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dream on, dream away

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dream on, dream away

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I had a dream this morning that I went to visit Meryl Streep at her house. It was set up as some kind of weird showroom for bathrooms - there were four of them in a row, set up in all different configurations.

During a big group meal, I sat across the table from someone, a chubby guy with curly red hair, who was clearly an old friend from childhood. I couldn't remember him at all. His sister came and joined us and I couldn't remember her either. They knew enough about me and were familiar enough with me that it was obvious they were telling the truth, but I could not place either of them.

I felt bad about failing to recognize them, but I couldn't spend too much time thinking about it, because I had massively overpacked and my things had gotten strewn all over the place, so I had to find all my possessions. I was really frustrated, as I was already supposed to be gone - Meryl had given me a parting gift of some perfume called Thread that I couldn't smell just from the vial and I was afraid I would have to spray it on to test whether I could tolerate it. My bag count grew from 2 to 5, and and I was still trying to find my underwear (which had gotten mixed in with someone else's and I was having trouble identifying mine) and beaded bracelets and a raft of other things.

There was something about a swimming pool, and then Nona pulled me too far from unconsciousness to keep dreaming when she started trying to wake me up.

I hadn't thought of Meryl Streep in a while, but I have seen stuff about that movie where she plays a nun. I figure the rest is obviously influenced by moving.
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