She Likes Coffee and I Like Tea

Had an INSANELY detailed and cinematic dream last night, wherein I woke up (within the dream), and, while having breakfast with one of my roommates before I had to leave for work, checked my daily lotto ticket. Not that I BUY lotto tickets in real life, but my dream self appeared to be quite keen on a daily flutter, so to speak. So I check my numbers, and…Lo! The last set of them MATCH THE WINNING NUMBERS.

Of course, in the dream I checked the numbers over. And over. And then again for good measure. And then again because it seemed like the thing to do. And as I'm checked them I'm all rather level headed about it, very "steady on now, let's not get too excited, might just be seeing things". But the numbers match. 60 million is mine for the claiming (and why 60 million? Seems a bit odd, low even by big NY State lotto standards).

So, I carry on with my day, heading out to claim my winnings, thinking of all the things I can do with 60 million, when I get a call on my cell phone. It's a mystery man who sounds ominous and familiar, but I carry on the conversation with great enthusiasm, explaining to him my good fortune. Too which he says, "yes, well, you only have 30 seconds", and hangs up.

No explanation as to WHAT I only have 30 seconds for, but camera pans in front of me, and suddenly I've turned into the Doctor. As in Doctor Who. YEA, I DON'T EVEN WATCH DOCTOR WHO, WTF? But then my dream becomes AN EPIC RACE THROUGH WHAT I'M GOING TO PRESUME WAS SUPPOSE TO BE LONDON. At one point I hop into the driver's seat of a car three people are climbing into, and after yelling my apology at them I then tell them to either get in or out (they got in); I then sped off with the stolen car across public squares, traffic circles, at one point I even drove the car down some stairs.

AND WHAT TURNED OUT TO BE THE REASON FOR MY GREAT RUSH? I had to buy a Harry Potter Gryffindor scarf, and bring it to a school that was breaking out into a riot in the school courtyard over it. I got on the scene, held the red and yellow scarf over my head like I was frickin' Moses bringing the 10 Commandments from the mountain--

And proceeded to drape the scarf around Dumbledore's shoulders. Which stopped the riot, and caused the high schoolers to break out into cheers.

CONCLUSION UPON A CAREFUL EXAMINATION OF MY SUBCONSCIOUS? MY BRAIN THINKS FANDOM IS FUCKING CRAZY.

And the Light Bulb Debacle continues! Chesterton once said a man could write extensively about the objects he found within his pockets, but that alas, the age of great epics was passed. But I think I could get a good ballad out of this light bulb nonsense though; for instance today produced this verse!:

And in that gloom of deep despair
Those 60 watts were far too bright.
40 watt bulbs could not be found;
She cursed for want of little light.

Luckily, we may be able to swing it after all with the 60W over the 40W bulbs; luckily, these reproduction bulbs are low in lumens regardless so it might be that the Powers-That-Be won’t notice…but it couldn’t be EASY, could it?

Seriously, guys. I never want to have to purchase reproduction period pieces EVER. AGAIN.

IN OTHER NEWS: I nearly ENTIRELY forgot about a play reading I got a free ticket to go see (THANK YOU WORKPLACE WHAT BE ASSOCIATED WITH NYC ARTS!! *GLOMPS!*). It’s a series of scenes from Sochocles’ Ajax and Philoctetes And before you shudder for me!: let it be known that David Strathairn of Good Night and Good Luck fame is one of the actors in the reading. Yea. It may still be all Greek to me, but I HAD TO GO.

AND…because sometimes the heavens open up and smile upon me, a poor, sinful, shameful hedonist that loves her food and beer—the theater is right around the corner from Lederhosen, a German restaurant I quite enjoy. Even though I won’t have time to go back to Brooklyn before the show, I’ve two Pratchett novels in my bag as well as my writing notebook—add Beer, sausage, and David Strathairn to the evening?

There IS a God. And even though he likes having a good laugh at my expense (Often) I think he might actually be rather fond of me after all.


EDIT: Oh, and please to be someone telling me WHY I've been having so many dreams about children...AGAIN? Seriously, since Friday days it's been the same and/or very similar dream of me running an orphanage for abandoned/abused kids, and in another one I was an aunt raising someone's baby on my own (also, in the dream I knew something god awful was going to happen to the kid as she/he grew up, but that I'd be damned if I'd let it happen without a fight). I find it disconcerting that dreams about marriage make me wake up in a cold sweat, but dreams about child-rearing don't--until I wake up and actually contemplate the implications. What does it MEAN?? That I'm afraid of commitment (...which, ok fine, I cop to that) but I don't fear responsibility?

WHAT. THE. HELL?

Again, another "falling elevator" dream. I'm really getting sick of those. Luckily, I've gotten to the point where they don't even terrify my dream self anymore...I merely force myself to "think" myself out of the fall. But they sure do piss off my dreaming self. Very, "WHAT? Again with this! Can't I just get in a dream elevator WITHOUT resulting in certain dream doom! Not fair, sir! I LIVE on the 25th floor of Water St, elevators are my LIFE, I can't AFFORD to get paranoid about them!"

But, aside from that unfortunate bit, the rest was surprisingly enjoyable. Huzzah for cracky dreams about the American Revolution!

( Washington, falling elevators (AGAIN!), and Monticello, oh my!...but 'tis a long dream, so please, skip if it bores you. I just posted it cause I didn't want to forget it. ^_^ )

In other news, I went to NYU Strawberry Festival today before work, and had far too many strawberries that tasted like GOD intended strawberries to taste. A splendid time was had by all! Tomorrow is the Newman Club picnic in Central Park, that is if the rain doesn't cancel it--come one, come all! And give me a call if you totally don't know where to meet up with us.

How is it I am still mind numbingly weary, even though I've been going to sleep around 11:30/12 pm/am this week? One night of straight sleep wherein I don't wake up at odd hours and then am reduced to watching the gorram sun rise is all I want, is that asking for too much?

Last night, instead of writing my paper on the Etruscans I ended up collapsing into bed for what I swore would be a short nap, only to wake up at 5 am to a waking nightmare. You know, those nightmares where you are awake but not quite? They've been getting increasingly common for me since last year, and they are all the same. I wake up, and am confused to find someone standing next to my bed, leering at me. Always leering. I'm talking HUGH psycho Cheshire cat grin, and usually with wonky eyes too. After a moment they dissappear and I can move again. The first one was a guy with a close cropped goatee who faded slowly, til I could only see his grin, but he was the worst because while he was leaning over me I couldn't breath. Last night it was a vaguely Asian woman with long black hair and very large cat like eyes, crouching at the side of my bed and who was gone as soon as I blinked. At this point I've gotten so used to these waking nightmares I can only muster confusion and a slight "Well, THAT looks terrifying" response.

*sigh* But that means that Sunday night/Monday morning/Monday afternoon is now dedicated to writing this fucking Etruscan paper. And I LIKE the Etruscans too, it's just I've never had a semester where I felt more like I was the unwilling passenger in Mr. Toad's autmobile *glares at Disneyworld for replacing that ride with Winnie the Pooh*. Which is odd too, considering that so far I've been getting amazing grades on my papers and what not (at least in Cultural Symbolism). Yet still, I feel like I'm barely hanging on my the seat of my trousers, and I think that's only adding to the general malaise and brain drain and ungodly sleeping patterns.

TENNESSEE HO!!!!!!! Hopefully I'll find some much needed peace back on old Rocky Top.

Day of Dreams, yo. I took a nap before I went to Newman Club and had another dream, only this one was one of this disconcerting sorts.

As you know, I live on the 25th floor, and in my dream I was trying to take the elevator down, but it was like, move in day and there was a family from Ohio waiting as well. Imagine the most touristy family visiting Manhattan EVER. That was them.

So we get on the elevator, but it's all fucked up--there are these switches where the floor buttons should be and on the other panel is a lever. This is so fucked up I try to get off but the fucking family from Ohio block my escape and the doors close. The mother then goes "oh, what does this do?" and reaches for the lever.

Of course, I yell "NO YOU STUPID CUNT!" but it's too late.

Imagine the old school elevators with the levers, where if you push forward=up, push back=down. The dorm on 7th st has an elevator like that. Well, pretty much, you have to stop the elevator manually when you get to your floor. So this elevator SHOOTS up, like, 'holy shit we're going to shoot through the ceiling a la Willy Wonka' fast, when the woman pulls the lever back.

The elevator shudders, there's an electrical sparkage, and suddenly the elevator is falling 30 floors. Only this ISN'T the Disney ride Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, and we ARE GOING TO DIE. And in my last few moments, all I can think of is all the elevator myths the Mythbusters have busted, this is a stupid way to die, I'm really going to die, and god, that fucking CUNT.

This is when I wake up.

But yea, how many can say they had a dream where they suffered death by tourist?

AAAAAAAAAND...UPDATE.

And last night, I was a civil war hooker in Lower Mahattan. O_o

As I alluded to in the last post, I had a "Snakes in my Old White Mini Van" dream, and I haven't even SEEN Snakes on a Plane yet! God damn!

( So, not only where there Snakes in my Van, but it was in South America, too...But stick around to the ending, cause the ending is the clincher. It really gives a good WTF?! feel to the whole mess... )

( And last night, there was a haughty but nice looking Prince named Steve... )


....So, the short of the long is, Antonella has been having very, VERY angry dreams lately.

DAMN, just recounting those dreams is making me angry again. Fucking Snakes. Fucking Captain Linzee. I should have smack him around in that dream, I was LINK, I could have done it too.

*HRUMPH*