Michael writes:
Steve Vai came to me in a dream last summer with an important
metaphysical lesson.
I was attending his guitar masterclass. Somehow he lapsed into the
topic of global politics and social issues with a very heart-oriented
world view. This became his main focus while some of the students in
the class noodled on their guitars. I sat with my guitar and was
engaged by what he was saying. Continue reading
Sharon dreamt on 3-3-09:
The setting is an amusement park, but without rides. There were actors portraying celebrities that would never admit that they weren’t the people they were pretending to be. Not really a Renaissance Festival vibe, as fun and wit were not in the air. Visitors to the park were led through a series of oddly shaped “rooms,” each with its own group of “celebrities” acting out a scene. Some of the scenes involved park visitors but others did not. There were confrontations, but they didn’t seem like a big deal, unless they were happening to me. Continue reading
Filed under: Dreams | Tags: anxiety, celebrities, despair, food, kitchen, performing
Rachel writes:
I’m competing on Top Chef at the Guthrie. We’re catering a small dinner party in Tony Kushner’s honor and we have to make three courses and a dessert. I had just finished plating my appetizer when one of the chefs heads out with a big tray. It turns out that we have to bring our appetizers out ourselves, and I can’t carry all my plates. Everyone else is scrambling, and by the time I get over there, the only plate left is a tiny Tupperware container that won’t fit all my garnishes. So I grab what parts of the appetizers I can and cram them on there and run out. I make it out to the main floor, but when I look down, the egg roll things I made had somehow burned on their way out of the kitchen. Continue reading
paul newman tells me to “simmer down, now, just simmer down” when i lose my temper at a church potluck
i’m washing bob dylan’s feet in a modern white malibu-type home as david bowie croons “blue blue electric blue- that’s the color of my room”
i’m in an insane asylum (grey and creepy) with courtney love. she tells me “it was food poisoning- kurt died of food poisoning”
This was sent to a friend of the blog by one of her friends, I contacted the original dreamer and he was kind enough to let us put this up.
I had this terrifying dream last night. Humans were being held captive in these crazy cells as far as the eye can see, bright colors everything toxic, water and sludge, i escaped, and was trying to free the women in your family. lots of chasing, sharp blades and blunt red objects. and the funniest part is A-rod, this famous baseball player who is being charged with using steroids was the leader in charge of the army that was hunting me down.
Rachel writes:
I had just arrived in an airport in South Korea. I was talking to someone on the escalator about how everything here is made of paper pulp – hotel sheets, hairbrushes, even the walls of some of the buildings. It’s the new plastic, I remark. Then, I’m met by George Takei, who was coming to pick me up, and he hands me an enormous bouquet of parsley. He decides it’s time for pictures, so he passes off his camera and begins striking wacky poses behind me, as I brandish my parsley in confusion. It takes me a while to get into it, but eventually I decide it’s fun to make faces with George Takei, and as each picture is snapped, the “screen” of the dream goes white and I can see the photograph that was taken, like a cheesy photo booth montage from the makeover scene of some high school movie. Continue reading
Gina dreamt this while sleeping in a hospital waiting room:
Seated in a room of hard high-back wooden chairs placed against three walls – one next to the other – with one chair front and center. Hanging above each chair is its own private noose which can be lowered or raised and which can move forward or backward by a mechanism on the wall in the front of the room.
Light bulbs, and not fluorescent lights, make the room seem smaller – but it could also be that my vision is limited, for I am seated in the chair that is front and center.
I don’t know why I am there, just that I seem to understand something quite deeply. (Perhaps I am relying on fate, believing in fate, accepting whatever fate offers me, I am not sure which, perhaps all three). Continue reading
I have had very few dreams in the last fifteen years, at least that I remembered. . until last night when I was visited in a hospital room by The Edge and Adam Clayton. Bono ( A Dali-esque figure of today, perhaps) was no where to be seen. (Typical) The two of them were generally encouraging; joking in their Dublin anarchic humor. As usual , they spoke under the breath, but just to me. There was no one else in the room, As if they appeared out of a mist next to my bedside like video projections shown into a mirror so that their image just hovered in space, in smoke, in my hospital room. Then a shadow of a head passing by a window; this is very fucking scary when there is no one else in the room. End of dream.
Dianne writes:
In my dream… I was at this really great bar- old fashioned and very comfy with high ceilings, dim light at about twilight and lots of glass behind the counter. I ordered a glass of white wine (which isn’t one of my regular drinks) and the bartender pours the wine into a big glass ashtray (like a cigar ashtray- thick glass and big). I was alarmed but the bartender said it was clean and they were out of glasses so ok. Then I started to pull out from my drink spools of iridescence purple and green thread, black bead necklaces and ice by the handfull- I think to myself that I will keep the thread b/c I can use it later. I go back where the tables are and I help Andre the Giant with his laptop and its really fun b/c we are laughing and joking and having a very fun time and I fix the computer problem for him.
Max writes:
I dream of dada 