I went to bed at 2:17 this morning and woke up at 10:39. In between, I marveled yet again at what goes on in my head during sleep. I have entire theme parks in there, Walt Disney World in a far different incarnation, rollercoasters, pinball machines, huge school campuses with ornate marble staircases, math classes that I prefer to skip, movie theaters to haunt, and, of course, women. Not often anymore, but when those dreams happen, I always lay in bed after I wake up, thinking, "How in the heck did THAT happen?"
The first dream involved a relationship-ending argument with Kirsten Dunst. I don't know why it was Kirsten Dunst, but I'm relieved it wasn't Drew Barrymore or Renee Zellweger. It was most apparent that I wasn't interested in saving the relationship, and perhaps I had lost interest a long time ago. In trying to argue my side, I mistakenly called her "Lisa" at one point, which I don't read anything into because I could never date anyone who reads books only for information. I told Kirsten that I had liked her since Bring It On, and had wanted her even then, so why would she think things had changed? Again, just arguing without feeling, without meaning, which isn't my style. Arguing isn't either, but when I'm passionate about something or someone, I show it.
The second dream took place at a variation of Walt Disney World, not the incarnation that I know so well, even though I live on the other side of the country. There was a holiday version of the Jungle Cruise being tested, and this one was indoors. A woman came up to me, asking if I'd like to take part in it, and she had a twinkle in her eyes when she asked me this, which made me play it low-key, since it was clear that she wanted to lead and impress herself upon me. I didn't mind at all. I went on the ride, but nothing else happened with the woman, because the dream ended while I was on the ride.
In the third dream, this particular woman appeared only in an e-mail. I had been to a restaurant months ago and had scribbled my name and e-mail address on a scrap of a postcard in order to be informed about some event that was happening at the restaurant. I received this e-mail and it was the woman who worked there to whom I had given that scrap of postcard for the future information, who just wanted to say hi, wondering why I hadn't been back lately, heavily hinting her interest.
Those latter two dreams were nice, but it doesn't make me move faster in pursuing a relationship. I've got a nonfiction book list that's growing longer by the day (Last night, I added to the list a late actor I've always admired, who I believe never got the biography he deserves), a future home city that I want to know intimately from one end to the other, a glittering city beyond that whose entire history I want to know, a small library branch inside a mall that I really want to see, the Pinball Hall of Fame that I would be happy spending a lot of time in (I think there was a Galaga arcade game there), and so much else to do and experience in my new home state, when that finally happens, as well as my desires to visit New Mexico and all the presidential libraries in the nation. My interests alone keep me pretty well occupied and very happy. Now if only Matchbox would sell its cars individually instead of just five-packs, I could get the tow truck I really want for my working vehicles collection.