Perhaps the more psychologically-inclined among you could care to comment. Just two days ago Brigitte dreamed that I left her for someone else in a not-good fashion. Of course, I didn't and never will but, hey, that's why they're called nightmares. But nightmares serve a purpose -- they put us on guard. I guess. I'm not a psychologist, but Dr. Phil IS ONE. (I have some timeshares in South Texas -- come see me sometime).
But last night's was also a horror. I was in this vast airport/hotel complex in Tokyo. I'd booked my room and checked in. Coincidentally, I had my guitar, which was not in its case. So I went through the vast hotel/airport playing it, and people were very amused.
But then I had to board my flight, but I'd forgotten my bag, and I didn't know my hotel room number.
I know, people, we've all heard the same kinds of dream-stories from others, but this was a dream-killer.
Another sweating jerk-upright nightmare. Because it was almost close to reality.
No real insight here. Just want to say that I'm continually baffled by my dreams involving D-list celebrities I don't give a damn about in waking life. The mind is a strange thing.
ReplyDeleteIt IS a strange thing. Sometimes I have a big problem with the way it works. Hopefully it doesn't involve telling me to polish my guns and thinking about how best to get the clerks at Pharmaprix post office.
ReplyDeleteThat Asian clerk . . . she really pisses me off sometimes.