I don't usually have straight-up nightmares anymore, but, dear Lord, last night I had this dream about Christmas and my mom deciding not to do a turkey dinner that morphed into us discovering that this guy in our presence, who looked a lot like James Franco, was a lunatic serial killer. First, a Latino friend of ours tried to take him out and was immediately stabbed (I'm so glad my nightmares follow the movie who dies rule). Then we ran to the lake in front of the house and discovered about 20 or so bodies in the lake (that's where he was keeping them), and rather than fight, this older man, who may have been my father, decided to stay in the center of the lake, which was volcanic or something, and die. He was holding an African-American child he had adopted. Finally, I was the only one left and JF was chasing me through the trees, and I could apparently climb trees like a koala and hop from trunk to trunk. Just as I thought he was gonna catch me, a helicopter with a searchlight appeared overhead and scared him off.
Then I hid briefly in a movie theater where I watched a trailer for a movie where Nia Vardalos and her friend had been dorks in school and then became fashion gurus. Or something.
Then I knew I had to go back to my car and that he'd probably be waiting inside. When I saw that my car had been vandalized, I was sure, and then I found him hiding underneath the middle seat. I pulled him out and brought him to the police at the garage and handed him over. The bureaucracy that followed was kind of annoying.
Anyhow, now I'm scared of James Franco.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
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In summing up, I wish I had some kind of affirmative message to leave you with. I don't. Would you take two negative messages?
-- Woody Allen
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