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Tuesday, Dec. 03, 2002 / 8:23 p.m. ~On the Last Day~ I dreamed about David again. I wonder if he ever thinks of me, or dreams about me, when he'd rather dream of sheep. In the dream, he was being obnoxiously lazy, he hadn't done whatever it was I was expecting him to do, something involving the house we lived in, or his dogs, or something, and he came into the room, the kitchen I think, and was looking exasperated and ready for a nagging lecture, when I simply turned to look him directly in his eyes and I said, "I love you!", and I did, I was filled with it, with love for him, I could contain it no longer. I also remember a dream I had last night or the night before, and I can't say which, but it was long, and rambling, and disturbing. I was in my car, away from work on a break, or at lunch, and it was dark (odd). I was somehow expecting to control my vehicle from the back seat though, and when I came close to running aground on someone's lawn, crashing into the mailbox, I tried to move the car back to the road, reaching for the steering wheel, but it was too late, I couldn't do a thing. I ran over the mailbox, I was stuck there, and soon I heard voices, someone talking about his 350 magnum. I backed up and drove away, a hit and run of sorts, but I was lost, I could not find my way back to work. I ended up at a hotel, or motel, and got lost in there, found a room that was supposed to be mine, and later started going through suitcases filled with my mother's old clothes. But I tried to call work, I had to let them know why I was late, and that I couldn't find my way back, I was hopelessly lost. I asked at the front desk, but everyone was Spanish speaking, or something. All of a sudden it's very hazy, all but the part where I couldn't control my car and I hit the mailbox (I was driving quite fast at the time), and the part where I was finding all these cool and groovy clothes in my mom's suitcases. Lately I can't seem not to fall asleep when I recline on the sofa. As soon as my head hits that pillow, a cat or two on top of me or around me, it happens. And it doesn't seem to matter what time it is. I simply reach a point where I feel I must lie down, I must, and I do, and I'm out. I watched "The Poseidon Adventure" last night, for the one millionth time. An even million. And the part where Shelly Winters dies, looking much like a beached whale, is still gross. And all the gratuitous panty shots of Stella Stevens are still gratuitous, and now Gene Hackman's acting seems really bad, really over the top, but Ernest Borgnine was incredibly hunky as he was climinbing up the ladder - could it have been a body double? What a schlocky movie, really. Why is it I love it so much? And why is it I can never remember which ones die, or how? Until I see it. Oh, that's right, she falls off the catwalk! No more panty shots. I also watched the Oscar winning documentary "Into the Arms of Strangers", but could not figure why it was considered Oscar worthy. Because interviews were conducted with people who really should probably be dead? Because it's a really intense subject? The "kindertransport", the program installed during the reign of Hitler and Nazi Germany to transport Jewish children to neighboring countries, and England, yes, it was amazing, yes, it's horrific to imagine what happened, all of it, but archival film footage mixed with interviews, I don't know, I fell asleep before it was over. And I kept thinking, How is this going to end? And how is it the organizer of the "kindertransport" appears younger than any of the surviving 'children'??? He must've been at least 25 to 30 back then, right? He looks in his 50s in the filmed interviews. Scratching my head, much. I think there was something else I tuned to later, or something I tuned away from. I've been on this quest to find good movies to watch on this digital cable for which I pay a small fortune every month. But it seems every single movie is one I've seen, or one I've never wanted to see. So I can watch this or that movie, again, or try to finish up the tape of "GL"s. Speaking of which, I actually taped "Guiding Light" today! It wasn't hard to figure out how to do it at all, and it turned out pretty good. The quality I mean. My bank is doing this big merger thing with another bank and they sent me two letters telling me I have to move my safe deposit box, so finally I went, today, 20 minutes before closing (as it was really hard to extricate myself from dreams, and spooning with Gladys this afternoon), and didn't move my box, but emptied it, closed it out, after nearly 20 years of banking there. Of having my safe deposit box there, anyway. I explained I now live nowhere near there, and just want to move it altogether, no problem. But it occurred to me on my way back home that the woman never even asked for my identification. I simply showed her my most recent statement for the box, the notice I've received recently, and my keys. I could've been anyone. It's all photo negatives, my birth certificate, the title for my car, old foreign money that my mother had stuffed in little changepurses. And the earrings I had in my ears in the picture over there on the wall, when I was but an infant, an infant female born in another country, a country where they pierce the ears of infant females. Teeny, tiny, little bitty earrings. Gold hoops. So cute. And my favorite color slides. In pages. It's all just in a big bag now, the bag I got when I bought my tshirt at the Rolling Stones concert, my Rolling Stones 40 Licks bag. Filled with stuff that needs to go into another safe deposit box, I guess. I worry about fires, you know, living in an apartment building, especially this time of year, turning cold, Christmas trees not yet dried out, but soon, children just learning to play with lighters and matches, the usual. I keep thinking how ironic it would be if this building burned down now, while I have all my photo negatives here instead of at the bank, all safe and sound. I'm hoping I get a box at one of the bank branches near here. That's what I'm hoping anyway. Any more rambling necessary? Mmmmm.... not sure. This has been a good vacation. I feel rested, really. I don't even care that I didn't do this or that or the other thing. Really. It was so great not to have to do anything, not to have to go anywhere, to only leave my apartment twice, or three times if you include meeting the bike lady and paying the rent on Sunday night. It's been great, I'll miss it. The cats will miss me, no doubt. And it's great to be watching my soap again. It seems trivial, I'm sure, but it's a constant, and in a world of change..... well, you know. I'm crampy and really tired, just enervated. I almost watched "The Grinch...", but it's on every night this week, so maybe tomorrow. I mean, it was on, but I was in here. "Felicity" was good tonight, but it's good every night. It was the episode where Megan and Sean finally hook up, and they're perfect for each other, but neither knew it, nor expected it. Javier married his lover, Samuel, and Felicity was 'best man'. Felicity and Ben finally had sex, although I have no idea how they didn't before, with all that making out, in bed, she in tank top, he in nothing. Really, how? Ah, but he's off to California for the Summer, and she stays in NYC, for an internship with the curator of 'the museum'. And she's alone, in NYC, missing Ben, and I felt her loneliness. Yes, it's TV, I know, I feel stupid as I write how emotional it makes me feel, but it's a well written, acted, etc., show, it always was, and it seems like it ended a lot longer ago than just last May. I'm glad it's in syndication. And, and, and, I still say it's the best lit show in all of TV history, except maybe, maybe "Thirtysomething". I'm not kidding, Rembrandt lighting in nearly every scene. If you've studied photography you know what I'm talking about, and if not, well, whatever, I have, and I know what I'm talking about. Blah. I'm boring. I'm emotional today, and drained. I hope I don't dream at all tonight. Maybe I'll pop a Valerian or two before bed, although that didn't work last time I was trying to curb my dreaming. Maybe Kava? "24" is on soon, more good TV. Time to meld with my sofa some more, but I must remember not to lie down. Cost of the War in Iraq
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