you could become. But my character kept getting stuck on the line, Repeat the sounding joy in "Joy to the World." For years, it's been my favorite Christmas carol. But in the dream, it became something ominous, a warning, but of what, who can tell? It's not anywhere near Christmas.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"People around here are starting to get sick of my bullshit." David Gates
Cocktail Hour
Drinking novel suggestion: Jernigan David Gates
Benedictions and Maledictions
To start, the writer always gets the worst of it in The Sopranos, one of the many reasons I love the show. And speaking of writing, congratulations to Charles at Razored Zen (www.charlesgramlich.blogspot.com) on the publication of his new book! Check it out, dear readers! And last but not least, go Pistons, the hardest working team in the NBA. They are on a streak and now face Chicago again. It's too sad to see Big Ben in that evil Bulls get-up, but the rest is fine, hell, more than fine. Happy Monday!
13 comments:
I know what you mean about the writer getting the worst of it, Michelle. I thought I was a friend of Chirstopher Moltisanti's. The guy got really mean when he was drunk. His alcoholism was out of control. He couldn't handle it. And after all the work I'd done for him on his "Cleaver" movie! The irony is that I was working on a script for the TV show "Law and Order" when he shot me. At this point, it looks like the Sopranos for me is curtains. Thanks for your support, Michelle.
Twenty-seven more days until the last day of the Sopranos!
Go Wings!!!Beat da Sharks!!!Hasek rules!!!Czech Republic rules!!!
Thanks for the nod, Michelle. An interesting dream. I've had a few dreams where it seems like I'm somebody very different from myself, including one where I was a serial murderer writing a novel in the blood of my victims. They're a bit unsettling.
That looks like such a happy photo with you and the Grouchies there, Michelle, if you know what I mean. You're too young to be 36, if you know what I mean!
Added a University
Dropped a job
Found my path
Lost a friend
Its' still 1:30 pm. Can I rearrange it all again, level and raise anew my castles, before sundown and a new nights dream?
You bet I can!
I'm Mr. Personality(s)!
Dreamy post. Love the pic. Laughs and smiles abound in your kingdom beyond the west wind. Talk to you soon.
myCajun Queen
WaeringCrown
CakesandGrouches
FoxlyLadyD
HappyBDayagain
OMightyIsis
Shzammmmmmmm
R2C2intheD
I'd settle for any dreams at all, even ones of writing with the blood of victims *shudder*.
and in case I didn't say it on Razored Zen, Very Much congratulations on ll of your hard work coming to fruition Charles!
"one dance routine I did for a dementia clinic audience which was a mercifully distracted crew wearing paper crowns from Burger King"
I wonder if it is wrong that I would this to my list of things to do before I die.
Way to go, Charles! And way to go Michele, for sharing your dreams!
"would add this"...sheesh.
Note to self: Proofread comments.
you're there next to me
rolling over
darkness breaking with us
the veil smoldering
Just one more, without words
the early dawn
begins to burn the hills
and a haze of golden rose
for your bedroom bonfire
as we exchange bloody slivers,
gifts of broken, useless shards
of brittle hearts
either of us
trying to complete only one
because tommorow means nothing
compared to right now
desperately searching each other
in the torch of daylight
for just
one
more
anything
Quite an interesting dream, Michelle!
And Congratulations to Charles! (I hopped over to your blog, but couldn't leave a comment; don't have a Google acct. anymore.) You must be thrilled!
I've been having dreams about some guy stealing a beer truck and taking it back to a rural place for a party. The people are waiting for him, knowing he'll come through. The nightmare part of it is that when he gets there, everyone starts lifting the bins only to find returnables. I'm not to sure what to make of it.
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