pantryslut

I had a dream last night that I had left my jacket and bag on a BART train, and I was having the hardest time finding their number so I could call and alert them.

Interestingly, I had no fear that they'd be stolen.

P.S. mass transit stations often figure in my dream landscape.

I dreamed last night that my family was moving to Berkeley. My mother had taken a job at the university. I asked her if she'd quit her old job. "Yes," she said, "I told them I was taking a sabbatical." That's not the same thing, I said. "I've never quit a job before," she said.

Last night, I dreamed that I used to write five articles daily at a thousand words each for a former job, so writing five thousand words a day wasn't going to be a problem for me now. (Not that anyone's asking me for that sort of output, dreamwise or otherwise.)

I used to write *one* article a day at a thousand words (at most) for that former job. But it's nice to know that my own subconscious is cheerleading for me.

My dream last night was ridiculous in its blatant wish-fulfillment -- I dreamed we put down a deposit on a three bedroom apartment, with a garden to the side, and a washer and a dryer and a dishwasher too.

The odd things were the details. First of all, my imagination is very good at spatial planning. Second of all, what were those green, mist-shrouded mountains off to the west? Third of all, why were we subletting from a happy couple with kid -- and their roommate? Why did I think "this is just like our current place except better," when it isn't like our current place at all? What was that deal with the condominiums next door, again?

Also, if I'm going to indulge in this particular kind of wish fulfillment, could I have a spare room with an office, too?

I left the parking for other dreamers to worry about.

*

I don't know if my dwelling dreams have anything to do with the fact that we celebrated Escape From the House Day yesterday for the third year in a row in our usual manner -- a fancy dinner at Zuni.

This is Rob Breszny's horoscope for me yesterday:

"Donald Hall wrote a poem in which two men are talking. One says, "I was a fool three years ago." The other replies, "One is always a fool three years ago." I bring this to your attention, Leo, because it's a perfect moment to take a good long look at the ignorance and naiveté that clung to you in the latter half of 2002. The time is also ripe to make sure that you have corrected your erroneous ideas and cleaned up the karma that resulted from them. To do so will bring you uncanny satisfaction."

*

My pants are a total loss.