timepiececlock

I had a dream last night and this morning that was pretty weird. I went to a night club and in one of the back rooms there was less music and more people, and my best friend's husband was there (for some reason, the proud new owner of a 10" tall pet mermaid), and he was the only person I knew. But as I was floating around the room, I started talking to this guy who, it turns out, was Keith Olbermann of MSNBC News! And there were all other news and tv production people there, though I don't remember other names or faces

A group of us watched a commercial (or read the script for a commercial, I'm not sure) that Keith Olbermann was producing. Some generic product. For some reason my friend, who IRL is an engineer for a water management company, was fed the commercial job by Olbermann and was in charge of it as head of Art Direction. This is funny because he's an engineer. But when I saw the commercial there was a bit in it that was sexist and insulting to women. I was naturally upset about this, so I started telling my woes to the guy standing next to me--who mid-way into my rant told me he was Keith Olbermann and was producing the commercial. Mind you, he only sort of looked like Olbermann. He looked more like Olbermann at age 30, and I wasn't entirely convinced it was him. I actually pulled over my friend and point-blank asked "Can you identify the person standing beside me?"

My friend said, "Yeah, that's Keith Olbermann," and I was convinced enough for the dream. So I rambled on to him about my problems with his still-in-production commercial, and he wanted me to list them (he was very sincere), but we didn't have any paper. So he handed me his phone: a sort of hybrid that looked like an iPhone but had a keyboard like a Blackberry. He told me to type my review/thoughts onto that. I was having trouble concentrating, almost like I was drunk except I wasn't, so he left the phone with me at the table and went back to wandering around the room socializing.

I spent a while typing my opinion of the exact errors structurally and in terms of script and why the whole thing offended me, which took a while because, as I said, my head was pretty fuzzy. But eventually I was done, and I realized I had lost Keith Olbermann.

Then I realized, aloud, "I have Keith Olbermann's phone."

I had Keith Olbermann's phone! He trusted me with his actual cellphone, the sweet man. And he wanted my opinion on his commercial so it wouldn't alienate female viewers.

I didn't know what to do with the thing. I felt like I was the poor couple in The Pearl who didn't know how to profit from the treasure they had, because it was too big for them to deal with. I knew that a more exciting person, like Veronica Mars, would be snooping around in it, looking up phone numbers of famous people and matching call dates to deduce secret information. Not being a teen sleuth or espionage master, I just stood in the room full of people, in a full body freeze panic, while a voice in my head screamed, I have Keith Olbermann's phone! I HAVE KEITH OLBERMANN'S PHONE!

Such power at my fingertips! But my biggest fear was that I wouldn't be able to find him and give it back; I suppose this means my parents raised me to have better morals than Veronica Mars. Eventually I located him in the crowd and handed him the iPhone. He thanked me graciously, promised to read my comments, and went back to his conversation, while I tried to find my friend so we could go home.

I wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with overly-trusting famous people. I don't remember what happened after that.

Had a nightmare. I was trapped in a tiny, one-room motel room (with a door facing outside, at ground level), with Christopher Ecclestons' 9th Doctor and another girl who might've been a combination of two girls, a cousin and a friend, in real life. Oh, and my own little poodle Shadow, he was there too.

That wasn't the nightmare. The nightmare is that we had to barricade ourselves in because the outside world was being overrun by the zombies from 28 Days Later. Only zombie dogs tried to get in, but there were zombie people wandering around out there. All we had was a bag of junk-- a few books, two bricks, a couple rocks to throw at the zombie dogs if we should happen to have to open the door for some reason. But we had little to nothing to eat, and we were lucky only zombie dogs seem to know we were there, because you can't barricade a door well with a couple of bricks and a bed, not against a mob of fully adult zombies.

Most of the time the three of us huddled on the bed (unfortunately my cousin-friend was between me and the doctor), listening to the noise of the carnage outside and generally feeling totally overcome with abject horror about our chances of survival.

EDIT: I must say, now that I have some distance from the nightmare, I'm actually quite disappointed. Here we had an apocalyptic world-ending experience, and the Doctor was right there, and instead of fixing it we were holed up in a motel room talking about inane things and ignoring the screams and sounds of crashing stuff and ripping flesh. Why didn't he save the world, dammit?

My dream had John Kerry in it last night. My first dream with a political figure.

And get this-- in my dream he was having a very angsty but delicate but funny slashy thing going on with this other dream character who looked like a weird combination between John Edwards and my neighbor. You know... tender/friendshippy/snarky slash, the way a lot of people write Spander.

They did it (offscreen in my dream, THANK GOD) while we (including me, my parents, and some other dream-people) were all on a journey, on foot, walking through some place with a lot of corn. And low trees. Mostly corn. Really tall corn.

And we were all in jeans and wrap-around white sheets. Like home-made togas. And John Kerry and Edwards/MyNeighbor wore olive wreaths on their heads.

And the weird part is, John Kerry and Edwards/MyNeighbor weren't even in love, or homosexual. It was this bizare trust/friendshippy thing that they needed to get out of their system, and also John Kerry sort of flaunting himself to sting the feelings of this woman in our group, a dream-made person, as if to say to her "I could be going to go have tender shagging in the corn with you, but because you're not fighting for me I'm going to go have tender shagging in the corn with him instead because he's my best friend and we need to do this because we're two close male friends."

It was like reading overly-sappy slash fic. With John Kerry's really long face.

Specifically, the kind of slash fic where the characters are in no way homosexual, and they know this, but they're best friends the writer makes them go have sex in the corn anyway because best friends are so easy to slash even when they are just friends, so instead of it being normal sex like normal people have it's Angsty Friendship Sex That I Can Only Have With Another Non-Homosexual Man.

And since, again, the sex was offscreen in the corn, THANK GOD, I inferred all this stuff by their body language during the journey's group meals (we all sat down in the middle of the path in the middle of the corn) and by how obviously they went into the corn together that one day. With everybody watching them go.

Yeah... that was a weird dream.

I think it was a combination of:

• the Olympics


• my issues with people writing slash fic with characters I don't think would ever sleep together even if they were gay


• John Kerry attack-ads by the GOP


• all the touring the candidates are doing in the cornfield-ish states


• my anticipation/fear of moving out


• all the caffeine I drank last night while watching the Daily Show

So I stayed up really late last night. Like 5am. Then I got up at 7am and took my poddle to get his fur cut at this little grooming place. Then I went straight home and slept till about 1:15 pm.

At about 3pm the old lady calls from the groomers and asks if anyone's going to come pick up Shadow. I said "Uh...sure. I'll come over now. Did you call earlier to say he was done?" She said yeah. I shrugged and went to go pick him up.

While I was there I asked her if she'd left a message because there weren't any on the machine. She said, no, she talked to me.

I stared for a second and kinda blinked. "Umm. I don't think so. I don't remember any such conversation." She insists that she did. I say, "No, that's very strange. Did you call the wrong number? Because I'm the only one home and I slept for several hours right when I came home."

She said the person she talked to sounded kind of out of it, or drugged or something, and had promised to be over in an hour. Which, I guess, was like 2 hours ago. I still have absolutely NO recollection of any of this. I did not wake up for any phone calls, because if I had I would have just gotten up and come to pick him up right then.

I finally gave up and went back to my car, carrying Shadow and thinking furiously.

God, what other phone conversations have I been having while I was asleep?

It's enough to make a person kinda nervous.