Monday, September 21, 2015

Dream Log: Still More Movie Stars

What is it lately with my subconscious and movie stars? In the first of 2 dreams last night, I found myself facing a large roomful of women seated in rows of chairs. The gathering felt like it had something to do with show business, although it was not being televised, so everyone was wearing normal clothes instead of haute couture. Still, even though I had wound up at the front of the room by mistake, it seemed that people were looking at me expectantly. So I improvised what I hoped were some witty remarks. To my relief, my little improvised routine seemed to go over well. I was very tired when I finished, and I saw an empty chair at one end of the front row, and, hoping that it was not being saved for someone, I hurried over to it and sat down with a groan.

I wasn't injured. I was groaning merely because I am 54 years old. However, the sound was apparently alarming to some people, who assumed I might be injured. A very tall and athletic-looking woman -- she looked like a professional basketball player -- hurried over and began to vigourously massage me and to call out instructions to others. I felt that the concern and the massage were unnecessary, but it was very pleasant, and so, feeling a little guilty about allowing others to assume that I was unwell, I didn't say anything and just let it happen. Heeding the tall woman's orders, some people had carried a table over to where I was and put a blanket on it. I was laid face-up on the blanket, where the tall woman massaged my neck and shoulders, while two other women massaged my arms and torso and two others massaged my legs. It all felt very, very good.

My improvised remarks in front of the group had gone over so well that -- combined, perhaps, with misplaced sympathy over an injury I had not sustained? -- NBC offered me the leading role in a sitcom, along with positions as a writer and producer. The show was put in the Thursday 8PM slot.

Not long after this I was in a large house with several gay men who were mutual friends of Kristen Bell's and mine. Kristen and I had not met before this. Some of the men and I were in the top floor of the house, while just above us, audible but unseen for the moment, were another one of the men, and Kristen. Kristen had injured her tailbone and was crying out in pain. Then she heard that I was here, and she looked down through that square hole in the top-floor ceiling and attic-floor which is the usual way you get from a top floor to an attic, and gave me a big smile and said hello. I said I was sorry about her tailbone and asked if there was anything I could do. "Anything. Anything at all," I said repeatedly. She was being very friendly, and I had decided to be very friendly back, and "go for it," as the kids say these days.

Fortunately, Kristen's injury seemed not be severe, and fairly soon it appeared that she was no longer in pain. But, in playful response to my inquiries about what I could do for her, she came down to the top floor where I was, and picked up a magazine with two drawings on the cover. On the left was a black-on-white drawing of a cat. This was the logo of my sitcom. On the right was a drawing of a cat with vivid orange-and-black fur, and Gloria Steinem's face. This drawing indicated a half-hour special about Gloria Steinem which was going to air on NBC at 8:30 on an upcoming Thursday, immediately after my show. Clearly not actually expecting that I could do anything about it, Kirsten asked me if there was any way that the 2 shows could be flipped. They were only giving Steinem a half-hour, and at 8:30 the special devoted to her might get less viewers than if it were to air at 8PM.

"Going for it," I immediately took out my phone, called the highest-ranked person I knew at NBC and asked her if the shows could be flipped. As I expected, my big-shot network contact was not optimistic about this. Nevertheless, I persisted for a while before hanging up.

Then Kristen and I had lots and lots of sex. I'll spare you the filthy details. That was the end of the 1st dream.

In the second dream there was a lot of hugging and some kissing, but no sex, and everyone stayed fully-dressed the whole time. In fact, we wore sweaters or light jackets the whole time, because it was rather chilly. The hugging and kissing didn't feel intensely sexual, but it was much more emotionally intense for me than all of the sex in the first dream.

It started out in a place with a white floor and white walls and white plastic seats fastened to the floor, like an airport terminal or a laundromat. I was sitting on a white bench with a woman and we were hugging. But after a while I left this woman and started hugging another one. I didn't recognize this 2nd woman. In the dream it didn't seem as if I had ever seen her before. But after I woke up I realized that she looked exactly like Chloë Grace Moretz. Chloë Grace Moretz is just barely 18 years old. 1/3 my age. Yeah. In the first dream, Kirsten Bell had been Kirsten Bell the movie star. In this 2nd dream, this young women who looked like Chloë Grace Moretz did not appear to be rich or famous or an actress.

She had a lot of friends, though, and in between hugging sessions with me she talked to a lot of different people. I don't know whether or not in real life these days there's some way that a person can color their hair in just a moment without a lot of mess or dangerous chemicals. In this dream there was, and -- I'll just call her Chloë for the sake of convenience, although I don't remember what her name was in the dream -- Chloë took a moment now and then to change the color of her hair.

After spending some time in the white-plastic environment, we moved to a huge party or gathering of some sort, crowded with people and with some animals too, including some very large bears and a full-grown male lion. Chloë spent a lot of time hugging and petting these large beasts. After she was done with the lion I petted its mane for just a moment. But I didn't feel good about the lion and bears being there. I was afraid that someone might get injured or killed at any moment. (Perhaps these animals symbolized a subconscious anxiety that Chloë's father might be much younger and in much better shape than I, and might suddenly appear and kill me? -- Well, okay, it's not so much a fear of being physically overpowered. I'm old but I'm spry. I think it's more guilt than fear, because it seems to me that the father of an 18-year-old woman might be very justifiably annoyed and suspicious if he found some 54-year-old man hugging his daughter a lot. Even a spry 54-year-old.)

I very quickly developed very strong feelings for Chloë. Standing a little ways away with some of her very many friends, she apparently read something in my expression, and asked me what was wrong. I told her that I liked her a lot, but that I wasn't completely sure about her feelings toward me, and I didn't want to take up a lot of her time, if she preferred to spend it socializing with others. She hurried over to me and hugged me and held me very tight and said, "Take up a lot of my time."

And then I woke up.

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