I have been fantasizing all day about sweaters. Now, I am by no means a sweater type of girl -- my fashion preferences are generally Californian and I can't stand the feel of non-cashmere knits on my skin. But there is something in the air that has now possessed me with the need to own a thick, oversized cardigan with large buttons, preferably in a beige or off-white color. Maybe this is all from reading about New York fashion week and how the poncho is sadly passe.
Another item that has been curiously in my path all day is mozzarella cheese. I thought about it longingly while studying, though with no real plans to eat it. Then, on a trip to the market to pick up eggs, my eye inadvertently caught fresh mozzarella in more than a couple places. Then, my mother called me asking if ranchero cheese was the same as the fresh mozzarella we ate that one time. What gives?
As Mary very astutely pointed out once, there is something distinctly silly about telling someone else what you dreamt the night before. Realistically, it's one of the most useless things you can tell anybody. So that's what you dreamt last night -- what of it? It's neither true nor interesting, and serves no purpose. It may or may not tell something about that person's psyche, but that's circumstantial. Mary pointed out that when a story is prefaced with, "You know what I dreamt last night...?" we are predisposed to tuning out.
On that note, I still want to describe what went through my head in last night's slumber. You can stop reading here, because as discussed above, I understand that you don't care. But as I will inevitably look up this blog entry in a few months or years, I'd like to memorialize last night's dream(s) here just for shits and giggles.
On some crazy or desperate whim, I called up this guy that had asked me out some months ago. I never had any intention of going out with him and I don't even know why I gave him my number. (Though good at being rejected, very bad at rejecting.) I left him a misleading and unnecessarily flirtatious voice-mail about wanting to hang out sometime. Sometime within the dream, said guy got back to me with an enthusiastic response that we should hang out soon. When listening to his return voice-mail, I experienced a sinking feeling in my stomach, of the, "What have I gotten myself into?" variety.
Cut to part two of the dream. Tracy and I were either evicted or ousted from our current apartment. We were allowed to move into another unit down the hall, which was considerably smaller, and quaint like European apartments. Wood fixtures and recessed nooks. This portion of the dream concerned me fretting around the new apartment about how the hell I would fit my stuff, if I could saw my couch in half or something, and other sorts of details worthy of a show on HGTV. The new place had a very odd floorplan, where the living room was octagonal and the kitchen was much more like a large veranda.
I woke up relieved on two counts. First, that I hadn't actually made a boob of myself by calling the would-be suitor. Second, that we were able to retain our current, larger, infinitely more spacious residence. I conclude the following interpretations of last night's dreams:
1) that I must really crave positive attention from a male, any male, right now, so as to invite it from somebody I actually find icky;
2) and that a combination of reading too much real property law and wanting badly to play The Sims 2 led to the space-solving panic. Also, getting a disturbing flashback of those first months in the Third Street apartment in San Diego, torturously strategizing how to live in a sardine can. Space is such a luxury.
In other news, the bathroom at the Starbucks on Westwood and Olympic is one of the cleanest I have seen. Although, for a girl who spent five of her formative years in Taiwan, this is not saying much.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 4:48 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home