Weird Dream

Last night I dreamed I was watching a movie. It was a romantic comedy, the male lead was John Cusack, and the film was titled "Children of Kim Jung-Il."

Sometimes I worry about me.

John Cusack can be explained by my having recently watched "Grosse Pointe Blank."
I briefly considered watching "Children of Men" last night, but didn't. But that probably accounts for the first part of the title.
Where Kim Jung-Il fits in I do not know.

It seemed like a funny movie. The female lead (I don't know her name, but I think maybe it was the woman who stars in "Big Bang Theory.") was Kim Jung-Il's daughter, and she kept saying 'but that doesn't make me a bad person."

The plot details are fuzzy, but I seem to recall the usual devices; identities mistaken and dialogue partially overheard and subsequently taken out of context.

My dream night before last was apparently punishment for my ‘Bah, Halloween’ comments. It was not a nightmare, by any means, but it sure turned out to be a disappointment.

It was a duel-topic dream, the topics being haunted houses and creative writing.

The dream began with a hackneyed, Scooby Doo/Ghost Hunters/Blair Witch scenario in which I attempted to spend the night in a haunted house. Then I was in some sort of creative writing class discussing my short story about people spending a night in a haunted house. Then I was back in the haunted house. Then I was in the classroom again. And so on.

It occurred to me (in the dream) that I could apply this vividly imagined haunted house to my story. I was switching back and forth between the haunted house and the classroom, and at each stop in the classroom
I feverishly wrote all the details of the ghost story I could remember, and I was really on a roll.

It fleshed out into a fantastic story with what I thought were lots of cool details. The house was tiny and clapboard - the former home of Poe, at one point, and then I think it became the home of some heinous criminal- but preserved in the middle of an otherwise modern neighborhood. I came up with what seemed a plausible reason I and two other people (both hot chicks, of course) would be investigating this haunting, and also with some sort of very sinister plot that would be foiled by me.

Anyway, when I woke up I thought ‘yeah, that was a cool story.’ But when I tried to piece together the details I realized there were very few, and that it was really, really stupid. I thought I developed a neat, highly-detailed plot while sleeping, but it was mostly just gibberish. Shucks.

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I finished “The Wordy Shipmates” the other night. It was so-so. I was a little disappointed.
Thanks to three recent bookstore excursions, I now have a small pile of attractive books to tackle over the next month or so. It’s a good mix of weighty stuff and escapism.

I’ll probably be reading quite a lot. Colder weather and earlier sunsets lead to more reading, plus I’ve finally made up my mind to rest my aching knee. I believe I’m just suffering from tendonitis, but it got worse and worse as softball season went on. By the end of the season it was impossible to ignore.

I’m fairly sure I just need to take it easy. After the season ended, and a couple of times since then, I’ve noticed that 3 or so days without strenuous use makes it feel a lot better. But then I keep aggravating it again. This time I’m going to go 3 or 4 weeks and I expect significant improvement.

The WORST Kind of Dream

This seems to happen to me 5 or 6 times a year, and I always hate it. A lot.

I dreamt I overslept. In my dream I woke up, snug and comfortable and lazing in bed, then suddenly recognized the bright daylight. I looked at the clock and saw that it was 9:30 already and I was very late for work. I jumped out of bed and rushed around to get ready, and nothing was going right.
As tends to happen in dreams, things were out of order...I was in the car rushing, then I was back turning off the shower and realizing I had no towel- my towels weren't all in the hamper or closet, they were non-existent. I cursed, then resorted to drying with a tee shirt. Then I was rushing out the door and back to the car again.
Then I woke up- for real- and checked my alarm clock. That happens a lot, and sometimes it can be a really nice feeling because I see I have an hour left to sleep. Few things are better.
This morning when I looked, though, it was 5:58. There wasn't a lot I could do with those 2 minutes.