May 2011 Archive

It’s not uncommon for those with raging hormones, like yours truly at 12 weeks gestation, to have wacked out dreams. But tonights was kind of a doozy.

First there’s a Native American gang of political terrorists out to hunt and kidnap a particular individual who has information that they need.  That person winds up being caught by the Feds and held at a courthouse.  With nothing more than a few guns and a cigar case holding tiny bottles of Mexican coca cola, they break him free.

Then there’s a blonde woman held in a baseball field being held captive and surrounded by cop cars.  For whatever reason, Wentworth Miller comes out as Michael Scoffield to rescue her.  And then disappears. Has no additional part in any dream.

Next I’m blonde at some salon that also publishes home decorating magazines and discussing a new photo shoot that I had done for some fundraiser.

I next walk through a scarf/tie shop and I hear “Just Like Heaven” by the Cure and start dancing like a dork, transform back from the blonde back into me and then trip on my purse.

I walk out around the corner and come across a gorgeous University campus like no other wtih stunning sculptures, gorgeous arched buildings, and lush gardens.  I come through this glass walkway and find Robin Williams where I tell him “Professor, I know you surely won’t remember me but I just want to say thank you.. well, to say thank you.”

Then I run into a nail salon where my best friend Rosario Dawson and I have a conversation about me dancing and tripping on my purse in the silk scarf and tie store.  I show her some powder glitter mascara and she tries it on and it looks stunning on her and then offer her a bite of chocolate eclair and she tells me.

“Oh no.  No cheap sugar has entered this body since 1998.  My only indulgence is very very expensive peanutbutter chocolates. That’s my secret”

My response.

“Huh. I always thought it was Pilates.”

This qualifies as the 2nd dream in one week that involved some sort of peanut butter and chocolate combination.  I think it’s obvious what that means.

It means I’m getting up to go eat a fucking pickle.