Dali’s clocks, Billy Corgan, and other complete madness

I’ve been known to reveal some crazy dreams that, upon waking, I can only say to myself, “…what the hell was that?” And this past week has been no exception.

Over the weekend, I dreamed that my iPhone warped and melted… like Dali’s clocks. I kept trying to use it, but it flopped around in my hand like a water weenie. It slipped, it slided, it became useless before it was contorted into nothingness. I was upset; I had no way of contacting anyone and felt so void and helpless. Even when I awoke I went to my iMac and frantically searched to buy a new iPhone, before even realizing that I had only a nightmare. Inspection of my device needed completion before I could relax.

But last night’s… that nighttime hallucination had me appalled upon my reentering of the waking world. Somehow, I had made gluten-free brownies in a home that wasn’t mine… and they were phenomenal chocolate goodness… so much so that I could not leave them behind… but the owner of the house had returned, and I had to flee before I could take them. My determination to steal my treats was sidetracked, as I ran into an ex-boyfriend, who was determined to fake his death by hanging over the resurrected DuPage Theater in Lombard (which was showing a film called, Diana! Diana! Diana!). But my mouth was wired shut by some new teeth-straightening device, and I was unable to speak.

How was I even able to eat brownies with such a plight? I have no idea. But I was distressed, because Billy Corgan’s Ravinia show was about to happen, and even though I’ve not spoken to my ex in about 5 years, he has a child, and I needed to talk him out of his fraudulent self-destruction.

I raced on foot through my old stomping ground, and ran into Lackey (he’s over at The Nightmare Gallery), who was elated about the Billy Corgan show…

“Victoria, you have to come, now! Billy is arriving any moment–and guess what! He’s coming in… on a–SPACESHIP!”

Sigh. I can’t even begin to psycho-analyze this one. Other than the fact that I must be desperate for chocolate.

 

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