morning after crazydreams
woke up this morning feeling pretty shit, due to an excess of beer & crazy dreams.
we'll begin our dream selection in a posh hotel in calgary, of all places (strange only in that i have my own house there, so the hotel part... well... it WAS a dream). having already packed, i opted to kill time in the lobby. as dreams have a way of doing, somehow i was running late, then, and rushed off to hail a taxi.
[there is this whole other subplot here, whereby i hail a cab that's heading the wrong way, as i'm often likely to do in real life, and as he turns around he gets stuck in mud & another cabbie pulls over to pick me up. as i get into taxi#2, the driver of taxi#1 starts SCREAMING at me: all memorably occurring in shadowy shades of soderbergh greens... i think this section has to do with my overwhelming guilt for something or other in real-life. but i digress...]
at some point here i see my english pilot mate, james, and there is some smooching involved. all very casual and normal at the time, but clearly (in conscious retrospect) makes no sense at all. i believe it was during all this kissing that i realize i've left my passport at the hotel.
of course i rush back to get it and, of course, it's still there. but much to my stomach-dropping horror, there are certain things missing: my photo & info page, my UK working visa, my australian working visa (in reality, these two visas are in consecutive passports). but more awful is the fact the guy has stapled in some phony stamps cut from OTHER people's passports and he's left behind a bunch of personal photos. so, of course, i spend the rest of the dream frantically looking for this man, devastated that i can no longer travel abroad...
fuck, i'm exhausted just thinking about it.
not being much of a dream interpreter, i can see that i get the passport theft theme from my dude who's leaving (who's crazy friend stole his travel stuff so he'd be grounded on this side of the atlantic). i get the not-being-able-to-fly-overseas bit from bailing on europe with dyl. and, well... i TOTALLY get the frantic search for some mystery guy...
hm.
no point.
we'll begin our dream selection in a posh hotel in calgary, of all places (strange only in that i have my own house there, so the hotel part... well... it WAS a dream). having already packed, i opted to kill time in the lobby. as dreams have a way of doing, somehow i was running late, then, and rushed off to hail a taxi.
[there is this whole other subplot here, whereby i hail a cab that's heading the wrong way, as i'm often likely to do in real life, and as he turns around he gets stuck in mud & another cabbie pulls over to pick me up. as i get into taxi#2, the driver of taxi#1 starts SCREAMING at me: all memorably occurring in shadowy shades of soderbergh greens... i think this section has to do with my overwhelming guilt for something or other in real-life. but i digress...]
at some point here i see my english pilot mate, james, and there is some smooching involved. all very casual and normal at the time, but clearly (in conscious retrospect) makes no sense at all. i believe it was during all this kissing that i realize i've left my passport at the hotel.
of course i rush back to get it and, of course, it's still there. but much to my stomach-dropping horror, there are certain things missing: my photo & info page, my UK working visa, my australian working visa (in reality, these two visas are in consecutive passports). but more awful is the fact the guy has stapled in some phony stamps cut from OTHER people's passports and he's left behind a bunch of personal photos. so, of course, i spend the rest of the dream frantically looking for this man, devastated that i can no longer travel abroad...
fuck, i'm exhausted just thinking about it.
not being much of a dream interpreter, i can see that i get the passport theft theme from my dude who's leaving (who's crazy friend stole his travel stuff so he'd be grounded on this side of the atlantic). i get the not-being-able-to-fly-overseas bit from bailing on europe with dyl. and, well... i TOTALLY get the frantic search for some mystery guy...
hm.
no point.
posted by walkinvisible at 6:36 AM
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