It's a freaking hot dog.

It's a freaking hot dog.

I actually made it through the Pink's line. The thing usually stretches down an entire city block. This is for hot dogs, by the way. Every once in a while, you can catch the line stretching for only half a block or--in this case--just along the front of building. On these rare occasions, one always has somewhere else one has to be. Not tonight, baby. I've lived in LA for nearly a year and a half, and this is the first time the stars have aligned so that I had nothing to do but hop in a short line.

The hot dog was pretty good.

Watching:

Chicago

Reading:

Doom Patrol: Down Paradise Way

Wholeness and the Implicate Order

D

"I don't mean to brag. I don't mean to boast, but I'm inta-continental when I eat French toast"

"I don't mean to brag. I don't mean to boast, but I'm inta-continental when I eat French toast"

I got my passport today. Look out, world, 'cause now I have to possibility to legally maybe travel to other parts of you someday (but I'll have to check my calendar first).

Watching:

Flash Gordon (1940 serials)

Alien Apocalypse (Yeah. You read that right.)

Office Space

Reading:

Doom Patrol: Down Paradise Way

Wholeness and the Implicate Order

D

Scandal, sex and a puzzling apocalypse...all on the next Drew's Dreams

Scandal, sex and a puzzling apocalypse...all on the next Drew's Dreams


So I'm back from Florida, safe and relatively sound. My last night at the time share, I had a crazy-ass dream. Odd of structure and all-encompassing of content, it was one of the more bizarre dream-within-dream/movie-within-dream/movie-within-a-dream-within-a-dream/embarrassing blackout dreams I've ever had.

Here's what I remember: it all started with a dream in a dream...

I was watching a cartoon motion picture. It had dogs that spoke. The two main characters were a female dog. Her voice was high-pitched, and her head was empty. (She was like the Lina Lamont character from Singin' in the Rain.) Oh, and she was pink mutt. Her male companion was a Dean Martin-esque dog who only smiled, grunted and listened to the Lina Lamont dog blabber away. He smoked cigarettes and was voiced by Robert Goulet ("Goulet!"). All of that bit that I remember took place in a convenience store.

I stopped watching the dog movie and started looking for a pair of cats. They were under my bed. To specify: they were under my old bed at my parents' house in Illinois. I pulled one out from beneath the bed, and it turned into a young woman. A scantily clad young woman who was revealing things... She complained that I never paid her any attention anymore. Then I woke up, of course, into...

...The Main Dream...

I wake up in my room--the old room at the parents' place--and the room is in disarray. I naturally assume that my neighbors--the twin gentlemen from up the street--left the mess after I passed out. I walk down to their place to question them about the mess. Even though it's morning, the house itself is empty and dark. I hear some movement on the outside, so I go to investigate. The backyard is darker than the inside of the house, and I end up getting clipped in the shoulder by a guy who's running in the opposite direction. He yells, "Sorry, Drew!" and runs off. I have no idea who this person is or how he knows my name.

I make it around the front and see that all of my LLP co-workers hanging out in the street. It's clear that this is the aftermath of a movie wrap party (even though it becomes clear that we're still shooting the film). It also becomes clear that everyone knows my name--including the random friends and friends of friends that showed up to the party--due to my drunken shenanigans the previous night.

Apparently it involved someone in my lap and me evading an amorous gay fan. Anyone who knows my past history knows that having a gay fan at a party is much more likely than anyone being in my lap. Nevertheless...

We end up watching the rough cut of the movie we've been filming...

The movie is one about an upcoming apocalypse in the style of 1970's paranoia films (a la the 1978 Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Cronenberg's Rabid). This time it's not caused by flood and earthquake. No. This one is caused by the Incredible Exploding Stacy Keach. Here's the plot:

Keach is a man who can make himself explode and then reconstitute himself to explode again. His plot is to dismantle the world one explosion at a time. Basically, a killing spree with a twist.

The good guys are some kind of supernatural FBI unit who never interacts with Keach. To clarify: we watch a scene of the FBI agents driving in a car, talking about the case; we cut to Keach walking up the street, diving into a doorway and exploding. We cut back the FBI agents huddled around a table in a diner, talking about the case. Then we're back to Keach walking up some stairs to an El train platform...and exploding... Aaaaand you get the idea. The end of the world arrives due to incompetant intelligence agents and explosion by Stacy Keach explosion.

...back to the main attraction...
Actually, it was right after watching the rough cut that I woke up for real, and I wondered why I kept dreaming about work. Yep. I initially thought the dream was bizarre because I had work people in it.

To be fair, my next thought was What was that? And there's yet another snapshot of my inner workings. I'm considered well-adjusted, by the way.

[UPDATE! Check the November 6 entry for the Fox 11 newscast. Yeah. That's a ten minute feature on Robosaurus, the "car-eating mechanical monster". Have I mentioned that I hate LA news? Not that they didn't cover it, but wasn't there a fatal tornado in the American Midwest? Or an on-going eleven day riot in France? Just another example of that hard-hitting LA media.]

D