And the list dwindles…

If you’ll inspect the post below a bit more closely, you will notice that I have in fact, been making progress on the Cillian Murphy movie marathon. Last night I watched Peacock, and was reminded of Breakfast on Pluto for the obvious reasons.

I love his flexibility when it comes to male voices and accents, but I think he might only have one ‘female’ voice — for a large portion of the film, I kept suspecting that “Emma” was really “Kitten”. >_> Although, this isn’t really something he can be faulted for … he is, afterall, not really a woman. He sure does make a pretty one though..

Anywho, I have been such a deadbeat when it comes to dream logging this summer. I haven’t stopped having dreams, although lately I have been having some sleeping problems. But, I just haven’t had time to really sit down and record them. I will fill you in on my last two dream forays, however…

SO this morning: I dreamt that I was an installation artist (of sorts – too much Cillian Murphy, most likely), and that I was setting up my latest project in our garage. It was very Judy Chicago. I had set up this long table, well…it was a table on one end and a shallow wash basin on the other. Then I had apparently invited people of varying ages to volunteer to sit at the table and socialize. At the end of the table farthest from the garage door were all of the elderly people, men on one side, women on the other. At the end that was still inside the garage were all of the younger people, young women, girls, and little children at that point

I noticed that I myself was a much more sociable, fun-loving person while I was orchestrating this whole thing. I was really making connections with the middle-aged women and the elderly. At one point, I even recall a really cliche instance on my part — clutching the eldest gentleman by the shoulders and stating ‘He’s really only as old as he feels, and he feels pretty young.’ Wtf?

Anyway, that wasn’t the weird part of this dream…The part that was weird was that all of the middle-aged to elderly people were actually seemingly real people with believable life stories, who were sitting there conversating, eating finger foods, and laughing — being alive. (lol that alone isn’t weird, I know – I needed a paragraph break, keep reading)

The volunteers at the opposite end however, were different. There were only portions of their bodies — namely busts — and I was repositioning them at will. I literally picked up the head and shoulder of a 30-year old woman, and moved her into the basin end, and she didn’t even respond to that. I nudged torsos around, and laid the young people on top of each other in aesthetically pleasing fashions, and they didn’t even seem to acknowledge that they didn’t have full bodies. I don’t even think they knew. I think they were just puppets. The older people didn’t seem to notice this either, as they carried on merrily talking, eating and laughing. They thought everything was going as planned and were thrilled to be a part of something ‘hip’ and ‘cool’.

So my question is: what the hell? Does my subconscious support the idea that people don’t fully develop until they become old? Deep down, do I really think that young people are at the mercy of whatever arbiter of taste (in this case, myself) they happen to be working for? Probably. That’s the only viable explanation I could come up with for that dream, and you know I am in the business of viable explanations >_>

Moving on to the previous night’s events – I can make this real short and sweet, because I don’t remember much of it anymore anyway. Essentially, I dreamt that my boyfriend and I were planning this massive wedding, and we had asked all of our potential guests to submit hi-res, full-length photos of themselves to us so that we could create life-size cardboard cut-outs of everyone.

Now, I didn’t catch what exactly it was we were planning to use them for before I woke up, but I have this theory that we held an outdoor, summer reception under a giant white canopy, where all of our guests arrive to find that their tables have been seated with their cardboard counterparts — and then Chris and I assure them that they can go home because they are “already here”. Whether or not that’s what actually would have happened…I will never know.


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